There weren’t always dragons in the valley.  Usually they stayed on the upper east side of New Camelot.  Something about all the natural stone and marble drew them in.  I always thought that they just didn’t like concrete.  Maybe dragons were allergic to it?  That would be a great headline.  SNOOTY OR SNEEZY? Are our scaled friends high class or do they have street dust sickness?

“You’re doing the headline chuckle again Gob.  Cork Borkley really will fire us this time.  He was pissed after the ‘Vampire Blood Shortage’ incident.”

My partner Vrir Vrar, my confidant and voice of reason wrapped up in a kobold casing.  She was a great editor but had no sense for a story.  Vrir, or Vivi as most people called her, had blue scales, glasses, and one of those over shirts with the professor pads on the elbows.  However, she was satisfied with our position as criers for the Minions Opinion and that wouldn’t do.  I leapt from my chair onto our shared “desk”.  The plywood creaked under even just my weight, but I needed the extra impact to get her on board.  Enlisting her help was a lot like fishing for mermaids.  I needed to keep the bait exciting without convincing her it’s a better choice to drown me.

“Cmon Vivi, one of these days we can show them something that they can’t ignore.  Even bossman Cork the Orc has to have sometaste.  Think about it, front page story of every other paper in town.  NEW CAMELOT’S FIRST GOBLIN REPORTER AND KOBOLD EDITOR.  Gob Scugly would be on everyone’s tongues and your writing would be the only thing anyone would think about!”

Steam puffed out from her nostrils as it always does when she gets excited.  Glasses fogging, she shook her head slowly.  Hook… but I haven’t sold it yet.  Everyone has a weak point though, and I knew how to get her to help.

“Gob get down you’re going to break the plywood.”

I crossed my arms and pushed out my chest as much as I could while keeping eye contact, “I’ll get down… if you help me look into the dragons migrating to the valley.”

A jet of flame shot from Vivi’s nose setting the desk on fire …Line…  I stepped down and grabbed one of the fire extinguishers from the pile, putting out the fire which left a fist sized burn mark behind.  I whistled a few notes before offhandedly going for the kill.

“I heard Vuma went there.”

She shot up from her seat and fixed me with an intense glare, “THE sapphire dragon?!  The frozen tyrant of the second age?  WHERE I GREW UP!?”

…Sinker.

“I’ll get my recorder you grab the camera.  I’ve got a contact lined up with a dubious tip set to meet us in fifteen at the Sleepy Mimic.”

Vivi waddled off to grab her gear while I made sure my recorder wasn’t visible in the mirror.  When you’re three feet tall people don’t have much to look at so you need to ensure all the things you hide are really hidden.  My large ears gave me an extra six inches of height but they aren’t enough of a distraction in the city to help.  That’s where my custom outfit came in.  I wore a brown leather jacket that had several pockets sewn into either side with another on the inside of each sleeve.  Currently my recorder was set up at chest height.  When goblins are around, people usually watch our hands for funny business.  Rude, but predictable.  I grabbed the pack with my informants pay and finished my self examination.  Vivi finished preparing shortly after and we left for the meet up.

————————————————————

The valley has been widely considered a slum and the view we got did nothing to disprove the stigma.  Several skeletons wearing excessively baggy clothes squatted around a salamander fight.  Cheering, rattling, and quick fire betting was easy enough to hear as we scurried past.  We were in Undead Army territory and it was always best to be caught going than staring.  Gang activity wasn’t exactly commonplace however.  Once the other major groups, the Green Coats and Horned Hoodlums, realized that Mordred’s curse kept the undead from staying down they mostly gave up and left to squabble in the main city.

“What’s the tip? For that matter, who’s the contact?” Vivi was used to the atmosphere here.  Looking unimpressed and calm was her idea, as a local, of a great defense.  Lucky for me I’m very impressionable.  I believed we were safe and that helped my nerves a little.

“The seller says they know why the dragons are coming down from Roost.  As for who… like I said, a dubious contact.”

“Don’t skirt the question, and why are you flaunting ‘dubious’ like it’s a positive?”

“High risk, high reward. if we’re the only people to believe him then we’re the only people with the info.  Look we’re here.”

Realization dawned on her face as I pushed open the lower half of the minor race accessible door.  The stink reminded me of home.  The acrid scent of booze both spilled and spit up.  The metallic sting of blood drying from the last brawl tickled my nose and brought a tear to my eye.  I should visit the dump sometime soon.  Heavy smoke was the only different smell, but that came with the clientele.  Wooden chairs with equal parts varnish and beer coating surrounded cheap tables.  The Sleepy Mimic wasn’t a high class place with a pool table or clean water, but it was cheap.  The bar was split unofficially into three sections.  Smalls on the left, talls on the right, mixed seating in the middle.  Gazing down the center aisle I saw who I was expecting staring back with an exaggerated wave.

“Why did you call Gnaw.” Vivi half snarled half sighed.

