"Fortune really does favor the bold!"
Staring at the mountain of glittering treasure, Logar couldn't help but feel a surge of raw satisfaction.
He had bet his life on this raid — and it had paid off in fucking spades.
Pushing down the rush, he waved to his men.
"Pack up every last coin and jewel. Take it all!"
The two barely-clothed whores huddled on the bed? He didn't even glance at them. Strangers held zero interest for him.
Beyond the gold and silver, Logar made sure nothing was left behind — armor, weapons, the last scraps of food and fresh water. Out here on the Narrow Sea, those supplies were worth their weight in gold and solved their most desperate needs.
"Logar! The Dornish are finished! We own the whole outpost!"
Femon strode out of a side tent, covered in blood spatters, the Dornish commander's head still stuck on his spear like a trophy.
When he saw Logar's men hauling heavy chests and crates of weapons out of the main tent, he let out a wild laugh.
"All thanks to you, Captain! We've hit the fucking jackpot!"
Logar didn't answer right away. He simply swept his gaze across the outpost.
The pirates had turned the place into pure hell. Dornish corpses lay twisted everywhere, blood running in thin red streams through the dirt.
Captured slaves huddled in corners, hands clamped over their heads, bodies shaking so hard their teeth chattered.
A handful of Dornish had tried one last stand, but the moment the full pirate wave hit them, they went silent forever.
The stray crews who had followed Logar ashore were still frantically looting every corner, desperate to grab whatever scraps they could.
Logar ignored the vultures and turned to Femon.
"Tell everyone to move fast. Load every valuable thing onto the ships. We're leaving right now."
Femon blinked. "We just took the place… and we're leaving already? No celebration?"
Logar had no time to explain. Dorne was a full kingdom right across the water. The second they heard their outpost had been wiped out, they'd come screaming for blood. If his fleet lingered, they'd never make it out.
Bloodstone was right next door too. If the Triarchy caught wind of the fighting on Grey Gallows, they might sail in and steal the loot for themselves.
That was the brutal truth of the Stepstones — pirates were still at the bottom of the food chain. Anyone stronger could stomp them whenever they wanted.
Logar shook his head and looked toward the beach. Two large Dornish warships sat there at anchor — thick black hulls, heavy sails furled tight. The sight made his blood run hot.
Those were his prizes now too.
"Load everything! Move like your lives depend on it!"
Still drenched in blood, Logar boarded the lead warship first. Drops slid from his sword and splattered the deck in tiny red dots.
His own men cheered as he passed. The outsider pirates who had come to scavenge stayed back on the sand, none of them daring to meet his eyes.
They had heard how he cut down the Dornish commander days earlier. Now they had watched him storm a fortified outpost with a handful of men. Pure terror and awe.
His crew worked like madmen — chests stacked like small mountains, holds packed with fresh water and rations.
The late-arriving pirates who had grabbed almost nothing stared with hungry eyes. Finally one found the nerve and shouted up at Logar on the deck:
"Throat-Cutter! We want to sail with you! Let us join your crew!"
The cry spread like fire. More voices joined:
"We all want to follow you! Take us in, Captain!"
Logar looked down at them with a cold smile.
"The Dornish on the mainland are probably going to hate my guts after this. If you're not afraid of dying, climb aboard."
Instead of scaring them off, his words made them lose their minds with joy. They scrambled up the gangplanks, immediately helping haul supplies.
A few pirates chose not to join. They stayed behind on the island, still picking through whatever Logar's men had left behind. For vultures, even a stripped corpse was a meal.
Smoke still rose thick over Grey Gallows as the sun climbed toward noon.
When the loading was almost done and scout ships from Bloodstone started nosing closer, Logar gave the signal.
"Set sail! We're going home!"
Sails snapped open. The two captured Dornish warships eased away from the shore, followed by the three smaller longships. The whole fleet rode low and heavy with plunder, heading back to base.
On the return voyage the sea wind blew clean across the decks, carrying away the thick smell of blood.
When no pursuit appeared behind them, Logar finally let out a long breath. He turned to the men crowded on deck.
"Brothers! As your captain I kept my word from this morning. I led you out and brought you back loaded with riches!"
"Throat-Cutter! Throat-Cutter!"
The roar was deafening. Every face burned with excitement and rock-solid loyalty.
Logar raised a hand. The noise dropped.
"And now I keep my second promise. Of everything we took today, I — your captain — take only two shares out of every ten. The rest is yours!"
The second the words left his mouth, several men dragged heavy chests onto the deck and flung them open with a crash.
Gold, jewels, pearls, and heavy sacks of silver stags spilled across the planks in a dazzling wave, setting the entire ship on fire with greed and joy.
The deck exploded. Pirates surged forward, shoving and laughing, grabbing their shares. Shouts and wild laughter mixed with the crash of waves.
Logar's original crew went crazy with delight. The newly joined pirates were straight-up stunned. A captain this generous was almost unheard of on these waters.
In the middle of the chaos, the shipwright from Driftmark stood quietly in a corner, watching Logar surrounded by cheering men.
He thought of Corlys Velaryon — the famous Sea Snake of Driftmark, bold, generous, a true lord of the sea.
This young Logar was just as handsome and even more open-handed… and far younger. That meant far greater potential.
"Logar the Throat-Cutter…" the shipwright thought silently, "this sea is about to see another king rise."
Logar never noticed the man's thoughts. He stayed calm and steady amid all the praise and cheers.
He knew exactly where their loyalty came from: his strength and the rewards he gave them. No one hated a powerful captain who opened his hands wide.
And that was exactly the image he wanted to build.
Right now he was still weak. Only by locking in their absolute loyalty — by making them willing to bleed and die for him — could he survive these treacherous waters and climb even higher.
So he would keep sharing wealth and status generously with his men.
As long as they gave him their complete devotion and were ready to kill for him.
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