Daniel Greene
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First Chapter Goblin Detective - Second Draft Update
🕑 Added 2023-10-29 20:48:35 +0000 UTCHey everyone!
I thought it might be fun for you to see how Chapter 1 has evolved from my initial first draft to the first rewrite I've done of it. I figured out there was going to be a huge change to the overall story so I had to go back and edit it anyway to set up the second chapter, but please know there will be MANY drafts coming after this. This is basically First Draft 1.2. Hope you enjoy following me on this journey, and let me know your thoughts.
-Daniel
Chapter 1
Fifty years I’ve been coming to this bar. Five decades of watching associates rise among their peers, stepping in to their full potential as clients in desperate need of representation waited in the wings. If my career as a defense attorney had any source of consistency, a place of comfort regardless of status or clients, it wouldn’t be in the office or courtroom - it would be sitting in this corner booth watching an ever-evolving team of talented legal minds find any excuse to celebrate. I was the most senior lawyer, and person, in the room by a wide margin. Most other partners bowed out earlier during celebrations like these or passed on them entirely, but not me. There was something in the air down here - youthful and intoxicating. Plus, many of the younger associates got a kick out of buying me a drink. Why was a goblin to protest?
“It’s just not the most professional look, Will.” Luna, a paralegal who worked at our firm, rested her head on the corner table next to a half-empty flagon of beer. Her face was flush, as was the case for most elves - and even half-elves - when they drank. They’d been out celebrating for over four hours now, and Luna looked on the verge of needing a cab. “We have an image to maintain, ya know?”
I licked foam from my lips, enjoying the hint of citrus infused in the ale, and hoped that the paralegal sitting next to me hadn’t already crossed the point of no return. I’d seen the contents of Luna Sander’s stomach on more than one occasion. “You’re worried about the press?”
"No-well, maybe. you’ve been landing a lot of high profile cases lately, and, I mean let’s face it, you’re the Goblin that just got Mae, Queen of the Fae, off with just probation for ripping off millionaires." She paused, squinting at something over my shoulder. "Who gets away with screwing the rich? Oh, damn, Will, is Jona’s glass still empty?"
Luna, despite our large age difference, was my best friend at this point in my life, aside from my wife. She was also a wonderful combination of brilliant and joyously stupid. A prime example of these tremendous qualities was her sitting with me nearly the entire night despite how many of her younger friends were here now. Luna knew how rough a time I’d been having these last few days, and insisted on keeping me company. A company that actually did help, despite her insistence, or, rather, the inevitability of her getting piss drunk.
So now I sat, far less sad, but also far more preoccupied with getting Luna to drink as much water as possible.
“No one wants to lock up a tiny floating woman.” I glanced across the room at Jona, our newest hire, currently surrounded by a circle of our friends and colleagues. The entire firm had gathered here to celebrate Jona passing the bar and officially joining the team. Judging by the look of things, it was clear she would be well-received.
Each of us, from the well-established attorneys down to the fresh-faced interns and recent grads, worked ourselves to the bone for our clients, most of whom were not always entirely grateful. It fostered a shared sense of mutual respect and understanding, allowing us to laugh about the everyday grievances with one another, and - on special occasions like tonight - celebrate our successes until we were well and fully drunk.
I clucked my tongue at the sight of Jona’s empty mug. “Can you believe it?”
“Disgraceful.” Luna affirmed, then lifted her head to check her watch. “They have twenty-six seconds until they hit the fifteen minute mark.”
I scratched at one of my ears, folding back the pointed tip to get a better angle. My nails needed trimming again, but I had to admit, they certainly had their advantages. “A judge could walk in here tonight and all he’d see are a few faces he recognizes having a good night out. We’ll make sure everyone gets home safe. Plus, the press is still all over the mayor’s condition. You could shoot me and it wouldn’t make page five.”
“I can see the front-page headline now.” Luna turned her head to the side, meeting my eyes. “‘Super-Attorney Will Goodhart shot by Half Elf Paralegal In Dive Bar”
“Dive? The Broken Shield?”
“Yeah.” Luna peeled her hand away from the table, a distinctly wet and sticky sound of skin peeling from wood only further emphasizing her point. “Dive.”
My response was automatic. “I’ll have you know–”
“That the firm’s founding partners drank here, it’s the only place in the whole city that serves traditional halfling brew, blah blah blah...” Luna breathed deep again. “Amazing, I know. But, did you know there’s a place across the street that serves drinks and sushi?”
