19.
The Big Score (Part 1) 25: Chapter 19.
The Big Score (Part 1) 252 AC.
Tyrosh.
Irat Rexarion.
“I thought the Blackfyre estate was on the other side,” Ammis said, looking around.
“And this is the port.” I sighed heavily and glanced sideways at him.
The next moment, Magok slapped him on the back of the head.
He immediately clutched the injured area, which drew laughter from his older comrades.
I watched all this with mixed feelings.
I was surprised by how easily they agreed to my desire to rob the Blackfyres.
And this in a city completely under their control.
An idea bordering on madness.
But nevertheless, everyone eagerly agreed to my plan.
Of course, it worked to our advantage that no one knew about our desertion yet.
No one even suspected it.
Which, in turn, allowed us to move around the city without hiding.
At least until we started making noise, which was sure to happen the moment we broke into Blackfyre territory.
“And how are you planning on leaving the city, smart guy?” Ross asked, grinning.
“What’s the plan, Commander?” For the first time, there was so much passion in the voice of this experienced warrior.
Without replying, I signaled for silence.
I scanned the entire port area and the nearby ships, searching for a suitable one.
But it seemed luck wasn’t always on my side, as upon closer inspection, the required vessel wasn’t to be found.
Then I decided to give my subordinates instructions.
“We need a ship,” I said, drawing their attention to the obvious.
“A small one.
I’d even say a tiny one.
The more inconspicuous, the better.
So split into pairs and search the port.
You have ten minutes, then meet back here.” I walked over to a nearby crate and sat down, preparing to wait.
“And what will you be doing, Commander?” Beric asked with a hint of envy.
“What a commander is supposed to do,” I said calmly, meeting his eyes.
“And what you apparently don’t know how to do, judging by such stupid questions.
Think, Beric.
Think.” Laughter came from the other fighters who’d overheard.
They were getting too bold, no doubt fueled by adrenaline.
“What are you standing around for, idiots?” I said louder, in my command voice.
“Time’s already ticking.
Move!” In a few moments, they’d all disappeared.
It seemed I needed to be stricter with them if they only became obedient when I raised my voice.
Settling in comfortably, I pulled out my knife and began spinning it meditatively.
Left alone, I finally had a chance to think.
My original plan of quietly slipping out of the city by paying off a captain to take me to the mainland needed revision.
Now I had a company of loyal men with me, which increased both our options and my responsibility for their lives.
The question of money was pressing.
Our combined savings wouldn’t last long.
How long the Blackfyre estate’s loot would sustain us was another matter.
It all depended on what we found and how much.
Realistically, I doubted we could carry much away, even with my powers.
It could even turn out that these Targaryen bastards had nothing worth taking.
“Pointless to speculate,” I muttered, tossing the knife and making it hover for a moment.
Our path forward would depend entirely on what we gained.
But something inside me suggested my journey should lead toward lands near Valyria.
Time would tell how things played out.
The ten minutes passed quickly.
I was still sitting on the crate, spinning the knife and creating various gravity vectors, when Ross and John returned.
The big man shook his head silently in response to my look, indicating they’d found nothing suitable.
The others trickled back soon after.
“So, find anything?” I asked, continuing to spin the knife.
“Nothing,” Ross spat in frustration.
“Just galleys and cogs.” “And if things keep going this way,” Beric continued, “we’ll have to sail on a skiff.
And that’s certain death if we go out into open sea.” The news wasn’t good.
The lack of small vessels complicated matters considerably.
The skiff Beric mentioned could have been a good option, if not for its sole advantage being its tiny size, which was also its main drawback.
It was a simple fishing boat, suitable for five or six people at most.
One strong wave in open sea would capsize us instantly.
“Um, Commander,” came Ammis’s uncertain voice.
“What now?” I asked irritably.
“Magok and I saw a cog,” the boy said hesitantly.
Silence lasted exactly one second, then everyone’s faces relaxed into satisfied grins.
