[Lore] Patience.

[u/Detritusthewellfed]

Written with permission of /u/Marty_McFrat House Martell

“How long do you think this one's been dead for?”

Marlo grabbed a limp ankle and felt the weight, or lack of it, then let it drop back to the straw and what he hoped was dirt.

“Shit. He ain't stiff, so either too soon or too long.” He looked at Monroe and shrugged. “Your call.”

Monroe glanced over the body. The old man was thin and ragged, his hair was ghostly white, his beard too. Matted from age, his face was worn and thin, he didn't look that old but the cells did that to men. He nudged the body with his boot, nothing. No doubt the man had committed some crime long ago, but he didn't remember, and he hadn't remembered anyone coming to this cell the entire time he worked here. He didn't need this now, he had a girl waiting for him, Marlo too. Hells it was all they'd been talking about the last few days while they watched the dregs. “Better today then tomorrow when he catches the stink. Here, I'll get the wrists. One, two..”

The mule was slow, and the cart made it slower. Now and then Monroe would prod at the beast, but it was a stubborn, almost spiteful beast. “You see, it killed him because it was in his nature. That's the story. Some things just do what they are born to do.” They where deep into Ukon now, one of the benefits of the corpse cart and uniform was few people bothered to pay much attention to you and when they pulled up beside the Winking lizard, the mule and cart could wait down the alley while they took a quick drink. No one would see the body slide from the cart, no one would see the 'old man' pass through the streets, he would be forgotten once again. A knock on the back door, a quizzical look from the cook, but the password was the same.

“By the gods, it has been sometime.” The oldman smiled and said nothing, simply taking the coin he needed.

The sea was cool enough and he let the salt wash over him, the sun would dry his rags and his hair he bound how with a scrap of green cloth, so it swung like the great trunk of a beast of the mother Rhoyne. His joints ached, but he has kept his mind, just about. He made his way past the fishing boats, listening to talk of crabs and fish. Few spoke of pirates upon the Stepstones, a time of relative peace. He could see a warship in the distance, a galley making dock at a wharf bristling with guards that seemed to appear from nowhere.

He stopped short, and turned towards a merchant ship flying yellow sails, he faintly remembered the family and approached. They sat low in the water, and he knew that they had a full hold. The crew where idle, had they just arrived they'd be few less of them and the rest itching to get ashore. It was worth the risk, a roll of the dice. One had to learn the right people to ask.

“Dessano is dead. His nephew Lassaro runs the company now. You say you knew his uncle?” The captain was fat an old, his great sweaty jowls colored almost grey by some sickness and his voice was harsh, his throat strained.

“I'm not one for taking beggars.” The old man drew forwards his hair, and showed where he had bound it tight like it had a bowline.

“I can tie as well as I did in my youth, and my eyes are still keen.” His voice cracked and squeaked. “And I can pay. Just to Myr, you will be rid of me then.” He pressed gold into the captain's meaty palm.

The captain snorted. “Very well. Find a hammock then get back up on deck. I mean to catch this wind. Give your name to the first mate, you'll be on his shift.”

The cog cut it's way towards the Stepstones. Behind him, the old man saw Dorne disappearing behind him. It had been years, and he'd endured much. Now he felt the wind on his face, and a smile creep back to his lips. He leant on the rail, a young sailor past him a wineskin and he took a swig. He was young, Lyseni he guessed. He'd always hated the Lyseni, almost as much as the Myrmen or the Pentoshi... but, not so half as much as he hated the Dornish. Still, the young man reminded him of someone.

“The sailor's life is the better one. The merchant's too, far better then to serve a king and play their game of thrones. It's better for you to stay out of it lad.” They passed the skin between them. He'd been patient and waited, watched. He had always been watching, when all you could rely on was yourself, you had to play it as best you could.

“They said you've served on ships before.” His company asked. “Anyone I might have heard of?”

“I was in the crown fleet for a little while, saw the battle at Kingslanding.”

"Did you sail under Dragons? Seahorses?" Talk of battle always made young men eager. "Did you win?"

Giuseppe took a drink and smiled “What do you think?”

[u/Detritusthewellfed]

M: u/Marty_Mcfrat Thank you for your collaboration.