“Lords,” I cursed, “you’re the only person I’ve ever met who eats when they’re nauseous.”
“I believe in smothering fires.”
A server passed by and I snatched a glass of water from their tray, placing it beside Luna’s head. “Finish that and I’ll go get you some sushi.”
“Deal,” Luna said. “Check the time.”
Fifteen minutes on the dot.
“Objection!” I called out, raising my voice along with my pint to draw the attention of my peers. The room went silent, with only the sound of the Cranberries’ ‘Zombie’ spitting out a fuzzy broadcast from the radio behind the bar. With a grin, I slowly lowered my glass and pointed a red finger directly at our newest hire. The woman in question blinked back blearily through bloodshot eyes, genuine worry battling for sobriety against the booze. “Jona Kalish, you passed the bar a mere six hours ago… and you stand before us, on the brink of becoming, well, dare I say, legally drunk.”Jona’s expression shifted to a rueful grin, fully aware of where I was going with this. “Yet, not one of your fellow attorney scum has bothered to put a drink in your hand for the last fifteen minutes! Luna, when did Jona get that, now empty, stein?”
Luna picked her head up from the table, belting out, “Fifteen minutes and nineteen seconds, sir!”
“Where is our sense of tradition?” I barked. “Khalil!”
The firm’s newest secretary, Khalil - a six-foot tall tank of human muscle - stood up from his stool; his hulking form loomed over Will even from across the bar, and he brought a hand up in salute. “Yes, sir?”
“You might be an attorney by day, damnit, but tonight, your only duty is to get Jona good and drunk! Order her whatever her heart desires, immediately!”
“It would be my honor!” Khalil called back.
“To Goodhart!” Jona called, raising her empty stein.
A rousing chorus of ‘hear, hear!’ echoed around the bar in agreement, and I turned my attention back to Luna, keeping an eye out for any signs of a potential upchuck. She took a tentative sip at her water before burying her head between her arms at the table once more. Over the top of her shoulders, another figure began to approach.
“Tom is coming over.”
“Close enough to hear?” Luna asked.
“Not yet.”
“Oh, joy.”
I tried, and failed, to hold back a smirk. Tom used to grab as many headlines as myself. Used to. In recent years, however, he and a few other members of the firm seemed to have changed allegiances. Tom and his ilk often referred to clients as ‘scum’ or a dozen other insults that would have normally been cause for dismissal for anyone less attached to the firm's reputation. While I didn’t like the man, I had to admit he was a hound in court, always doggidly working to throw off the opposition's tempo. Legal battles were more about building arguments through momentum than people realized. Tom would do just about anything short of burning the courthouse down to throw the other side off their game.
I tossed back my head and sucked down one last swig of beer before Tom arrived, knowing full-well I’d need it, before lowering the mug slowly with a friendly-enough, “Evening, Tom.”
“Morning’s more accurate,” Tom slurred, stroking his thick white mustache before gesturing over his shoulder in the direction of Jona. “How long do you think she’ll last?”
“Jona’s going to be a great lawyer.”
“Ha, yeah. Wonder where. Elves never want to spend too long defending criminals, do they? Just long enough to look good on a resumé. All about appearances with–”
“Hi Tom,” Luna said, twisting to look up at him from her slumped position. “How's aging going?”
“Keeps me motivated,” Tom shot back without bothering to look at the paralegal. Instead his eyes slowly slid to me. The height difference forced him to look down further than he was used to, and I could see Luna wrestling with herself not to grin at the sight of his multiple chins wobbling beneath his mustache. “Are you staying much longer?”
“Unlikely,” I said, sending Luna a pointed kick beneath the table. “I lost my desire to watch the sun rise from anywhere but in bed by my wife decades ago.”
Tom nodded. “How about this, I’ll close both our tabs tonight and, in exchange, you let me walk you home. I want to crack open that bright, red head of yours for all the juicy details.”
“The firm is getting the tab tonight,” I said; smile strained, voice tight.
“Perfect.” Tom replied with the same false enthusiasm. “I want to hear more about the Myrdik case. That is, if you’re not tired of talking about it yet. Oh, who am I kidding? Of course you’re not. The news cycle certainly isn’t. Here, let me grab your coat.”
My smile slipped into a scowl the moment his back was turned. “The man takes a drink, now the drink takes the man. He used to have so much potential.”
