In a concealed rocky cove hidden among reefs and islets to the northeast of Sweetsister, Victar's fleet lay at anchor.
The fleet now consisted of only five medium purple-sailed galleys. The other ships had either followed Zaren to Pebble or returned to White Harbor.
"Do you think the pirates will really come?" Zaren had set off with the main force three days ago, and Victar felt uncertain. He paced back and forth on the deck, asking anxiously.
"I wonder how many ships White Harbor will send. Can we really defeat those pirates?"
"I don't know. All we have to do now is wait. When the beacon on Sweetsister is lit, you steer us toward the pirate ships." Weiss methodically wiped his Black Mamba sword with an oilcloth, his expression wooden.
"My orders are: once the beacon is lit, seize the ships, kill the pirates, and send their heads to Pebble."
Looking at Weiss's emotionless face and listening to his flat tone—as if discussing the most trivial matter—Victar's anxious heart settled slightly.
In his thirty years at sea, he had encountered pirate raids several times.
When facing large pirate ships, he would tell every crew member: If you don't want to be captured and sold as slaves, row with all your strength.
At those times, even the laziest sailors would display unprecedented resolve, shouting slogans about Braavosi never being slaves and rowing furiously.
His ship, even fully laden, would burst with surprising speed, escaping pirate attacks time and again.
If they encountered faster pirates they couldn't shake, he would order some sailors to take up bows and spears to repel boarders.
Crewmen he usually saw as timid would suddenly fight like demons once they held weapons on deck, battling pirates with immense strength and refusing to retreat even when wounded.
Victar understood that this strength stemmed from Braavos's history. Braavos was built by their ancestors—escaped slaves of various races from the Valyrian Freehold.
Slaves hated masters and yearned for freedom. They cherished their hard-won freedom above life itself.
From childhood, Braavosi heard one phrase more than any other: The great city of Braavos welcomes all who come, save for slavers.
Because of this spirit, Victar's Wavebreaker had survived numerous pirate attacks.
But this mission was different. It was to intercept and even pursue pirates.
"How do I motivate the crew to fight with all their might for this mission?"
Victar scratched his head in confusion, losing a few more of his already sparse hairs.
Although he had promised rewards far exceeding those of the Sistermen conscripts, the response had been lukewarm.
Intelligence reports said the pirate fleet had dozens of medium galleys and two or three large ones.
They were mostly professional mercenaries from Myr and Tyrosh, or seasoned pirates from the Stepstones.
His crew were mostly Braavosi sailors and oarsmen. Fighting at a distance with bows and spears was one thing, but boarding actions to seize ships? Just thinking about it made him dizzy.
"Father! Father!" Victar's thoughts were interrupted by his second son, Vickary, shouting from a distance.
Victar saw his son running toward him, face full of excitement and anticipation.
"A Peach-mark swordsman and a Black Mamba swordsman are holding a duel for promotion on the Reefbreaker. Everyone wants to watch. Can we?"
"At a time like this? You're thinking about watching a show? All of you..." Victar raised his hand to rap his foolish son on the head but stopped mid-air.
A sudden idea struck him. He changed his order.
"Keep enough men on watch for the Sweetsister beacon. The rest can go watch the duel. I have an announcement to make after it's over."
Long voyages were usually boring, with scarce entertainment.
Sistermen liked to wrestle and gamble, while Braavosi preferred Cyvasse.
But on the voyage from Braavos to Sweetsister, the sailors and oarsmen had been captivated by the sparring matches between the Peach-mark and Black Mamba swordsmen on board.
Whenever a duel occurred, even a simple practice match, the crew would gather with incredible enthusiasm.
Some even tried to learn a move or two, mimicking the swordsmen with whatever they had.
This enthusiasm peaked at the rocky cove. Since they weren't sailing, apart from fishing and ferrying supplies, almost everyone watched the duels.
When Victar arrived on the Reefbreaker's deck, the duel had already begun. Onlookers packed the deck, some even perched high in the rigging.
"Good job, lad! Keep attacking his lower body. Break Amos's stance, and you'll be a Black Mamba swordsman for sure!"
"Master Amos, don't hold back! Teach this ankle-biter a lesson!"
"Close one! Jick's thrust was so fast; how did Master Amos dodge it? I didn't even see it."
The crowd watched intently as Amos and Jick wielded practice rapiers, attacking each other agilely.
At exciting or dangerous moments, cheers or gasps would erupt from the crowd.
The scene made Victar feel a trance-like sense of déjà vu.
It felt like being back in Braavos, sitting in the stands of the Moon Pool, watching a bravo duel while singers crooned flowery lyrics for the victor.
"Don't be discouraged, lad. Next time I'll put extra beans in Amos's food."
"Jick lost again, but he's improving fast. When we left Braavos, he couldn't last a few moves against Amos. Now he puts up a decent fight."
"It's great. feels like he'll be a Black Mamba swordsman soon."
Watching the exciting duel and hearing the admiring cheers of the sailors, the lingering unease in Victar's heart vanished.
These two swordsmen were far better than any bravo he had seen in the Moon Pool.
"Silence! Captain Victar has something to say!" The captain of the Reefbreaker shouted, and the deck gradually quieted.
Everyone looked toward the helm, including Amos and Jick, who were about to leave.
Their swords and chainmail were loaned from the 'Snow & Peach' smithy. Like most Peach-mark and Black Mamba swordsmen, they served Arthur to earn enough to buy this gear.