Only Beric, as usual, couldn’t keep quiet.
“Why didn’t you say anything?” he asked.
That earned him a sideways, slightly ironic look from the Summer Islander that seemed to say, “Are you serious?” Judging by Beric’s embarrassed expression, he realized how stupid his question was.
“Lead the way,” I ordered, hopping off the crate and putting away my knife.
It didn’t take long to reach the cog, maybe five minutes.
We found ourselves before a single-masted vessel with high sides.
The ship was a little over fifteen meters long.
“Perfect,” I said approvingly, then gave the order.
“Find the crew.” While the fighters, except for Ross, rushed to the ship, I gave the vessel another critical look.
It was likely a trading cog, which meant it could handle a long voyage.
“Let’s go,” I said to the silent big man.
“They’ve probably roused the crew by now.” Boarding the ship, Ross and I found the squad kicking a dozen half-naked men.
The more stubborn ones had swords at their throats.
The crew looked sleepy and confused.
Some didn’t even need to understand, reeking so strongly of booze that you could smell them from several meters away.
As we appeared on deck, all eyes turned to us.
“Who’s the captain?” I asked immediately.
At that moment, a crash sounded.
Looking over, I saw Magok dragging a struggling, portly man across the deck.
Upon closer inspection, the man had a fresh black eye forming.
“You’ll regret this, you bastard!” the man shrieked.
“Let me go, you…” At the last words, Magok dropped him next to the other crew members, having first kicked him in the solar plexus.
“I’ll ask again,” I said, drawing attention.
“Who’s the captain?” After a moment’s hesitation, the entire crew pointed as one at the man doubled over on the deck.
He was trying desperately to breathe, opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of water.
It might have been amusing, but time was short.
Annoyed, I looked at Magok with disapproval.
He looked away sheepishly.
By then, the captain was starting to come around.
After taking a few breaths, he began slowly rising.
“I’ll remember you, Summer Islander,” he rasped through gritted teeth.
“You’ll pay for…” “Shut up,” I ordered, drawing his attention.
“We need to get to the mainland.
Take us there, and you and your crew will be considerably richer.” “Go to hell, brat,” he said rudely, ignoring my offer, and turned back to Magok.
“You’re going to…” He didn’t finish.
His head rolled across the deck, leaving a bloody trail.
I exhaled and sheathed my sword.
“I don’t like rudeness,” I said calmly, then pointed at the fresh corpse.
“Overboard.” Ammis and Beric quickly grabbed the body by its arms and legs and carried it off.
I watched the rest of the crew carefully.
Their surprise had turned to fear.
“You’re the captain now,” I said, pointing at the first sailor I saw.
“You heard my terms.
What’s your answer, ‘Captain’?” The bald man, who’d unexpectedly become captain, exchanged glances with his comrades.
The sailors played a brief game of stare-down before giving their answer.
“We agree, my lord,” the new captain said quietly and deferentially.
“Shall I prepare the ship to sail?” “I like your attitude.
No wonder you’re captain now,” I grinned.
“Get ready.
My men will supervise.” Given permission, they immediately set to work, leaving me alone with my subordinates.
“Now listen up,” I said, drawing their attention.
“Rob, Beric, and Ammis stay on the ship and make sure these sailors don’t do anything stupid.” They nodded seriously.
“Ross and Magok are coming with me to the estate,” I continued, getting more nods.
“And me, Commander?” John asked, sounding a bit lost.
His dejected expression was quite telling.
He clearly thought I was leaving him out because of his injury.
Smiling to myself, I tossed him a pouch of coins, which he caught clumsily with his left hand.
“Take someone from the crew,” I began explaining his task.
“Go to the nearest inn.
Stock up on provisions.
We’ve got a long journey ahead.
Try to be back before we return.” Finally given a task, the cripple headed for the crew members without a word.
“We should go too,” I said, adjusting the sword at my belt.
“Rob, you’re in charge.”