The battle raged from dawn until dusk, until the setting sun painted the sea blood-red.
Allied casualties kept climbing. Ser Maron Gargalen urged a pause for the night and a full-scale assault at first light — one final push that would surely crack the pirate base.
Sharako Lohar was furious but finally agreed. He ordered the retreat back to the ships to rest and regroup.
Logar's side had suffered heavily too. After a full day of nonstop fighting, their stored arrows and stones were almost gone. Every man was wounded.
Even Logar had taken a grazing arrow across the shoulder, now crudely wrapped in linen.
They had prepared well and held the high ground, but against the enemy's overwhelming numbers they were slowly being ground down.
Inside the camp the water and food stores were still decent, but if they kept trading blows like this, defeat was inevitable.
The defenders stared at the hundreds of enemy lanterns glowing across the harbor. No sign of the Velaryon fleet. Faces grew grim.
Yet as night fell, Logar gathered Femon, Kendel, Alyn, and the rest of his inner circle.
"The enemy will throw everything at us tomorrow," he said. "We can't just sit here and wait to die. Tonight is our last chance!"
"What's the plan, Captain?" Femon asked, fresh cuts still bleeding on his face, eyes bright with excitement.
"Tonight the enemy will be careless, thinking we're too scared to leave the walls," Logar said. "We hit them hard and fast — create chaos!"
He turned to Kendel. "Their ships are all packed together in the harbor. I'll lead a raiding party ashore to stir up hell and draw their eyes.
Once the harbor is in uproar, your job with Femon is to take our ships and block the harbor mouth. Not one enemy vessel gets out.
The fire ships are hidden nearby — the enemy has no idea what we prepared for them. Alyn, you know the waters best. Get those fire ships into position without being seen. Can you do it?"
After several days together, Alyn had grown used to Logar's decisive, trusting style.
To be handed such a critical task at the decisive moment filled him with pride. He slapped his chest. "I will not fail you, Captain!"
Seeing the fierce resolve in every man's eyes, Logar stepped outside, pinched a lock of silver hair, and tested the night wind.
The southeast wind he had waited days for had finally arrived.
...
At owl's hour, moonlight rippled across the dark sea.
Ser Maron Gargalen lay in his armor inside the cabin, unable to sleep.
Outside, waves lapped the hull, mixed with the snores and groans of exhausted soldiers.
As a disciplined noble commander, Maron knew the pirates were on their last legs, yet a nagging unease gnawed at him. He couldn't put his finger on why.
"Could the enemy try to slip away tonight?"
After tossing and turning, he finally rose, stepped onto the deck, and stared toward the pirate camp. The watchtowers glowed with torches; occasional shadows moved along the walls — exactly as they had during the day.
Still uneasy, he took a few trusted men and set out to scout the fortifications himself.
At that exact moment, Logar and his raiders slipped out of the camp under cover of darkness, crawling silently toward the enemy's forward pickets.
The two Triarchy sentries on duty were bone-tired after a full day of fighting and a long night watch. Their eyelids drooped.
Logar's men ghosted up behind them. Blades flashed. Two throats were opened without a sound. The bodies slumped to the ground.
With the outer sentries gone, Logar looked toward the harbor. Most Dornish and Triarchy soldiers were asleep. Only a handful of ships still showed lanterns.
"This battle's outcome depends on tonight," Logar whispered to his men, eyes gleaming. "Remember — our job is chaos. Then we seize ships and draw every eye!"
"Understood!" the raiders growled low.
"Move!"
Logar wasted no more words. Sword in hand, he charged.
"Huh… who are y—"
A Triarchy soldier near the beach never finished the sentence. Logar's blade split his skull. The head flew into the surf trailing blood.
"ENEMY ATTACK!!!"
Ser Maron Gargalen, out scouting, witnessed the slaughter. He didn't hesitate — he roared the alarm at the top of his lungs.
The cry shattered the night. The beach exploded into chaos.
Soldiers scrambled for weapons and leaped from ships to fight. The entire harbor turned into pandemonium.
"What the fuck is all that noise at this hour?"
On the grandest ship at the front of the harbor, Sharako Lohar had been sleeping with a dancer in his arms. The uproar shattered his dream.
"Bad news, my lord! The Throat-Cutter is attacking!" his second, Chaman, burst in half-armored and frantic.
Sharako's eyes flew wide. "These pirate scum really don't know when to die! I was going to finish them tomorrow, but if they're so eager to die tonight — bring me my weapons! I'll butcher every last one myself!"
As Sharako rose to fight, the surprised Dornish and Triarchy forces finally reacted and began a furious counterattack.
In the darkness Logar had his men form a loose defensive circle. Spears thrust out like a hedgehog, impaling the first enemies who charged off the ships.
Logar fought at the very front, cutting down a shield-bearing Dornish soldier with one stroke. When he saw the entire harbor now swarming with alerted enemy troops, he bellowed:
"Keep moving! Don't stop!"
At that moment a knight in earth-yellow armor charged in from the flank, sword flashing with deadly precision.
"Throat-Cutter! I've waited for this day!" Ser Maron Gargalen snarled through gritted teeth.
Logar parried cleanly, steel ringing. He gave a cold laugh. "Plenty of men want my head. What makes you special?"
More and more enemies poured off the ships. Logar had no time to duel.
"All men — with me! Seize the ships and break out!" he roared.
"Kill!"
The pirates, suppressed all day, finally unleashed their pent-up fury. They charged the small oar-boats beached nearby, captured several, and rowed hard toward the harbor mouth.
"They're trying to escape?" Maron Gargalen blinked, then sneered. "Fools! The whole sea belongs to us. Where can they run?"
Relieved, he ordered his men aboard and led the pursuit himself.
"Hahaha! So the pirates couldn't wait to die!" Sharako Lohar laughed wildly from Bloodfang. "Turn the fleet! Ram their boats to splinters!"
In an instant every ship in the harbor began to move, converging on Logar's small raiding vessels.
But the harbor was narrow. Dozens of large warships trying to turn at once created a hopeless traffic jam.
At the same moment, four or five small boats covered in black sailcloth slipped out from the side cove. Alyn led them, gliding silently toward the crowded mouth of the harbor.
"Enemy reinforcements?" Maron Gargalen frowned, sensing something wrong.
On Bloodfang, Sharako Lohar didn't care. His nose flushed with excitement. "Hahaha, perfect timing! Ram them!"
Maron Gargalen stared at Logar standing on the prow of the lead small boat. Something about the entire night felt deeply wrong.
The next second he watched Logar take a bow from one of his men, touch the arrowhead wrapped in white cloth to a torch until it flared, and draw the string.
The wind across the harbor was rising fast.
Maron's eyes widened in sudden horror. "No! Stop him!"
Too late.
Logar stood tall on the prow, bow drawn to full tension. The flaming arrow streaked across the night with a cold, ringing shout that carried over the water:
"BURN!"