“Hard to believe.” Luna’s expression mirrored my own, and she shook her head as if to say ‘what can you do?’. “Sure, he’s whatever in court, but, gods, Tom is shitstained cancer for morale around here. Just promise me you won’t retire before him. I dunno if anyone here would be able to forgive you if you left us with him.”
“You can’t keep giving him lip, Luna. You have incredible potential.” I rubbed my temple with one hand, wishing - at least, in this moment - I had retired years ago. This wasn’t the first time the thought had crossed my mind, but I knew that, in the morning, I’d feel different. I always did. “Don’t make it worth Tom’s time to get in the way. He’s petty enough to do it. Anyway, he just wants to pilfer what he can from my case.”
“Why?”
“We’re a competitive lot, lawyers and–”
“Hey!” Jona called out, loud enough to make half the bar start. “Turn that up!”
The barkeep, a tall pretty elf, followed Jonas gaze to the TV and blinked up in amazement. Quickly, she snatched the remote from behind the counter and cranked the volume. A newsline scrolled across the screen in bold print - [RAID ON LURZIL ESTATE] - over footage taken from a helicopter. What looked to be a dozen paladins in white tactical gear maintained a perimeter in front of the gate of the main Lurzil Palace, located just south east of the city, each wielding a massive white warhammer. Already, three men lay on the black pavement blending in with their dark attire. Undercover vehicles flashed their white and gold lights, encircling the action and creating a parameter outside the estates' spear-tipped fence.
The news anchor's voice reverberated throughout the silent bar. “–now learning the arrest may be in connection to the deteriorating health of mayor Randall Winston.”
“No fucking way,” Luna exclaimed, bolting upright at the sight. Five figures descended from the palace, three of which were carrying a shirtless man between them while the fifth brought up the rear, keeping a large rifle trained at the base of the carried man’s skull. I sat in stunned silence. We were all frozen, unsure what to do. I had never seen a mortal hand laid on a member of the Old Families. None alive, with the exception of the elves, had witnessed direct conflict between any government and the Families–not since the signing of the non-aggression pact.
Chains bound the prisoner’s wrists and ankles, but it was the artifact that drove home exactly what was happening here. A heavy ancient looking collar adorned the Dark Lord’s neck, glowing a vicious pulsating red. It was a tell-tale sign of a magic war happening within the man, as he struggled to break the involuntary magic shield.
The amulet flashed as the paladins threw their captive to the pavement, two of them moving to pin the man to the street alongside the others arrested. A heavily armored vehicle was being backed into place, readying for the prisoners to be loaded for transport.
“It has just been confirmed that a spell and two shots were reported at the beginning of the raid, however, there has been no sign of casualties.” The camera cut back to a halfling in a business-casual suit, the chopper footage continuing to play over her shoulder. A beat passed, then she continued. “This marks the first time in over a century the United States government has exerted its authority over a member of the Original Families.”
“Two centuries.” I corrected, jaw nearly unhinged.
“What?” Luna asked, gaze landing on me from out the corner of her eye.
Before I could reply, a wail of relief echoed up from the center of the room. Jona stood stock-still, covering her mouth; shoulders hunched, legs bowed. Everyone in attendance understood, many bowing their heads or averting eyes.
Jona’s family had been taken from her as a direct result of this Family’s business. They had run a quaint hardware store directly next to a flower shop used by a Druid gang as a front for money laundering. Allegedly, the Lurzil family had conducted an extermination campaign to secure what they had considered their territory. Jona's family, along with many others, had been completely obliterated in the crossfire; collateral damage during the massacre. She’d told me the story not long after we hired her. Originally, this had sent her down the path of wanting to become a prosecutor, but after years of study she had switched trajectories, coming to work for Altman and Nash just before taking the bar.
Tears slipped down the young woman’s face and she wept openly, a form of closure weighed down by sorrow and grief. A nearby friend clutched her tightly in a hug. The silence in the bar thickened; so much so, the vibration of my phone in my pocket caused me to start in surprise.
“It has been over two centuries.” I repeated, holding up a finger as I dug through my pocket. “Over two centuries since anyone dared to make a move on any of the families. Not since the retaliation in D.C. and the signing of the pact.”
A coalition of the most powerful figures of their time - goblins, orc, men, and elves - had come together to fight against the Original Families. Several Elders from the Families had fallen to weapons blessed by the few remaining gods of the time during the conflict. It escalated to the military raiding several compounds owned by the families before they could be hidden away in some pocket dimension. Celebrations across the nation had begun to inspire similar movements around the world, until all bore witness to the retaliation brought onto the United States. A younger generation of Dark Lords had managed to forge an alliance of their own and simply destroyed the nation's capital. Not just the city itself, but the surrounding counties. Half of Fairfax had been lost to the curse. It was why New York was now the country's capital. All that remained of the lost city now was swarms of ferrell dead held in stasis by the Lords. A constant reminder of the price to pay when moving against them.