Seeing everyone's eyes on him, Victar unconsciously rubbed his lucky charm—the silver-plated direwolf dagger at his waist.
Wooooooo—
Just as Victar was about to speak, a horn sounded abruptly from the mast.
Victar's expression changed. He looked toward Sweetsister and saw the beacon on the lighthouse was lit.
Commotion rippled through the crowd but quickly settled under the shouts of the Reefbreaker's captain.
Victar raised his voice. "I trust everyone knows why we are here."
"To kill the invading pirates," scattered voices responded. "We must go to Sweetsister, my lord."
"Hear me out." Victar raised his voice further.
"I promised you rewards far greater than any trade voyage, but I know there is still discontent in your hearts."
"Everyone knows hunting pirates is far more dangerous than trading. Even with Amos, Jick, and twenty other Black Mamba and Peach-mark swordsmen among us, the danger is extreme."
"We know!" someone in the crowd shouted.
"Soon we will face pirate blades and arrows. Those things kill." Victar spoke with brutal honesty.
"Before I left Braavos, Lord Arthur told me he is developing a sword exclusively for captains and apprentice captains, symbolizing status and glory."
Amos, putting on chainmail and vine armor with Jick's help, asked in surprise, "A sword? Like ours?"
"The Captain's Sword and Apprentice Captain's Sword do not require high swordsmanship, only the talent to command a ship—to be a captain, or have the potential to be one."
Victar drew the sword at his waist and shouted:
"Courage is the most basic quality of a captain. For the first three men to board an enemy ship in this battle, on behalf of Lord Arthur, I promise to grant them a Captain's Sword befitting their status, a generous reward, and a ship of their own!"
"Those who perform outstandingly in this operation, who take many heads, will receive Apprentice Captain's Swords in addition to their pay, and will be prioritized in future captain selections."
Victar finished. The crowd was silent for a split second, then erupted into impassioned shouts:
"I will be the first to board!"
"For the sword and the ship!"
"For Braavos!"
When the noise subsided slightly, Victar shouted again:
"Everyone knows these pirates are brutal. They cage captains and sell crews as slaves. But however vile they are, they are strong, experienced warriors. And those left guarding the ships are the elite among them."
At this point, Victar's aged body suddenly burst with imposing aura. His cloudy eyes turned bloodshot as he roared, almost screaming:
"Now, let us go and kill them all!"
"Kill them all!"
---
Guided by the Sistermen in the fleet, the five medium purple-sailed galleys navigated the reefs outside the cove one by one, advancing in a V-formation toward the lit beacon on Sweetsister.
Watching the lighthouse fire getting closer, Victar gripped his sword tightly. Beside him, his second son, Vickary, was helping him put on chainmail and armor.
Last time, this light guided me to a reef. Where will it guide me this time? To death?
Even if it is death, it's not so bad compared to the first time. At least my eldest son, Vickon, is in Braavos by Lord Arthur's side.
My third son, Vickett, has become a captain, charting the route to Pentos.
Looking at Vickary clumsily adjusting his armor, Victar felt a pang of guilt. He patted his son's head. "My foolish son, do you blame me for not leaving you in Braavos, but bringing you here to risk your life against pirates?"
"Father, why do you still pat my head at your age? This was my choice." Vickary pushed his father's hand away, looking serious.
"If you die in battle, I will pick up your sword and continue the fight."
"If you die in battle, I will sail your ship and take you home."
"If you die in battle, I will become a captain far greater than you!"
"If..."
Before Vickary could finish his "filial" vows, he received a sharp rap on the head from his father.
After sending his foolish son to relay orders, Victar glanced at the direwolf dagger at his waist and sighed. "Haven't held a sword in a long time. Hope I don't embarrass myself."
Victar exhaled deeply again, pushed open the door of the captain's quarters, and stepped out.
"Enemy ships sighted! Enemy ships dead ahead!" As soon as Victar reached the helm, he heard the lookout shouting from the mast.
"Three large ships, ten medium ships."
The sailor was named Ivey. He could see things very far away but had trouble seeing things up close. Victar had appointed him as his personal lookout upon discovering this unique ability.
"Any sign of White Harbor ships?" Victar asked from the helm. Vickary stood below the mast, relaying his father's voice to Ivey.
"No other ships sighted." Ivey reported from the mast. "Fires spotted on Sweetsister besides the lighthouse. Suspected pirate landing and arson!"
Victar looked toward Sweetsister. Perhaps due to the sea mist, he could only see the island's outline, but as Ivey said, there were fires other than the beacon.
And nothing else was visible.
"Do the pirate ships show signs of spotting us?" Victar asked while ordering the signalman to flag the following ships to maintain formation behind him.
"How are the ships arranged?"
"Ten medium ships are close to the island. Three large ships are behind them, further out. Most are facing White Harbor, a few facing us."
Ivey reported again from the mast. "No change since I first spotted them."
"Report immediately if other ships are spotted." Victar ordered his son, then turned to the signalman. "Signal the other ships to follow the Wavebreaker closely. Approach the three large ships. Three volleys of arrows, then board immediately!"
"Yes." The signalman waved the flags.
"Full speed ahead." Victar ordered the helmsman and the rowing master. "Take us in."
"But Captain, Ivey said the White Harbor ships haven't appeared. Are we just going in like this?" The helmsman stammered. "They have thirteen ships, three of them large."
"Who do you think I am? Are you questioning your captain?" Victar's usual amiability vanished, replaced by a stern, resolute determination.
"Take the ship in, damn it!"