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Ch 63 Pirate King Part 2
🕑 Added 2024-05-14 13:27:06 +0000 UTCThe second that Obara's horse kicked off towards him, Jon was on his feet with his sword in his hand.
But even though he could, with his reaction speed, Jon decided neither to use his sword to kill the horse nor to roll out of the way and dodge. Instead what he did was just simply look into the eyes of the horse with an intense expression.
"Die! You Cunt—Argh!" At the last moment, just before she was about to skewer the unmoving arrogant Northerner in front of her, Obara's horse betrayed her and jerked to an abrupt halt, flinging her off of it, and sending her flying straight into the ground.
"Ugh!!" Everything hurt for the woman, she felt as if she had fallen from a two-story building straight onto a rocky floor. There was a constant ringing in her ear and she couldn't even muster any strength in her arms to get up.
But thankfully, she could feel that nothing had been broken and she also didn't get stabbed with her own spear as he had thrown it away at the last moment... Now, she just needs to gather her bearings and somehow get up before...
"Bind her, Sam," Jon calmly ordered his friend, while coming to stand over the stunned and disoriented Dornishwomen with his sword pointed at her shocked father.
While keeping his eyes on Oberyn, Jon warmly patted the head of Obara's horse in praise before sending it to join their own horses behind him.
"Y-Yes!" Sam replied after a few seconds and ran over with a rope in his hands to tie the slowly coming about Dornishwoman.
The second he came out of his shock, Oberyn's first impulse was to immediately attack the Northerner to save his daughter... but he managed to stop himself at the last moment as he didn't want to go the same way as his daughter.
He didn't know how the boy managed to stop a war horse, that had been specifically trained not to hesitate even at the sign of a sword... but he did not want to take any risk so he immediately jumped off of his own horse.
"You know this would make it the second time that I have taken a daughter of yours hostage," Jon commented idly while moving away from Obara after Sam had finished binding her, "You should really teach them a little more patience..."
"Don't worry, boy. I intend to do the very same thing when we get home," Oberyn replied nonchalantly while ever so slowly circling around and making the Northerner move away from Obara.
"But you really don't need to be this tense, you know, as I am not going to hold your daughter's life against you... because from the very beginning, all I have been asking from you was for us to have a talk..."
"Well, then... Talk!"
"Uh-Uh, not like that," Jon said while shaking his head, "First you need to put down your spear and take a seat—"
"You want me to willingly give up my own weapon in a situation such as this?" he asked incredulously while looking at Jon as if he were a fool, "Are you out of your mind?"
"Well, we won't be able to have a constructive talk if you have your weapon with you... because then your mind will constantly be on the many different ways that you can kill me and save your daughter... which would make it all fruitless..."
While speaking, Jon had slowly begun moving his feet towards his luggage that was placed beside his rock seat.
He knew that it would be very messy if both of them got into a melee fight, and it would be hard for them to stop without one of them dying or getting seriously injured, and Jon didn't desire that... so he wanted to switch to his primary weapon so that he could conclude the fight without any bloodshed.
"Well we can also have a constructive talk if you're the one to give up your weapon," Oberyn replied snarkily while keeping his complete focus on the Northerner. He had already scouted Sam and concluded that even though the boy had improved compared to before, he would still be completely inconsequential in a life-and-death fight with him.
Jon sighed and shook his head as he knew that they wouldn't get anywhere like this so he abruptly bent down to pull out his bow.
The instant Oberyn saw Jon go for his bow, he took his chance and lunged at him with his spear.
But what he didn't expect was the speed at which the Northern bastard moved.
Jon had discarded the sword in his hand, picked up his bow, primed an arrow on it and then shot it towards Oberyn, all before he could take more than a few steps.
Thankfully, Oberyn instinctively flinched at the last moment and the arrow missed his face by a hair's breadth, leaving his back filled with cold sweats.
But even with the close shave with death, Oberyn didn't miss the chance he got and immediately stabbed his spear towards the half-kneeling boy, but alas once again the dastard Northerner demonstrated his speed and nimbleness as he dodged and rolled away at the last moment leaving Oberyn cursing as his spear got stuck in the ground.
