Loga couldn't help but feel a pang of distress as he watched his men devour the last of the camp's rations and wine.
These were all the fresh water and dry rations they had left. Once this meal was finished, they would be completely out of food by tomorrow. This raid was undoubtedly a last stand!
Thinking of this, Loga's expression grew increasingly solemn. He ordered in a low voice, "Everyone, hurry up and rest to gather your strength! We set out at dawn sharp to catch the Dornishmen off guard!"
In the early hours, the Narrow Sea was shrouded in a gray, thick fog, as dense as unthinnable ink. It wrapped the ships tightly, making even the rams at the bows difficult to see.
The waves lapped against the hull, making a dull sound that perfectly masked the noise of the wooden oars slicing through the water.
Loga led three ships toward the largest of The Stepstones, Gray Gallows Island. At that moment, the commander of the Dornish outpost on the island was sleeping soundly with two prostitutes in his arms, drool hanging from the corner of his mouth.
Yesterday's crushing defeat by the pirates had left the Dornish morale low. Combined with the dwindling supplies on the island, the soldiers were all homesick, and their defenses had slackened considerably.
There were only a few sentries on the watchtowers, dozing off while clutching their spears, failing to notice the ships in the distant fog.
In their eyes, only the Third Daughter Kingdom in all of The Stepstones could rival them. Aside from the Third Daughter Kingdom, no one dared to provoke them.
Before dawn, as the sea was a vast expanse of hazy white, Loga's three rowboats had already silently run aground on the shallows of Gray Gallows Island.
In the mist behind them, several small pirate ships were faintly visible, not daring to get too close. These were small groups of pirates attracted by the "Predatory Feast," waiting like hyenas to pick up the scraps.
If Loga and his men succeeded, this crowd would swarm in to get a share; if they failed, they would naturally flee faster than anyone.
Loga ignored these opportunists. He understood that to win this battle, he had to rely on himself!
"Everyone!" Clad in a half-set of chainmail and holding a longsword, Loga stood at the bow, the mist dampening his silver hair. "Just as I expected, the Dornishmen are sleeping like dead pigs. They never imagined we would come knocking on their door!"
Then, he raised his voice, his words ringing with conviction: "Of the spoils from this raid, I as the leader will only take twenty percent. The rest belongs entirely to you!"
These words instantly ignited the pirates' fanaticism. They let out low, guttural roars, the veins on their hands bulging as they gripped their weapons, their desire for battle already uncontrollable.
"Charge!"
As soon as the ships touched the shore, Loga was the first to leap into the shallows, the icy seawater reaching his ankles. The watchtower was close at hand; just as the sentries above rubbed their eyes and realized what was happening, Loga had already led the pirates in a charge.
"Swish, swish, swish—"
A scattered rain of arrows came flying. The Dornishmen had hastily notched their arrows, which flew haphazardly, most of them thudding into the dirt.
"Enemy raid! Enemy raid!" a sentry shrieked at the top of his lungs, his voice filled with panic.
The moment the pirates broke through the watchtower, the Dornishmen on Gray Gallows Island were completely stunned. They were always the ones bullying pirates; when had they ever seen these pirate dregs dare to initiate an attack on their doorstep?
"Damned pirates! I'll feed you all to the fish!"
The Dornish commander jolted awake from the prostitutes, cursing in a towering rage. He hastily threw on his armor, not even tying the straps properly, and rushed out clutching a scimitar.
By this time, Loga had already led the pirates through the outer perimeter of the Dornish outpost.
Most of the Dornishmen were still in their dreams. Some were cut down the moment they stepped out of their tents, while others ran out wearing only undergarments, only to be slaughtered like pigs and dogs by the pirates. Blood instantly stained the camp red.
Seeing the watchtower ablaze and the camp's defensive lines torn open, the small groups of pirates in the fog immediately rushed over like man-eating sharks smelling blood.
They roared as they charged into the camp, giving full vent to their greedy and bloodthirsty pirate nature as they joined the slaughterous feast, frantically snatching everything they could carry.
As more pirates joined, the already weakly defended Dornish camp completely collapsed. Loga, with Fermon and his other confidants leading the way, charged into the depths of the camp.
A Dornish pikeman thrust his spear forward. Loga sidestepped it, flipped his wrist, and slid his longsword up the shaft, piercing the man's throat. Blood sprayed onto his face along the blade.
In the depths of the camp, besides the frantically resisting Dornishmen, there were also slaves captured by them. They huddled in corners, trembling as they watched Loga and his men cut down the Dornish soldiers, their eyes filled with terror for fear of becoming the next targets.
"Pirate scum! You're seeking your own death!"
The Dornish commander charged forward with his personal guards, his scimitar pointed at Loga, eyes full of killing intent. Loga had his men form a loose circular formation to withstand the Dornish counterattack, while he himself strode toward the commander with the agile steps of a leopard.
*Clang!*
Blades clashed, sparks flying. The Dornish commander's pupils shrank in shock at Loga's strength. Despite the opponent's youth, his strength was greater than his own, a veteran of many battles, leaving the web of his thumb numb from the vibration. Daring not to clash head-on again, he waved his guards forward to intercept.
Two Dornish guards swung their swords at Loga. He raised his left arm, taking a blow on his chainmail, while simultaneously sweeping his longsword to slit one man's throat.
The other took the opportunity to slash at his back. With a *clang*, the scimitar struck the chainmail, making Loga's back go numb. The iron rings dented inward but didn't break the skin. He spun around quickly and thrust his longsword straight into the man's heart, clean and efficient.
"Ugh—"
The blade was lethal, sealing the throat with blood. Loga's eyes turned red with battle lust, his face and body splattered with blood, looking like a god of slaughter descended to earth. More guards lunged at him, only to be cut down one by one, their bodies piling at his feet.
Finally, seeing all his guards fallen, the Dornish commander's legs went weak. He wet his pants in fear and collapsed to his knees, begging repeatedly, "Mercy! I'm willing to offer all my treasures!"
Loga's eyes were cold, completely ignoring the pleas as he stepped forward and pierced the man's heart. Following custom, he cut off the commander's head and tossed it to Fermon: "Throw it out. Tell the remaining Dornishmen to surrender."
The Dornish outpost was now a mess, with bodies piled up and blood flowing like a river. Besides Loga and his men, only the unarmed slaves remained, shivering in fear.
Loga ignored these slaves and let his men loot as they pleased, while he himself walked toward the most magnificent tent, where the leader's treasures were hidden.
"My Lord! Tell your men not to kill me! I am willing to follow you!"
On the way, a man imprisoned in an iron cage saw Loga passing by. Instead of cowering like the other slaves, he seized the chance to call for help.
Loga frowned, initially not wanting to bother, but the man hurriedly said, "I am from Driftmark, the best Shipwright! I can repair and build ships; I will be useful to you!"
From Driftmark?
Loga paused and thought for a moment. He stepped forward, cut the man's shackles with his longsword, picked up a long axe from a nearby Dornish corpse, and tossed it to him: "Take the weapon and follow me. Don't fall behind."
Entering the inner tent, the sounds of killing outside were instantly muffled. The tent was laid with luxurious carpets, and on a large bed, two prostitutes huddled together, trembling with pale faces.
A wooden chest by the bed stood open, filled with gold and silver jewelry, gemstone necklaces, and bags of silver stags. The glittering light of the treasures was dazzling.
This scene took the breath away from the few pirates who followed him in, and even Loga was slightly moved.
Heaven be praised, after being poor for so long, he was finally about to become filthy rich!
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