Midnight rounds are unfailingly uneventful: everyone's asleep, including any enemies of the Crown. You’ll be patrolling the quiet halls, trying not to let your sword or armor clatter, and there he’ll be, a shimmering panic.
“They’re not coming, Hubert, that was a long time ago.”
They’ll kill you all. They’ll kill me.
“Got your tenses mixed up, you have. Still: I appreciate the warning. Well done, you: mission accomplished. Eternal rest well-earned.”
It never works. They’re almost here.
We don’t know what his real name was in life; ‘Hubert’ suits his face. “Best get ready, then, Hubert.”
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