I winked at her and started walking to the eye height table.  Gnaw hurriedly wiped his hands off on his leg fur before thrusting out a ‘slightly’ greasy hand to shake.  Gnaw was a gnoll, half dog half human.  Normally a proud species that often joined NCPD or the army, Gnaw was a bit different.  He was a runt, instead of seven feet tall he was just under six.  Two lazy eyes paired with an oddly yellow and black patchy coat made him easily recognizable.  I hopped on the stool and leaned into the table pushing the button to record at the same time.

“I don’t shake until there’s a deal, you know that Gnaw.”

He smiled.  A bit unnerving as two inch teeth were revealed.  One massive hand grabbed a chicken wing and tossed in in his mouth.  Crunching on bone and all.  It wasn’t an intimidation tactic… intentionally.  Gnaw just liked food, and bones.  That’s how we got to our working relationship.

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“I love banter.  So spooky, so fun.  Make Gnaw feel like super spy.  Word on street big lizards in town for party.”

“A party?  Wait, just like that?  Normally you hold your info as close as your pay.  Frankly I’m a bit disappointed.”

The smile returned revealing a sliver of bone.  Shudder.  “That word on street.  Word on meat know more.”

I felt myself grinning and pulled out a tomahawk steak from my bag.  I set it down and grabbed a rack of ribs as well.  Handing the latter over to my informant, I set terms.

“Ribs now, steak after.  IF it’s good info.”

A stream of drool was slowly dripping from Gnaw’s jowls as both eyes silently agreed that the steak on the table was important enough to focus on.

“Do we have a deal Gnaw?”

He snapped back to the present and grabbed the ribs with one hand as he spit into the other.  I spit into my own palm and smacked it into the massive paw.  Sometimes it’s hard to believe that he’s a runt.  Gnaw didn’t hesitate, the second our hands parted one rib was ripped off the rack and went down his gullet.  A few crunches later he started talking between bites.

“Party is funeral and birthday.  Dragon died, rest is weird.”

Vivi scoffed cutting in, “That’s not possible, a dragon hasn’t died since Avalon was sealed off.”

Gnaw shrugged and pulled off two more ribs with a meaty chomp.

“Big lizards say party of life and death.  For Dragon.  You call Flanna.  Lake lady coming to town too.”  That was big news.  If Flanna was really dead that was already front page worthy.  She was the Red Queen of dragons.  It was mostly just a title, but the pull she had from personally knowing King Arthur and the whole court from the first age was quite significant.  Gnaw finished his ribs and started reaching for the steak, which I grabbed.

“One last question, you said the info was weird but not why.  What triggered your instincts?”

Gnaw did something unusual for him.  He sat back and got deep in thought.  Lolling his head from one side to the other before looking to me again and giving a small nod, as if he agreed with someone else on what to say.

“They stink like fear.”

That’s… unnerving.  I handed Gnaw the thick cut meat and thanked him as he left.  Meanwhile I tried to process all the information.  If Flanna was dead then there should be more buzz about it.  Unless people are keeping it quiet on purpose.  But why?  There’s no real position to fill, it’s like a celebrity death.  Real power is with the elves anymore, and the Lady of the Lake, Lady Nimue, keeps elections in their corner.  Gnaw also mentioned that she was coming to the funeral.  If that was true then that would confirm his story as well.  The lady hadn’t come to the valley outside of a press conference, since I’d started paying attention at least.

“Vivi, I want to confirm whether or not The Lady is really coming to the valley.  Do you have enough info to start a story with?”

She chuckled before staring at me in disbelief, “Are you kidding?  There’s no way we can try sending a story like that to Cork.  None of it can be true.  Flanna dying would be massive news, but she’s confirmed to be in Roost for the past decade.  Her last interview was last week!  You were right Gob, in fact dubious may have been putting it lightly.  I’m heading back to the news pit to find a good word to yell on the streets tomorrow.”

I quickly threw my hand on her arm, “Even if Gnaw is wrong about all of that, it still doesn’t explain why the dragons are coming to the valley.  That part is confirmed by both of us.  At least keep an ear to the ground about where they’re meeting for me?”

I used my trump card to seal the deal, grabbing my ears and pulling them below my chin to frame large pleading eyes.  I looked like a green kitten all swaddled on the side of the road.  Helpless and impossible to refuse, goblin eyes hadn’t failed me yet.  Vivi let out a deep sigh, victory tasted sweet.

“Fine.  Fine!  But only because I-- might get to see the frozen tyrant AND if you buy dinner today.  I’ll tell you if I hear anything.”

I pumped my fist and literally jumped for joy.  Goblin eyes win again, “Yes! You’re the best, I’m off to go work in Circle Square.  See you tonight.”

I gave her a quick hug and dashed out the door.  Skeletons be damned, fear could wait until I had finished my shift.

