"I know." Wylis stripped off his armor piece by piece until he stood in nothing but his tunic, trousers, and boots. He slung his greatsword across his back and gave a quick grin. "I swim well enough."
"But…"
Wylis didn't jump as he didn't want to make a splash just in case someone was using a far eye to see him. He instead returned to the docks and, from there, lowered himself into the waters.
"Go set the Maidenpool's cog of fire." He ordered the man before swimming away into open waters.
He swam on his back most of the way, conserving his energy. That also gave him a grand view of the ship burning at the port.
####
Salladhor Saan liked to call himself the Prince of the Narrow Sea.
Why not? After all, he had the name and the fame, all of it. Even his lineage was something of a legend, as his ancestors had been pirate lords for centuries, even one of the Ninepenny Kings.
Now, he too was carving a name for himself. He was a smuggler, trader, banker, sellsail, and a pirate most of all. In his trade, the more notoriety you have, the better. Even now, when he received the offer to raid Maidenpool, it was too good to refuse, albeit risky.
After this raid, he knew his name would reach every noble house of Westeros and beyond, raising his status higher amongst those of his own trade. Truth be told, he was getting old, and he wanted to carve a name for himself as soon as possible.
"Why are they burning the ships?" Salladhor frowned; his commonly friendly, black-humor-streaked personality vanished. "I ordered the boys to take every last one for me."
Salladhor stood by the edge of his ship's deck, watching the great fire in the distance.
"Get me the far eye!" He eyed the port. "It is not our brave lads setting those ships alight."
"Burning them so we can't have them?" pondered one of Salladhor's captains.
"Wrong!"
Thud!
All of a sudden, a loud creak of wood and a wet splash resonated from nearby. Salladhor turned around quickly to look and… frowned. The men around him, his two mighty captains, his closest aids, promptly unsheathed their curved blades.
"Oh, my radiant goddess! Look what treasure we bring aboard, eh? A monster, I say, a monster!" Salladhor laughed. "And who might you be, my friend? So tall, so mighty, clearly the gods kissed you twice."
Scrrrrr!
As joking and calm as Salladhor was, he wasn't blind to danger. He saw and heard the mighty man bare his massive sword. It was hard to see his face as the man was drenched in water, and his damp hair covered half of his face. But he noticed the beauty; the man was kissed by every god out there, and that was a major hint.
"Now, now, my friend, why spill blood when a few clever words fill our purses better, eh? It's already a fine day for me, and I can make it a fine one for you as wel—"
Woosh!
Clank!
Salladhor jumped back and let his two mighty captains take the lead with their blades and protect him. His two captains were no simple men; they were both nearing seven feet in height. He'd raised them from the fighting pits of Slaver's Bay since they were young boys. Now they were mighty, and his shields.
Clash!
Good gods!
Salladhor watched in absolute horror. What was this man? How was he so bloody fast and agile? The sword was longer than his height, and yet the man moved it around like it was a little twig.
Rys and Kys, he watched two of his strongest swords reduced to mere children waving blades. The two men had absolutely perfect coordination. When one swung at the attacker's head, the other aimed for the legs, leaving no space for a counter.
Clank!
Yet, the tall Westerosi beast used his single sword to plant it straight on the deck, blocking the trajectory of both incoming slashes. He jumped, he ducked, he rolled around, used kicks, punches, headbutts, and dominated the entire battle.
"Go! Help them!"
Salladhor ordered the other sailors. However, right before his eyes, he watched those sailors get sliced into bits. Some were cleaved entirely from their waists, some beheaded, some lost legs, and they were lucky. That made it clear, the man was showing mercy to Rys and Kys by not killing them.
"You're Lord Wylis Kaiser, aren't you?"
Oh! That smile… I've seen that before.
"Aye, I am. What of it?"
Salladhor already knew that this Westerosi warrior wanted something from him. That smile, that confidence, that smugness, it suited the famed greatest warrior in Westeros. He'd heard plenty of tales about the man, and face to face, he saw the truth of them.
"Lord Wylis, why spill a drop more blood? I'm a reasonable man, you know. Maidenpool is already taken, and I have gathered most of the treasures worth the trouble. You came on the Crown's errand, yes? To bring House Mooton to heel? I was hired for the very same task by the steward of Maidenpool. So take your share, my lord, and let us both leave richer than we came."
"Haaaa!"
Thud!
Salladhor watched his two warriors get thrown on their asses. The northern lord then stood straight and swung his blade, splattering the blood everywhere.
"Treasure? Hah. The treasure I seek sits in your hands, pirate."
Something told Salladhor that he'd hate asking his question.
"Which is?"
"This! All of this!"
The northern warrior raised his arms wide in both directions.
"I want every bloody ship you command. Yours and Maidenpool's. All of them. Hand them over."
"..."
Salladhor was speechless. He'd seen confident, overconfident, and audacious men in his life, too many to count. It was rare to see a madman like this one.
"You? All by yourself?" Salladhor glanced aside, catching something in the corner of his eye as he tried to stall. "You truly think my brave sailors will lay down their swords just because you happen to catch me?"
"Capture? I'm here to kill you, pirate scum."
"My sweet Westerosi friends, always so full of noble pride and duty and all that glittering nonsense. Tell me, have you ever wondered why, after thousands of years here, not a single one of your great houses has claimed anything across the sea? Pride, my friend. It chains you tighter than any anchor. And today, you too will learn that lesson… do it!"
Scrrrrrrr!
A metallic scrape echoed.
"Fuck!"
That was the last word Salladhor heard from the Westerosi lord before he vanished down into the sea with a loud splash, sinking instantly.
"Hah! I didn't get here playing your honor games. I'm done with this raid, signal the men to return."
As soon as Salladhor commanded, his men used colorful smoke to signal. In mere moments, countless more fires erupted all across Maidenpool, enough that even during daylight, they could see the flames.
####
Splash!
Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!
Wylis was cursing nonstop.
He'd been too overconfident and now paid for it as he found himself drowning further and further down into the sea, pulled by the heavy weight of the iron anchor tied around his ankle by a metal chain.
The water had already turned darker around him, and he could feel the pressure building around. He yanked his legs, reached down to free his leg, but as soon as he felt the metal chain, he cursed.
My greedy fucking ass!
He had played it safe and didn't kill those almost seven-foot-tall men. He wanted to disarm them and capture them, and hopefully turn them to serve him with some brainwashing skill he'd buy. It was hard to find big, tall men like them, and ones who knew how to swing a blade were even more rare.
But in all that, he had failed to notice a midget sneak behind him and lock his ankle with a metal shackle. He didn't know if there was a lock or not; he reckoned there wasn't. But he couldn't see anything, and the damn thing was pulling him down.
Thankfully, he'd already purchased diving mastery for treasure hunting. He didn't panic and saved his breath. Moreover, his body was built differently thanks to all the strength boosts he received from bedding the gorgeous women who chose to live with him.
I hate water!
He cursed, still, wanting to reach the seabed quickly so he could free himself and swim up again. This time, however, he wanted to kill the fucking pirate. No more mercy. He'd kill them all on sight.
Kill on sight, that's what a Tyrant would've done. Ugh… I should stop overthinking things.
It was pitch black darkness around him. Holding in the air got harder for him as the pressure around him tried to squeeze him. But he held on. That part of the sea wasn't that deep since it was still in coastal waters.
Finally!
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