Gale cringed as he barely swallowed a mouthful of salty water. He felt like cleaning his tongue with bleach afterward. Rather instead he crunched several strong mints, trying to dismiss the call of alcohol during such an insufferable wait, but in its absence, his solution somehow worked.

Or at least made it so withdrawal was comparatively pleasant.

The trip to dover was… forgettable, given the circumstances. The numbness had been the only presence throughout the entire journey. Only now, sitting waiting for that damn ferry surrounded by… them, did he now have some semblance of conscious thought eek into his mind.

The main one in particular: 'Turn that bloody music down.'

The presence of his fellow man in such close proximity was horrendous. Gale had tried getting a maybe an hour's rest in, yet the endless chattering and blaring music was relentless. It was like trying to sleep during a festival.

Yet Gale tuned in with some level of curiosity at one array of sounds in particular. He could catch muffled words here and there, a language he spoke. A context he understood.

"Turn that up would you." He instructed the couple in the car next to him. They gave him a curious look, before thankfully obliging.

"... Well the consensus from the scientific community is still out really. Many major research institutes are still demanding more irrefutable evidence on the matter, yet one thing that cannot be understated is the sheer number of responses it has had over one element in particular." The guest was clearly a scientist of some kind. There was a bitterness to his rather wordy response.

"In regards to this 'City'?" The radio DJ responded ever upbeat, Gale's eyebrows lowered.

"Exactly." The scientist said. "I'm amazed by it myself, the sheer amount of people, myself included, that actually know of this City… it is absolutely baffling."

"But what is it exactly?" the presenter asked intrigued. "Are we talking like Bristol, London, Reading..?"

"Don't you ever compare the City to Reading." Gale's voice was full of disgust and bile, earning him another set of unsure glances from the occupants of the vehicle he now leaned on. "...or Bristol for that matter… let alone London."

"Do you know anything about this?" The woman asked, turning the radio down. Gale nodded.

"The City is, well. It's the City… It's the only word for it, the only name it could have. Some have called it others, Heaven… Asgard… Urbe Somnia..." Gale's expression softened, in his peripheral vision he could see others listening in. He raised his voice. Finally, after so many years he had an audience. "But the City predates all of those names… It always was… Spire after Spire almost grown from glass and marble of every colour, reaching into the skies for miles under a perpetual dawning sun… Causeways of crystal and stone spanning between them. Light radiated through it in all colours, flowing through every surface. It contains the dreams and wishes of every human ever born on planet earth, every one to ever achieve true sentience. It is our home, if Earth is where our body lives. Then the City is where our soul does."

Gale smiled at the recognition on their faces. "You remember it don't you?"

"How did you know that?" The woman's partner asked, very serious. In the silence that followed one could hear the continuing discussion on the radio. The woman turned it up, as if it too had an answer.

"...Cameron from Worcestershire says 'I remember it! What do you mean others have had it?', Daisy from Bristol says 'I climbed those spires as a child, they glimmer like a geode in the sunlight… Is this a trick?' and Rachel from Wiltshire says 'I barely remember it but I had that same dream. I don't remember when they stopped…'"

"You're not the only ones who do." Gale said as the DJ continued to list off messages one after another. Gale looked around him, people watched him carefully. He had ripped the world out from underneath them. Now was the moment. That one that comes once in your life, that one that can change your tracks forever. He reached for it, he gave it his all.

This was his moment...

"I have spent…" He raised his voice further, to the crowd around him. "So long… waiting for a chance when I can tell people what they have done… and now…" He lit another cigarette, surveying the crowd around him. People of all forms, of all ages. Travellers and dockstaff, so many had just appeared. They looked curious, They looked scared, why wouldn't they be?

There world had changed overnight...

So they listened…

They were listening ...

"If you could see it now… Your heart would break. Mine does every night. It's so simple its stupid. Why do you think people always say dreams are magical? Because the real dreams. The ones you are meant to have? They bloody are!" He took a long drag on his cigarette. The officer in him came back. Head up, shoulders back. This is the cause worth fighting for. "If you're scared, you should be. If you think this can't be real, you're probably right… But it is. But do not be scared of the City, be scared of what you have all done so unknowingly yet so willingly... There is no denying that fact. The City exists. The how and the why it doesn't matter. What matters now is that fear." He grabbed at the air. "Harness it. Hold it. Take it into you and let it make your heart beat. You will have a choice tonight, when you go into that rest. It's as simple as it is elegant. Don't fear falling, as much as you should not fear failing. The City always wanted to push us further, to achieve the best we can and you do that by embracing that fear. By being brave. When you dream of falling, don't fear it. Challenge it. Say to yourselves 'I will break the floor not myself!' Chant it if you have to! Believe it!"

He didn't care if they thought he was mad now. Why change the habit of a lifetime? He didn't care if they ignored him. Why change that too? Some of them were listening.

That was the change he wanted.

"I fought for this country. I bled. I made others do the same. I won the ultimate battle of wills staring down the barrel of my enemies, completely at their mercy. But not even that scares me as much as a world without the City. it defines us, it guides us. It has defined us, it has guided us. Call it god, call it the home of the Gods. It doesn't matter. The City is dying. It is one heartbeat away from death. When you dream of falling tonight don't lerch awake, go see what's at the bottom of that drop. You will be rewarded. Being brave isn't marching amongst hundreds of others, being brave is going where your mind screams at you not to."

Gale watched the few ignorant dock workers start to disperse the crowd. It was time to board. Some lingered though. To them he thanked them a thousand times, and then a thousand times more. He looked back into the car beside him, the two travellers were agasp. They slowly changed their tone though, both extending him a hand in thanks. He shrugged half heartedly, before shaking each one firmly in turn. He felt like a priest. This was his last sermon, he'd end it how he always had: "You can remember it. You must return to the City."

When Gale climbed back into the Mercedes he took a moment before firing up the engine. The cars ahead of him slowly filtered off towards the awaiting ferry as storm clouds passed overhead. He relit what remained of his cigarette, then set off. He carefully watched the approaching head of the storm as the gaping maw of the ferry grew larger and larger.

The boat rocked as he parked up, and the Mercedes locked as he walked away, abiding its master's wish and keeping itself safe for the next leg of their final journey. Gale mingled with his fellow passengers only long enough to get out to the ship's deck as it began to depart

He stood on the ship's stern, the wind in his hair as Dover sailed away from him. He slowly brought his hand up, taking a long drag on his cigarette as the ferry made headway to Calais. It was then it dawned on him, and he took a moment to close his eyes when it did.

"Goodbye." He whispered to the ever fading coastline. He aimed it at no one in particular. It was then he chose to make it ever more final.

He reached into his jacket's inside pocket, digging into its depths until he removed the jangling shards of metal from it. Keys. he flicked through them, trying to remember which ones were for his kingdom. Their shape never came to him though.

With one last check to make sure they weren't the keys for the Mercedes, he reeled back…

and let them sail off over the waves below him.

"Thankyou for being my homeland…"

He smiled as his life went with them. He didn't follow their descent, instead he focused on the shore. Across the hills and busy roads, around the towns to the cities. He looked off to the young man probably at this point going about his evening rituals.

"I'm proud of you, Alban." He whispered to him. He imagined the boy looking up at his father's voice. He imagined his smile back. "Done good you have, son."

"Like you always have…"