————————————————————

Round Table Square, or Circle Square as it was known, was the largest hub in all of New Camelot.  Roadways bordered the square on all sides with several lanes for horseless carriages, commonly called cars, to travel.  A large ornate fountain dominated the center of the area feeling more at home in a park than in the stone laid grounds it resided in.  Surrounding that were eight raised dais for criers to shout their news from and sell papers to folks who had cash.  The southernmost dais, with Lord Gawain’s crest on it, was leased by our paper.  Currently spreading the news was a human coworker of mine named Percy.  I waved him down and moved to take his place.  Percy was a mid height human, about five foot seven inches.  He was deemed ‘unattractive’ by most.  Humans all looked a little too… wet to me but oh well.  There was minor stubble pocked across his jaw and a couple sweat stains on his chest.  Percy wasn’t the best at his job, but he was louder than most of us.  He was fairly skinny and had long hair better suited on an elf than a man, but it was bound behind his head.  Some strands had busted free and dangled in front of his face as he noticed me.

Relief hit him like Father Time as he visibly aged once the tension left.  Sweat was wiped back through slightly too greasy hair as he welcomed me, “You came at the perfect time Gob, my lungs were about to give out.”

“It’s because you smoke so much tobacco, you should switch to kingsleaf like the rest of the criers.” I teased and gave him a fist bump as I hopped onto the platform.

Percy made a face and shook his head, “Makes my hands tingly, you know I hate things that mess with my hands.  How’s Vrir, I saw she wasn’t scheduled to shout today.”

I laid my hand flat in front of me and wobbled it to either side, “She’s a bit mad at me.  Following a new story and I have her doing some scouting.”

“I swear one of these days your ambition is going to land you in the boss’s office.  Good or bad.”

I stuck my tongue out at him, “Love the confidence Percy.  Maybe remind me that death is around the corner next time too.  Where’s the call sheet?”

He winced while handing me the list of headlines and juicy gossip to tell about for the next couple hours.  Quickly scribbling the schedule for breaks on the bottom I waved goodbye and got my water station set up.  I stood as tall as I could and started my chant.  Tag lines about celebrity drama and crime dominated most of my list with the exception of one line about the upcoming voting for some zoning law.  It’s a mostly mindless job, just yell and sell.  It sure gave me a lot of time to think about how to get news on The Lady of the Lake.

Lady Nimue was the closest thing to a foreign power inside the city.  Recently elections were more popular than magic swords but being the chooser, Merlin’s widow, and representative of fae, gave her perks even with Flanna.  She advised the government on many issues and worked as an impartial decider in elections, including any voting.  She almost always had a guard detail and they don’t take kindly to aspiring reporters interviewing their charge.  Especially a goblin that is more likely to be working for the Green Coat gang.

My train of thought was interrupted by a bit of excitement in the crowd.  Several black suited burly guys had made a bubble around someone.  As one unit they moved across the field toward a large radio station building.  I sneered involuntarily.  Radio was the next big thing, and yeah I knew that, but when it comes to solid reporting there’s nothing better than pen on paper.  I caught a quick glimpse at the slip of a person between the mammoths that huddled around them.  Maybe five feet tall wearing blue and silver robes with a hood covering their features.  Along the back was the crest of King Arthur, but… that would mean…. I hopped off my dais and dashed through the crowd as fast as I was able.  Ducking between legs and around skirts is a lot easier when you’re the lower end of three feet tall.  Once I was on the outside of the main clump of bodies I made a beeline for the radio station.  My mind raced.  If I went for the front door I’d never see a thing before I got punted into the crowd by one of the giants around her.  If I snuck in however, now that was a different story.  I absolutely had to know if I was right.

My ragged shoes slapped on the alleys brickwork which seemed to be perpetually wet.  I sidled up to the back door and pulled out one of my families keepsakes, a lock pick set.  Nothing fancy but that’s goblins for you.  “Never ignore a shiny no matter how secure”, as my mother said when she gave it to me.  I guess she was expecting me to go after treasure instead of gossip, but I’ve always been the odd one out.  That also explains why I suck at lock-picking.  I grumbled as I felt the pins falling back down for the third time despite my efforts.  By now the group should have arrived at the front and already be looking for a room to start recording in.  I willed my fingers to remember how to break the law and fiddled with the pins faster than before.  Then I felt the lock unlatch, success!  But… I had only touched the second pin, did my heart do the rest for me?  The door started creaking outwards into the alley which answered that.  Someone was coming out.

I leapt sideways to try and hide between the open door and the alley wall.  My feet caught on a stray weed breaking through the bricks as I made the first movement, and I ended up face-planting into the street.  There was a short gasp from whoever discovered me, it was now or never.  I rolled over and looked frantically for any detail that would give her away.  Only a handful of inches in front of my face were two deep seaweed green eyes framed by brown hair pulled back into a nondescript bun.  Her features were angular but not overly sharp, striking like a sculpture in sunlight.  She smiled and her everything changed.  Brown hair to blonde, sharp details to plump, green eyes to brown.  She instantaneously became unforgettably forgettable.  The Lady of the Lake brushed a hand against my cheek and while my jaw stammered to ask a question she stopped me with one sentence.

“Sleep tiny watcher, they aren’t ready for your part yet.”

Blackness overtook me in the moments after as I watched her make two bold steps westward.  Toward a place Nimue hadn’t been seen alone before.  To the slums of New Camelot.  To the valley, where the dragon queens funeral would be held.