Blackleaf

By Joseph White

Erick Boler, a down-on-his-luck detective in the corrupt city of Blackleaf, is approached by a young elf named Wyllion Balethorn, the son of a powerful councilman. As he investigates the elf's case, he uncovers a web of secrets and conspiracies involving Wyllion's wealthy family, the enigmatic Dead Flowers assassins, and an ancient evil lurking beneath the city. Soon he uncovers the sinister truth behind Wyllion's predicament and has to face a moral dilemma as he realizes the truth.

 

~9,000 words

• Language: English
• Publisher: Joseph White
• Release date: Mar 27, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224535781

Book preview

I

Erick Boler sat with his feet propped up on his cluttered desk as dreams of fancy and fame danced through his head. He hadn’t been getting much sleep lately and the morning light threatened his nap as it crept through his drawn blinds. Unkempt and unruly dwarven city workers had been jackhammering outside his apartment from dawn to dusk, cutting his sleep short. Why, you might ask? Filling potholes and fixing roads as part of an urban renewal project dreamed up by some bureaucratic gnome in a fancy suit and a cheap tie. Gentrification for the lobbyists lining the higher-ups’ pockets with gold. A brave new tomorrow where everything looks the same. A future unwanted by the sleepy detective.

As he tried to sleep his thoughts drifted in the cool blue mists and deep crimson pools of reminiscence. Erick’s office walls were lined with memorabilia from days long past. Back when he was a legend in the streets of Blackleaf. Back when his name meant something. The shelves bore testament to a storied past of great victories and devastating blows. But in his line of work, it was less about how many times you get it right, and more about how many times you can get hit and keep going. He’d been a detective in Blackleaf for a very long time and many would say that he’s taken his last lick. A beaten dog with no more bite.

Sure he’d seen his fair share of the incredible, sometimes even the impossible. Sure, the years he counts until his untimely demise were fairly short compared to the elves, gnomes, and dwarves that made up the majority of the population of Blackleaf. Eventually, it all becomes commonplace. The awesome becomes droll and the spectacular becomes a shade greyer each year.

Just as Boler finally started to feel the sweet warmth of oblivion dulling his senses a sudden knock at the door shocked him back into his cramped and dusty reality of broken dreams and knick-knacks. He popped open a filmy and bloodshot eye, unsure if the sound was real or just the fragment of a dream left floating on the breeze. It had been a long time since anyone came knocking at his door, but the knocking continued despite his misgivings.

Hmm. He groaned as he slowly rose from the comfort of his creaky office chair. His aging knees cracked and an all too familiar pain shot down the back of his thigh. The knocking continued faster and louder. Hold on! I'm coming. He barked.

As the door opened he found a bronzed and ravishing female staring back at him. Her features,