After claiming leadership by force, Logar followed Stepstones pirate tradition and immediately took stock of everything the previous captain had left behind.
With Femon's help, he stepped into the captain's tent and began going through the so-called inheritance.
What he found made his jaw tighten. This crew was even poorer than he had imagined.
The island they controlled was nearly worthless — thin soil that barely grew weeds, and a location far inferior to the more valuable islands like Bloodstone and Grey Gallows. It held almost no strategic importance.
Worse, they had no allies. All their daily supplies came from trading with other pirate groups or raiding merchant ships that passed through.
The relentless Dornish attacks had already pushed them to the brink.
The old captain had even sent most of their remaining wealth to the Triarchy forces stationed on Bloodstone, begging for military aid. In return, he received nothing — not even a reply.
"Seven fucking hells," Logar growled, slamming his hand on the table when he learned the old man had left behind only fifteen silver stags. "I've never seen a pirate captain this broke."
His own battered half-suit of Myrish chainmail and the nicked longsword were worth far more than this pathetic hoard.
They were already on the edge of ruin. The old captain's death had simply passed the disaster on to him.
Femon stood beside him and delivered the grim report in a low voice:
"After the battle with the Dornish, we're down to eighty-six men. Only two ships are still seaworthy. Adding the one we captured from them gives us three. The shipwright died in the fighting. We'll need to find a replacement soon."
The more Femon spoke, the heavier Logar's expression became.
Their remaining food and fresh water would barely last three days. Without the supplies they'd seized from the Dornish, they would already be finished.
Logar took a deep breath and forced himself to think clearly.
The priority was simple: he had to secure food and water for everyone, or the bold promises he made when he took command would turn to ash.
These men were the first crew he had built since crossing into this world. He couldn't let them scatter.
For pirates, the fastest way to solve a crisis was always the same.
Plunder.
A sharp light flashed in Logar's eyes. He looked at the worried Femon and said firmly:
"Gather everyone in the center of the camp. I have a plan to fix this."
Femon's face immediately brightened. He had seen Logar's meteoric rise — from unknown youth to the man who cut the Dornish commander's throat and seized power. He believed in him completely.
Soon, the pirates gathered in the clearing. They were exhausted from the day's savage fighting. Many wore bloody bandages on their arms and shoulders. Hungry stomachs growled loudly in the quiet air.
If not for Logar's display of dominance earlier, the camp might have already fallen into chaos.
Logar ordered a large bonfire lit in front of the main tent. The dancing flames illuminated their tired, gaunt faces. He stepped forward, one hand resting casually on his sword hilt, and spoke directly:
"Everyone, I called you here as your captain for one reason — our food and water will only last three more days."
The words had barely left his mouth when angry muttering exploded across the crowd.
Some men jumped up, hands on their weapons. Others cursed and kicked stones. A few simply hung their heads in despair, knowing that running out of supplies on this barren rock meant a slow death.
Femon stood tensely at Logar's side, palms sweating.
"But I, Logar, have never been the type to sit and wait for death!"
His voice suddenly cut through the noise like a blade, strong and ringing. His purple eyes gleamed with feral intensity in the firelight.
"We are pirates! We are the cutthroats who rule the Narrow Sea! Are we really going to starve like dogs on this worthless rock?!"
"No!"
The shout started with one man and quickly became a roar. Dozens of hoarse voices joined, filled with desperate resolve.
They were pirates. When supplies ran out, there was only one answer.
Seeing the hunger and fire returning to their eyes, Logar continued:
"Exactly. We will not sit and die. As your captain, I give you my word — I will make sure every single one of you eats well, dresses well, and loads your ships with rich plunder!"
"Logar the Throat-Cutter!"
"Logar the Throat-Cutter!"
The cheers erupted again, louder and fiercer than before.
An old, battle-scarred pirate with a thick beard called out from the crowd:
"Captain, where are we raiding?"
The question silenced everyone. All eyes locked on Logar.
"Our target," Logar declared, eyes blazing, "is the Dornish!"
The pirates looked stunned. The Dornish were considered one of the hardest targets in the Stepstones — well-armed and backed by the full might of Dorne.
But that also meant their outposts were rich with supplies.
"They just took a beating from us today," Logar pressed on. "Right now they're holed up in their stronghold, licking their wounds. Reinforcements from mainland Dorne will take time to arrive. This is our best chance to strike!"
The old pirate raised the obvious concern: "Their outpost has hundreds of men — two or three times our number. Even after today's defeat, we're still badly outnumbered."
"Who said we're attacking alone?" Logar gave a cold, confident smile, gazing toward the dark silhouettes of nearby islands.
"I've already sent men to contact the other pirate crews in the area. They're just as poor and just as sick of the Dornish as we are.
Once we break open their stronghold and they smell the loot… they'll swarm in like sharks smelling blood."
The pirates murmured in approval, clearly impressed by the bold and clever plan.
Seeing their reaction, Logar nodded to two men. They brought out the last remaining food and water in the entire camp.
"This is everything we have left. Tonight, we feast. Eat until you're full, rest well — because before dawn, we sail out and hit the Dornish hard!"
The men roared with renewed energy. Their morale surged as they smelled hot food and the promise of battle and riches.
Logar watched them closely. If they could carry this fire and hunger into the pre-dawn raid, their chances of victory would be far greater.
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