Half a month later, in the sea-eroded hall of Torturer's Deep,
Roro Uhoris burst in, travel-worn and weary.
Inside, only Lo Quen and the ever-present Jaelena were waiting.
Lo Quen set aside the Valyrian steel sword he had been polishing, his sharp gaze cutting over Roro's sweat-shined face.
"Roro, why such a delay?" Lo Quen asked.
Roro drew a breath, wiped his brow, but his eyes gleamed with excitement. "Lord, the trip to Spear Handle Village wasn't wasted. I brought back the repair materials you asked for—and managed to secure some heavy crossbows and catapults as well."
He lowered his voice, a smug note creeping in. "And there was a real prize. Merchants brought in fine timber from the Seven Kingdoms, perfect for building large ships. The price was right, so I bought up a batch. What's more, I found a few shipwrights from Tyrosh, good craftsmen, who were being hounded over gambling debts. I managed to talk and scare them into coming with me."
After gulping from his waterskin, he went on. "With supplies and men in hand, I followed your orders. I spread the word in taverns and at the docks—that Torturer's Deep had a new master. I made it sound convincing, told them we'd just taken over, still sorting through Caggo's scraps, drowning in work."
A sly grin tugged at his lips. "Didn't expect the news to spread faster than the sea breeze. I'd barely sailed out with the fleet when a few sneaky ships started tailing me. They flew Jawbreak Island's tattered banner. Those bastards don't even bother hiding their plundering—wanting the whole world to know they're Caggo's mad dogs. Took me no small effort, weaving through reef channels, to finally lose them."
Lo Quen tapped the armrest of the rough stone chair with his fingers. "You're certain? They were Jawbreak men?"
"I'd know them even in ashes," Roro swore with a hard nod. "That scarred face on the lead ship—Caggo's own man."
"So, Caggo has his nose stretched this far, already eyeing Torturer's Deep."
Lo Quen's eyes narrowed in thought. "But the question is, will this mad shark dare to bite?"
"Lord, let me go," Roro urged, his eyes flashing with the thrill of a hunter. "East of Jawbreak Island lies Razor Reef—treacherous currents, rocks sharp as knives packed thick. But I know passages not even ghosts could chart. I'll linger there, look like a patrolling fool or a fat sheep strayed from the flock. If that brute Caggo can't resist, he'll send ships after me. Once they follow me into the reef..." He mimed a closing circle with his hands. "That's our slaughterhouse."
Lo Quen's brow creased. "Caggo... is he truly that reckless?"
The memory of Crab Claw's trap at Torturer's Deep was still fresh. He dared not underestimate pirate lords who had lived their lives steeped in blood.
But after a moment's hesitation, he gave his decision.
"Your plan is worth trying. But we wait until our ships are repaired." He turned to the silver-armored guard at his side. "Jaelena, you will remain here at Torturer's Deep. Guard it well."
Jaelena inclined her head silently.
...
With the fine timber Roro had brought, skilled Tyroshi shipwrights, and ample supplies, repairs at the harbor surged ahead.
The three captured double-oared war galleys—the Nest of the Crab and her two smaller sisters, Reefbreaker and Abyssal Stranglehold—along with a dozen smaller oared ships, lay in the makeshift docks like wounded sea beasts.
Craftsmen directed sailors as they replaced rotting ribs and planks with oak and ironwood, planed down rough edges, carved mortise-and-tenon joints, and sealed the seams with boiling fish glue and tung oil.
The clang of hammers, the rasp of saws, and the shouts of shipwrights filled the days and nights, the air thick with the tang of fresh shavings and oil.
For half a month, Lo Quen waited like a crouching beast within Torturer's Deep, prepared for Caggo's strike.
Yet from Jawbreak Island came no move. Not even a scout ship appeared.
The pirates were no fools.
To storm Torturer's Deep, they would have to brave the narrow Crack Channel and the cliff-top defenses—enough to bleed any attacker white.
A siege to starve them out was just as impossible.
The warm bay within was a natural fishery, its stockpiles of dried fish piled high.
At the cliff's base, rainwater gathered into clear pools, ensuring a steady supply of fresh water.
At last, after weeks of relentless work, Lo Quen's fleet emerged renewed.
The massive double-hulled warship, the Nest of the Crab, stood tall once again, its masts towering into the sky. Heavy crossbows and catapults newly mounted on its fore and aft decks crouched like steel beasts, radiating deadly menace.
The other two war galleys had likewise regained their former might. Even the medium-sized oared vessels, though humble, had been patched, fitted with ballistae and catapults of varying sizes. Crude as they were, they now carried a fierce, rugged air.
Lo Quen stepped onto the solid deck of the Nest of the Crab. Roro followed at his back, introducing, "Lord, this is the Nest of the Crab, once Caggo's flagship. Now it's yours."
"Excellent." Lo Quen's gaze swept across the fleet. "Roro, the fleet is ready. Carry out the plan."
"Yes, my lord." A sharp light gleamed in Roro's eyes. He quickly summoned his five hundred hardened pirates to board the fastest, shallowest-draft oared ships.
With supplies and water replenished, the ships shot out of Torturer's Deep like arrows loosed from the string, racing toward the Razor Reef east of Jawbreak Island.
Lo Quen, meanwhile, led Jorah Mormont, a thousand pirate infantry, and five hundred silent Dragon Soul Guards aboard the main warships and remaining oared vessels, trailing far behind Roro's flotilla.
"Ser Jorah," Lo Quen said to the Bear Island knight beside him, his face still dark, "once Roro has lured the fish into the net, we strike from both sides. Leave none alive."
Jorah gave only a low grunt in reply, his eyes drifting unwillingly toward the direction of Torturer's Deep—toward the bond he could not sever.
The sun blazed overhead, its scorching rays baking the sea until the air steamed with suffocating heat, heavy with the stench of salt.
Roro's small ships swaggered along the outer edge of Razor Reef, even edging close to Jawbreak Island's patrol lines in open provocation.
Sure enough, within half a day, three patrol boats flying Jawbreak Island's flag closed in like sharks drawn by blood.
They did not attack at once. One vessel broke off and sped away, clearly to carry word, while the other two shadowed Roro's ships at a measured distance—neither closing in nor falling back.
Time crawled in the tense pursuit, the sea and sky slowly sinking into dusk.
Roro followed his planned course, guiding the pursuers steadily toward the jagged maze of reefs where dangerous currents churned.
Yet the two enemy ships still only trailed, making no move to attack or summon reinforcements.
A chill breeze swept across the flagship's deck, and unease spread through Lo Quen's mind like ink clouding clear water.
Beside him, Jorah Mormont's brow was furrowed so tightly it seemed knotted. His rough fingers rubbed the hilt of his sword unconsciously, his deep voice carrying the weight of instinct.
"Something's wrong. They're buying time. Where are their reinforcements? Where is Caggo's main force?"
A thought flashed through Lo Quen's mind like lightning, and a cold dread seized him.
"Damn it!"
...
[Upto 50 chapters ahead for now]
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