Luna’s eyes sobered at the reminder.
I flipped open my phone, squinting at the name of the incoming caller. Without glasses, my eyes struggled with these damned contraptions. Finally, I managed to focus them enough. It was a call from the senior partner of the firm, Jake Lorimonto.
Pressing the accept button, I brought the phone to my ear. Jake’s voice came over the line - firm, yet heavy with age.
“I hope you weren’t asleep.”
“Still out with the team,” I answered. “We just turned on the news.”
“I’ve been watching.” There was a long pause before Jake continued. Long enough for knots to begin twisting my stomach. Something was off. “Will, there's something I've got to tell you. Of the thousands of clients we’ve had over the years, a few have preferred to remain anonymous. Even within the firm. The senior partners decided to permit it due to special circumstances.”
I remained silent. Somewhere deep - deep - inside of me, some part of me had begun to make the miserable connection. “Black book clients are not unheard of Jake, but Jake. Jake.” I gestured blindly toward the broadcast, knowing full-well he couldn’t see. “Please tell me we don't have anything to do with… this!”
“You’ll be briefed tomorrow on your new client, if you choose to defend him. I won’t make you.” He seemed resigned to the inevitable confrontation about to come between us. We’ve had countless professional disagreements over the years, but nothing like this. “Or - rather - today, I should say. As soon as you’re able to come into the office. Let’s do six thirty, okay?”
“It’s Saturday,” I said weakly.
Picking up on the tension stringing my voice, Luna’s attention shifted from the TV to myself, golden eyes narrowing. “What’s going on?” She mouthed.
“Watch closely, Will.” Jake sounded defeated somehow. “This will be your legacy case-No, don’t try and recommend someone else. With all the good press recently, you’re guaranteed an angle the prosecution can’t expect. We’re going to need someone who can look a jury in the eye.”
It was an expression Jake and I had used since our grad school days, closer to century ago than not. He always meant it as a compliment, but, over the years, it had started to sour my tongue whenever I heard it.
“I need you to say it flat out, Jake.” I closed my eyes. “Who are you asking me to represent?”
A few other curious eyes in the silent bar began to note my conversation as well.
“I’ll see you in the morning” was all I got before the line went dead.
Slowly, I lowered the phone from my ear. Luna jumped as it snapped shut. “What was that about?” She asked. “Will, hey! What’s up? You okay? I didn’t think goblins could get pale.”
I sucked in a breath, holding it for - one, two, three - seconds before opening them to meet her gaze. “Jake.”
“What did he want? Is he okay?”
I blinked - one, two- before looking back to the broadcast, now showing the trucks pulling away from the estate. “He wants me to represent Zyron Lurzil.”
Two more heartbeats passed - one, two - before Luna twisted violently to the side, noisily spilling the contents of her gut onto the floor.
Everything was a blur. Leaving the broken shield. Double-checking Luna was taken care of. The faces of my colleagues, suddenly too close. Tom charged forward, my coat in his hand. I recalled ducking beneath his open arm and rushing out the front door, shouting "tomorrow" over my shoulder. The only solid memory I had was the weight of the door as I shoved it open and my shoes hitting the pavement.
I paused for a moment to take a breath, only one thought on my mind. Jake doesn’t really expect me to defend a Lurzil, does he?My boots hit the pavement as I took off once more, my footfalls serving as answer enough.
The lights of the city reflected back up at me as I splashed through a puddle, desperate to cross at least one street before the blinking hand became solid. I wasn’t one for violating pedestrian laws, but I couldn't stomach the idea of letting anyone from that bar catch up to me. What would I say? Was I really even going to do this?
If Jake had been the type to play even one prank in his life… but he wasn’t, and this was truly the hand I’d been dealt.
My entire career and reputation had been built on the belief that, guilty or not, every person deserves proper legal representation in court. Every person. But… Zyron was a bloodline Dark Lord, a direct descendant from a Family dating back to before the murder of God. Not one of the minor creators or mantle assumers - an original G.O.D., God! If memory served me correctly, which it usually did, the Lurzil family had - allegedly - played a role in the assassination.
