Chapter 26: The Pirate Problem - Part 1
POV: Corwyn Darke
The harbor was beautiful in the morning light.
Fourteen months of construction had transformed Duskhollow Cove from a rocky fishing inlet into something that actually resembled a commercial port. The main dock stretched two hundred feet into deep water, capable of handling three large vessels simultaneously. Warehouses rose along the shore—stone foundations, timber frames, the architecture of commerce taking shape.
I stood on the nearly-completed watchtower, surveying progress through the System's overlay.
[ 🏗️ HARBOR STATUS ]
[ CONSTRUCTION: 78% COMPLETE ]
[ MAIN DOCK: OPERATIONAL ]
[ WAREHOUSES: 3/5 COMPLETE ]
[ LIGHTHOUSE: 60% COMPLETE ]
[ ESTIMATED COMPLETION: 8 WEEKS ]
"Supply ship incoming, my lord." Edric pointed toward the horizon, where a sail had emerged from the morning haze. "Velaryon colors."
"Right on schedule." I descended the tower stairs, heading for the dock where workers were already preparing to receive cargo.
The ship was still an hour out when the second sail appeared—then the third.
Smaller vessels. Moving fast. No colors visible.
[ ⚠️ THREAT DETECTED ]
[ UNIDENTIFIED VESSELS: 2 ]
[ APPROACH VECTOR: INTERCEPT COURSE ]
[ CLASSIFICATION: PROBABLE HOSTILE ]
My blood chilled. The Velaryon supply ship was heavy-laden, slow. The smaller vessels were closing rapidly, positioning themselves to cut off retreat.
"Pirates," I breathed. Then, louder: "SOUND THE ALARM!"
The warning bell clanged across the harbor. Workers dropped tools and scattered. Ser Gareth emerged from the construction office, sword already drawn.
"How many?"
"Two ships, probably thirty men total. They're going after the Velaryon cargo." I sprinted toward the dock, calculating desperately. "Get the fishing boats ready. Every armed man we can spare."
"We don't have a navy, my lord."
"Then we'll improvise one."
POV: Captain Thoros (Velaryon Supply Vessel)
Thoros had sailed these waters for twenty years.
He knew pirates when he saw them—the way they moved, the way they positioned, the predatory patience of wolves circling wounded prey. His ship, the Sea Daughter, was built for cargo, not combat. Twelve crew, minimal weapons, no chance against boarders.
"Two points to starboard!" his first mate shouted. "They're trying to pen us against the coast!"
"I see them." Thoros gripped the wheel, mind racing through options. Run? The Sea Daughter couldn't outpace those sleek hulls. Fight? Suicide. Surrender?
"Lord Velaryon's cargo. Lord Darke's supplies. If I lose them..."
Then he saw something unexpected.
From Duskhollow Cove, a cluster of small boats was emerging—fishing vessels mostly, but packed with armed men. They spread into a loose formation, moving to intercept the pirates.
"What in seven hells?"
The lead fishing boat flew a banner Thoros didn't recognize at first. Then it clicked: House Darke. The minor lord who'd built this harbor was actually sending... fishermen to fight pirates.
"He's either brilliant or mad."
The pirates saw the intervention and hesitated. Their target was suddenly defended—poorly, but defended. The calculation changed.
"They're breaking off!" the first mate called. "Heading for that cove to the north!"
Thoros watched the pirate ships veer away, abandoning their attack run. The fishing boats didn't pursue—they formed a protective escort around the Sea Daughter, guiding her safely into harbor.
Twenty minutes later, Thoros stood on the Duskhollow dock, facing a young lord who looked ready to murder someone.
"Are you injured?" Lord Darke asked.
"No. They broke off when your... boats... appeared."
"Good." The lord's expression hardened. "But they'll be back. They've found a den nearby—probably been scouting for weeks, waiting for valuable cargo."
"What will you do?"
"Hunt them."
POV: Corwyn Darke
The war council convened within the hour.
