Chapter 27: The Pirate Problem - Part 2
POV: Corwyn Darke
The pirate leader was a scarred man named Harren, formerly a sailor on merchant vessels before debts and bad choices pushed him into raiding.
I interrogated him in the captured camp as soldiers secured cargo and prisoners around us. He knelt in the sand, hands bound, watching me with the desperate calculation of a man who knew his life hung on my next words.
"You attacked a ship under my protection," I said. "In waters I'm sworn to secure. Killed three sailors, threatened my partnership with House Velaryon."
"We didn't know—"
"You knew exactly what you were doing. You scouted the harbor, counted our defenses, chose a target you thought we couldn't protect." I crouched to meet his eyes. "You gambled that a minor Crownlands lord wouldn't respond seriously. You lost."
[ 💀 INTERROGATION ]
[ SUBJECT: HARREN (PIRATE CAPTAIN) ]
[ COOPERATION: MODERATE ]
[ INTELLIGENCE VALUE: LIMITED ]
[ RECOMMENDED DISPOSITION: EXECUTION (DETERRENT) ]
"I'll tell you everything," Harren babbled. "Other groups, hiding places, contacts in the cities who fence stolen goods. Just spare my life."
"Other groups?"
"Three more bands working these waters. Small operations, opportunists like us. They'll hit your harbor too once they hear about it—fat merchants, valuable cargo, easy picking."
The information was useful, but the implication was clear. This attack was just the beginning. If I didn't establish absolute security, I'd face endless harassment that would drive merchants to safer ports.
"You'll identify these other groups for my men," I said, standing. "Every location, every leader, every contact. Then we'll discuss your fate."
POV: Maester Harlan
The executions took place at the harbor entrance, where every arriving ship would see.
Eight pirates—Harren and his worst offenders—hung from gallows constructed specifically for the purpose. Their bodies would remain until they rotted, a message to anyone else considering Duskhollow waters as hunting grounds.
"Harsh," Harlan observed quietly to Lord Corwyn as the crowds dispersed.
"Necessary." The lord's voice was flat, emotionless. "Mercy is for those who can afford it. Right now, I need fear. Fear keeps merchants safe. Fear keeps my people alive. Fear protects everything we've built."
"And the others?"
"Four joined our patrol crews—pressed men who were forced into piracy, willing to earn honest wages instead. The rest go to the Crown for judgment." Lord Corwyn turned from the gallows. "I'm not a monster, Maester. But I won't let squeamishness destroy what we've accomplished."
[ ⚖️ JUSTICE DISPENSED ]
[ EXECUTIONS: 8 ]
[ RECRUITED: 4 (PATROL CREWS) ]
[ TRANSFERRED TO CROWN: 0 ]
[ DETERRENT VALUE: HIGH ]
Harlan followed his lord back toward the harbor, where construction continued despite the morning's grim business. Workers hammered and sawed, sailors loaded cargo, merchants negotiated deals. Life went on, protected by the brutal display at the harbor mouth.
"He's learning the hardest lessons of lordship. That mercy must sometimes yield to necessity. That protecting the many sometimes requires cruelty to the few."
Whether those lessons would preserve his soul or corrode it remained to be seen.
POV: Corwyn Darke
The security infrastructure went up in the following weeks.
[ 🏗️ HARBOR DEFENSES ]
[ WATCHTOWERS: 2 (HARBOR ENTRANCE) ]
[ SIGNAL FIRES: 5 (COASTAL WARNING SYSTEM) ]
[ GARRISON: 30 SOLDIERS (PERMANENT) ]
[ PATROL BOATS: 3 (PURCHASED) ]
[ TOTAL INVESTMENT: 2,000 GOLD ]
The expenditure hurt—two thousand gold was a significant chunk of our treasury—but the alternative was worse. An undefended harbor attracted predators. A defended one attracted merchants.
I stood on the completed northern watchtower, watching the first patrol boat make its circuit of the harbor approaches. Small vessel, six crew, but enough to spot trouble and raise alarm. Two more would join it within the month, establishing round-the-clock coverage of our waters.
"The merchants are impressed." Corlys Velaryon's representative had arrived to assess the situation after the attack. "Lord Velaryon sends his compliments on your decisive response. He'd expected weeks of negotiation and petition. Instead, you eliminated the threat within days."
"Threats to my harbor are threats to my future." I turned from the view. "How does this affect our partnership?"
"Positively, my lord. You've demonstrated you can protect Velaryon investment. That matters more than pretty words and contracts." The representative smiled slightly. "Several merchant houses have already inquired about docking arrangements. Your... display... at the harbor entrance has been widely discussed."
"Good. Let them discuss. Let them understand that Duskhollow is serious about security."
I drafted letters to those merchant houses that evening, offering preferential terms to early commitments. The crisis had become opportunity—proof of capability that no amount of marketing could have achieved.
"Word from Lord Rykker," Edric reported, bringing the evening's correspondence. "His cavalry intercepted two pirates trying to flee overland. Both captured, awaiting your judgment."
"Add them to the patrol crews if they're willing. Execute if they're not." I sealed a letter and reached for the next. "And send my thanks to Rykker. His positioning was excellent."
"There's also this." Edric produced a small scroll, sealed with an unfamiliar sigil. "Arrived by fast rider from King's Landing. The messenger said it was personal."
I broke the seal and read.
Lord Darke,
I heard about your pirate troubles and your decisive response. Father says you're "building a proper domain" - high praise from him. When your harbor opens, I should like to visit. Court grows ever more tedious, and your stories of actually accomplishing things are the only interesting conversations I have.
Princess Rhaenyra
A smile crossed my face despite the day's grim work.
"Good news, my lord?" Edric asked.
"Perhaps." I tucked the letter into my doublet. "We may be expecting a royal visitor when the harbor opens."
Edric's eyes widened. "A princess? Here?"
"Here." I looked out the window at the harbor, where torchlight flickered on the water and patrol boats maintained their vigil. "Which means everything needs to be perfect. Three months, Edric. We have three months to finish construction, establish trade routes, and make Duskhollow worthy of hosting the heir to the Iron Throne."
"That's... ambitious, my lord."
I laughed—a real laugh, releasing some of the tension that had built since the pirate attack.
"When has that ever stopped us?"
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