My chest grew tighter as I stepped from the sidewalk to pavement once again. A car blared its horn, causing me to stumble and swear. A rather crude sounding city elf leaned from a drivers side window throwing a few slurs for goblins my way. I ignored the comments about my stub nose and long ears before flailing my way onto the sidewalk across the intersection.
Once I had put a couple blocks between myself and the Broken Shield, I slowed to a halt, bending at the waist as I sucked in deep breaths, hands gripping my knees. A paladin siren sounded somewhere in the distance, stirring a nearby hound into a barking fit. Stepping deeper into the shadows of the alley, I moved behind a dumpster and sank into a squat, placing my head in both my hands.
Breathe. Breathe… Breathe. Now, think.
Yes, Zyron Lurzil was a Lord of Darkness. He and his kind wielded enough power to cripple nations - well, at least, historically. Recently the remaining powers of the Families has begun to come into question. Many magics were weakening for reasons no one truly understood, and society at large was turning its collective head toward technology over the ways of the past. Was that why Zyron had been arrested? Had this theory finally been confirmed? Seeing paladin’s carry out an arrest of someone thought to be capable of tearing down a skyscraper seemed evidence enough.
Gods, that broadcast was the most important of my lifetime and I just ran away.
A painful, annoying, nagging thought slipped into my mind. One that had consistently sat with me my entire career whenever I had struggled with a client.
He was still technically a citizen and therefore had a right to proper representation in a court of law. No matter the bitter repulsion that crawled in my skin at the mention of the Lurzil family, no matter the depth of my sympathies for Jona and the countless like her, I believed that. A hundred times over–no, a thousand, I had preached that truth to my colleagues; that one irrevocable truth. But I also knew that, if I walked away - refused this case - no one would blame me. Not a single lawyer in the city would call me out for not practicing what I preach. Not this time.
But I will.
Standing, I leaned against the old bricks of the building wall behind me. Dust and grime stained the crisp linen of my dress shirt, but I couldn’t find it in me to care. Before I could even attempt relaxing, anxiety pushed me from the wall. Hands running over my ears, Jake’s words forced themselves from between my teeth as they echoed in my mind.
“This will be my legacy.”
A lifetime of cases written about in textbooks would be dwarfed by representing a Dark Lord. My name would be forever linked with defending - what many considered to be - evil incarnate before a judge and jury. Zyron would be headed to trial without a single person in the nation able to sit on a jury without knowing who and what he was.
What had the broadcast said? My client was accused of being linked to the mayor's recent health troubles?
There. I caught it. ‘My client.’.
I thumped a tired fist against the brick, bowing my head.
Illya is going to kill me.
Steps at the end of the alley gave me pause. I stood on the tips of my toes, stretching the beholder leather of my shoes. Tom was looking around with a frustrated grimace on his face still clutching my coat. Tom had followed me it seemed and was looking to pick up my trail.
“Damned stubborn ass,” he swore, kicking out at the pavement in frustration. “This has to be a joke.”
A rueful grin tugged at my cheeks, and my teeth bared. “Unfortunately, it’s no joke, Tom.”
“Gods!” Tom started, clutching at his chest. He spun around in place eyes widening as he watched me emerge from behind the dumpster.
“Looks like you’ll be seeing my name in the news for a bit longer. Case of the century and all.” I shrugged, doing my best to conceal the anxiety pulsing in my throat.
Tom rolled his eyes and extended my coat, “You’ll be needing help on this one, Will. The best available.”
“That’s for certain.” I nodded in agreement. “Fortunately, I have a phenomenal paralegal.”
“More than that girl.” Tom insisted.
Girl?
Dawning my coat, I gave him a firm glare. “I might. For now, I’m going to go get whatever sleep I can.”
“Let me–”
“No.”
In the midst of all the turmoil swirling in my gut, a silver lining of relief slipped through. There was no question in my mind this would be my last case. I had been looking to go out on a high, well, this was it. Win or lose, the trial of the century would be a good stopping point. A good place for an end. A beginning as well. The start of a well earned retirement with Illya. I just had to push through one last time. One last time where I didn’t have to worry as much about playing politics with the likes of this man.
“Not you, Tom.” I turned from him, getting a bit inspired by Luna. “I definitely won’t be needing help from you.”
Comments
Bill C
Thanks for sharing the new draft! One editor's note/question - originally, nauseous meant “causing nausea” while nauseated meant “feeling sick" - a distinction that has faded in everyday speech in the States, but is still kept in the UK -- how British or American are your Fae Folk?