Ser Gareth spread maps across the table while I paced, converting rage into planning. The attack on a Velaryon ship—directly threatening my partnership, my economic foundation, everything I'd built—demanded immediate, overwhelming response.
[ 🗺️ TACTICAL ANALYSIS ]
[ PIRATE BASE: PROBABLE LOCATION ]
[ LIKELY POSITION: HIDDEN COVE (NORTH) ]
[ ENEMY STRENGTH: 30-40 FIGHTERS ]
[ VESSELS: 2 LIGHT RAIDERS ]
[ RECOMMENDED: NIGHT ASSAULT ]
"They're amateurs," Gareth assessed. "Real pirates wouldn't attack this close to a defended harbor. These are opportunists—probably former sailors turned raiders when legitimate work dried up."
"Amateurs with swords can still kill." I studied the map, identifying the cove where scouts had tracked the pirate vessels. "But they won't expect organized response. Minor lords don't have navies. They probably assumed we'd complain to the Crown and wait months for justice."
"What do you propose?"
"Night assault. Fifty soldiers, fishing boats for transport. Land before dawn, surround their camp, attack at first light." I tapped the cove's location. "They'll be drunk and sleeping, confident they escaped pursuit. We hit them before they realize danger."
Lord Rykker, newly arrived from his holdings, leaned forward. "My cavalry can't help on water. But if any escape by land, we can run them down."
"Good. Position your men on the inland approaches. No one escapes to warn others or seek revenge later."
[ ⚔️ OPERATION: PIRATE ELIMINATION ]
[ ASSAULT FORCE: 50 SOLDIERS ]
[ TRANSPORT: 8 FISHING VESSELS ]
[ SUPPORT: 15 CAVALRY (BLOCKING) ]
[ OBJECTIVE: TOTAL DESTRUCTION ]
POV: Ser Gareth Stone
The assault launched at midnight.
Eight fishing boats, packed with soldiers in dark clothing, slipped through calm waters toward the hidden cove. No torches, no talking—only the soft splash of oars and the whisper of wind in canvas. Gareth commanded the lead boat, Lord Corwyn in the second, their force distributed to prevent any single loss from crippling the operation.
The pirate camp came into view as they rounded the final headland—two ships beached on sand, tents scattered along the shore, a cookfire burning low. No sentries visible.
"Amateurs indeed."
Gareth raised his hand, signaling the boats to spread into landing formation. Soldiers checked weapons one final time, faces grim in the starlight.
The boats grounded on sand with soft thuds. Men spilled over the sides, wading silently through shallow water, forming up on the beach. Within minutes, fifty soldiers surrounded the sleeping camp in a ring of steel.
Lord Corwyn appeared at Gareth's side, sword drawn. "On your command."
"Wait for the light."
Dawn came slowly, gray washing across the eastern sky. The pirate camp stirred—someone emerging from a tent to relieve himself, another poking at the dead cookfire.
"NOW!"
The attack was brutal and brief. Soldiers surged from concealment, cutting down pirates who stumbled from tents half-awake and bewildered. Some tried to fight—they died on disciplined spears. Some tried to flee—they met the cordon of steel surrounding the camp.
Eighteen pirates fell in the first thirty seconds. The rest threw down weapons, screaming surrender.
[ ⚔️ COMBAT CONCLUDED ]
[ ENEMY CASUALTIES: 18 DEAD, 12 CAPTURED ]
[ FRIENDLY CASUALTIES: 2 WOUNDED (MINOR) ]
[ CARGO RECOVERED: 87% ]
[ PIRATE VESSELS: CAPTURED (2) ]
Gareth surveyed the carnage with professional satisfaction. Clean operation, minimal friendly losses, total enemy destruction. Exactly the kind of victory that built reputations.
"Secure the prisoners," Lord Corwyn ordered, wiping blood from his blade—he'd killed at least one pirate personally during the assault. "Bring me their leader."
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