"I wondered why Bloodstone had gone so quiet these past few days," Logar muttered, licking his lips as he stared at the warships bristling on the horizon. "Turns out they were waiting right here for us."
"Brothers — our guests have arrived!"
The moment the sails snapped full overhead, Logar roared to his crew.
"They want to chase us? Then let's see if we give them the chance!"
A thunderous battle-cry answered him. Every pirate bent to the oars like their lives depended on it, driving the five ships hard across the waves. The Triarchy fleet outnumbered them and had clearly come prepared. No one wanted to die cheap out here.
The southeast wind howled at their backs. The Triarchy ships hung on their tail, distance shrinking fast. Logar never let up, shouting orders to row harder.
Then, without warning, the enemy vessels slowed, turned, and sailed back toward Bloodstone.
Cheers exploded across Logar's decks. Pirates flipped rude gestures at the retreating sails, howling with laughter.
Logar raised an eyebrow. He'd been braced for a bloody scrap.
"Maybe they saw our size and decided the price wasn't worth it."
He shook his head, eased the pace, and adjusted course toward the planned rendezvous.
Half a day later the Stepstones were far behind them. They dropped anchor at a barren little island to top off water and rest the men. Pirates sprawled on the sand, sharpening blades, soaking up sun, waiting.
Days dragged by. Nothing but gulls.
Femon finally wandered over. "Captain, you sure the shipwright's info was good? The lads are about to lose their minds."
"Trust me. Tell them to hold a little longer. I'll take them somewhere worth the wait."
The crew grumbled, but Logar's word was law now. They stayed hidden.
At dawn on the fourth day the scout ship came flying back.
"Captain! Velaryon merchant ships sighted!"
Logar's violet eyes locked on three fat-bellied traders flying the silver seahorse banner. A savage grin split his face.
"Looks like Kendel came through. Everyone — battle stations. The show's about to start."
Femon frowned. "Aren't we supposed to be robbing them?"
Logar chuckled at the confusion on every face.
"According to my plan, these ships are about to suffer a 'pirate attack.' We swoop in and save them. Perfect introduction to Lord Corlys. Once he trusts us, we're in as Black sellswords."
War was coming between Blacks and Greens. Logar needed to be inside the Blacks early. The only way in was to prove his value — and the fastest way to prove it was to manufacture the moment himself.
He pointed toward the horizon behind them. "Since we need the Blacks to notice us, we'll create the opportunity."
Every head turned.
A swarm of low, flat-bottomed pirate galleys was racing out of the morning haze, oars churning, men screaming like mad dogs. Dozens of ships. Hundreds of cutthroats.
These were the stray crews Logar had quietly spread word to — the ones who'd heard about his fat Dornish haul and thought he was hitting the Velaryon traders next. They'd followed like jackals, planning to beat him to the prize and claim the glory.
They had no idea they were the bait.
Logar's men still looked a little lost, but they trusted him completely now. They readied weapons without question.
His five ships slipped out of the hidden cove — not toward the merchant fleet, but straight at the attacking pirates.
The stray crews had already reached the traders. Grappling hooks flew. Rusted blades and crude spears swarmed aboard.
"Kill!" a thick-necked pirate captain bellowed, chopping down a Velaryon guard. "The Throat-Cutter's fleet is right behind us! We take these ships first — show that silver-haired whelp who really rules these waters!"
Chaos erupted on the decks. Cloth bales slashed open, pottery smashed, spice clouds mixing with blood in the air.
The Velaryon factor stood pale in the center, shielded by two guards, screaming, "Protect the lead ship at all costs! Do not let them near it!"
From the rear, Logar watched the slaughter intensify. He didn't want to deliver corpses to Corlys.
Time to move.
"Sails up!" He ripped his longsword free, steel flashing in the sun. "Follow me! Let's gut these thieving bastards who think they can steal our meal!"
The five ships surged forward, oars drumming, every man roaring for blood.
The trap had sprung.
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