And The Hunter Home From The Hill
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_Sometimes the city gets so still it's either frightening or relaxing, and a body can't decide which.
It's four in the morning, and dawn is beginning to show a grubby light, one in need of a good scrubbing. Guards stroll slowly in ones and twos along their beats, hoping for nothing and getting it. Cats stir and eye seagulls hopefully, who eye them back with cynical avian caution.
In a low cellar in the dock quarter, the urchins are adjudging a new Judiciall Nypper. It's gone five ballots, seven purses, four bells, and three spring-loaded finger-traps; almost a record, only five less than the Farking Long Adjudgment of 1467. Gods a mercy, I woz gonna be out a this fiv hour ago, the delegates silently whine.
In her room, Lisa is getting lucky; we'll respect her privacy for now.
Casca is sleeping the sleep of the virtuous in a ship anchored in the harbor. Her cabin has a double bed lined with silk sheets, and she intends to sleep until one in the morning, because she can.
Audible Scoggins careens down an alleyway; his horrified muttering a jarring element to the still hour of the city. He's seen something, maybe, and he doesn't like it.
Yawning, the Rat-Master General glares down at him as she stalks along the rooftops, her rusty plate field armor clanking, dirty blond hair waving in the morning breeze. Scouts have reported an advance column of rodents north of the Dock Front Forward Position Bravo. Battle calls!
Jake arrives quietly in town by the early boat from Oscura. He pays his fare and looks blankly around the waterfront. There's a ship coming in, and he watches with interest the many men and women aboard it, their banners and flags, their odd regalia, and their box.
Tromp. Tromp. Tromp.
In their cellar, the urchins are getting half desperate, half hopeful. Surely the next round of ballots will do it? Or maybe the finger-spiker? Swift Ted raps a makeshift gavel and starts to give the word, then suddenly holds up a hand for quiet. The stillness of the city creeps slowly into the cellar, and then above it they can hear it.
Tromp, Tromp, Tromp._
"Well Captain Tidus, he gained the day
Walk him along, John, carry him along
Well Captain Tidus he gained the day
Carry him to his burying ground"_The urchins creep up to the ground floor to have a look.
Casca stirs in her bed, grumbles, and pulls a pillow over her head. What the nine hells is that noise? It's not even five!
Tromp, Tromp, Tromp._
"Though the day be stormy
Walk him along, John, carry him along
Though the seas be stormy
We'll carry him to his burying ground"_The Wavebreakers are marching from the ship, in closed ranks, the emblems of their guild upon their clothing and their capes and their hats and their banners, and in the center of their column is a long box draped with the flag of the guild.
Tromp, tromp, tromp._
"We'll dig his grave with a silver spade
Walk him along, John, carry him along
His shroud of the finest silk will be made
Carry him to his burying groundThough the day be stormy
Walk him along, John, carry him along
Though the seas be stormy
We'll carry him to his burying ground"_They sing as they march, an old song, the sign that a Wavebreaker captain won't be stopping by the Mule again, or anywhere else on this plane of existence for that matter.
On the rooftops, the Rat-Master General Draws her sword in salute and stands to attention.
Tromp, Tromp, Tromp._
"We'll lower him down on a golden chain
Walk him along, John, carry him along
On every inch we'll carve his name
Carry him to his burying groundThough the day be stormy
Walk him along, John, carry him along
Though the seas be stormy
We'll carry him to his burying ground"_Audible Scoggins falls into the rear of the procession, singing along, although his words aren't quite the same as everyone else's. They wind through the docks, the sun slowly creeping along the horizon, the only noise in a dim ocean of stillness.
Lisa wishes whoever was making all that noise would just shut up; the part of her brain focusing on other things is worried that there's going to be some sort of riot or disturbance and she'll have to get dressed and go downstairs to be a guard.
The Wavebreakers are proudly, defiantly singing at the top of their lungs now as they march._
"Well, Captain Tidus died long ago
Walk him along, John, carry him along
He's gone where the stormy winds don't blow
Carry him to his burying groundThough the day be stormy
Walk him along, John, carry him along
Though the seas be stormy
We'll carry him to his burying groundWell, Captain Tidus he's dead and he's gone
Walk him along, John, carry him along
Yes Captain Tidus he's long dead and gone
Carry him to his burying groundBut Captain Tidus he gained the day
Walk him along, boys, carry him along
King Tidus triumphant has gained the day
Carry him to his burying ground"_They wind out of the city, towards the high hills overlooking the sea, and some of the stillless returns. Soon the sun will be up and all will be noise and commotion again.
The urchins return to their balloting. They will be there two more hours. The Rat-Master General begins her offensive. Jake buys a knife. Casca tries to go back to sleep. Lisa… well, privacy.
And the last proud, bellowed verses still echo._
"Break a wave, there, matey
Walk him along, John, carry him along
Though the seas be stormy
We'll carry him to his burying ground!"
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A silent figure in gray-and-gold plate armor, arms folded, watches the procession from a position near the harbor lighthouse, his cloak flapping in the early morning breeze. He looks on respectfully until the men have passed, then turns to leave, a slight frown playing on his old face.