"You missed, boy," Oberyn grunted while calmly pulling out his spear from the ground, "And now I am close enough to you, that you wouldn't be able to take another shot... so why don't you tell the Tarly boy to let Obara go before I am forced to gut you..."
"You know, I would have seriously considered your proposal if I had missed my shot... but did I really miss it?" Jon asked with a meaningful smile on his face.
"What do you mean—" Oberyn's words abruptly cut off and his eyes widened as he felt a sharp sting at his cheek.
He hurriedly raised his hand to touch his face and sure enough, his worst fear was realised when he saw a thin line of blood on his hand courtesy of a scratch on his cheek.
"Not to brag, but you see, I haven't missed my shot since I was ten, so you should be really thankful that I wasn't shooting to kill you..."
"What have you done—" Oberyn suddenly faltered amidst his rage as his surroundings suddenly shook as if there was an earthquake and his eyes began to grow blurry.
"Oh! Has it started already... That was quite fast," Jon commented in a mildly surprised tone as if commenting on the weather, "I guess, the wound being so close to your head helped the poison spread faster... what a novel thing to learn—Oh!" Jon abruptly stopped his narration and jumped back to dodge the spear.
"I'll Kill You!!" Oberyn growled in anger as he lunged at the bastard disregarding everything else.
Even poisoned, his spear was accurate and fast as a viper's bite but Jon wasn't even playing the same game anymore as he kept jumping backwards not allowing Oberyn to pull him into a fight with his myriad jabs.
"You know, I would have loved to have a proper bout with you any other day... but it would be too unfair considering your situation at the moment... so why don't you give it a rest—"
"Argh! Fuck You!!" Oberyn grunted out furiously but no matter how hard he tried he couldn't even touch his enemy.
And to make matters worse, all this exertion had only made his blood pump faster making the poison spread through his body even more quickly.... and sure enough not even a few seconds later, he fell to his knees and began breathing heavily as if he was an old man.
Honestly, Oberyn felt less scared for his life and more humiliated at the fact that he had been almost poisoned twice by a boy third his age. He didn't think he would be able to live this down as a Dornishman...
"Don't worry, Prince... you and your daughter will be completely safe with me... so you can sleep soundly..." Oberyn heard Jon's fading voice as he fell on his face, "... and then when you wake up... maybe we can have our talk..."
And that was the last thing the Prince of Dorne heard before he lost consciousness.
...
The stretch of sea between the Free City of Tyrosh and the islands of Stepstones was considered the most dangerous place in the world for merchant ships.
Everyone knew that and it was something of common knowledge... But there were always exceptions in this world.
While some Merchants saw danger and loss of life in this place... other, more greedy, more ambitious Merchants only saw the massive untapped potential of this place and the piles of gold that they could make from here.
And it was somewhat of a cardinal rule that if there's big money to be made, then there would be merchants somewhere who will somehow find a way through... regardless of the risks.
Now, the method the merchants take to pass through completely depends on the kind of merchant they are...
If they are small-time merchants, the kind who aren't afraid of adventures, then they could take the path of maximum risk and maximum profits...
Where they completely rely on their luck to dodge the pirate ships. They hope and pray that their gods will help them and that the pirates will be on vacation or that they will all be drunk and asleep for the few hours that they need to pass the Stepstones.
And funnily enough, some of these pirates do get lucky and complete their voyages safe and sound. But most of them, who aren't so lucky... well, they get caught, their merchandise gets stolen, their women get taken, and then they themselves become someone's slaves for life... unless, of course, if they know someone who can buy them out for a hefty sum.
But on the other side of this are the big-time Merchants, the wealthy ones who have been in this game for a long time, who are too old and experienced to fall for short-term gains. These merchants like to go for the least amount of risk that they can take by hiring the toughest protectors that they can find in this part of the sea— The Braavosi Warships.
And while their profits may decrease substantially because of this... at least they can sleep soundly knowing that they have reduced the uncertainty factor from this situation as much as they could and that they could have small but stable profits for a long time... which is the most important thing for these big merchants.
The pirates too usually leave these kinds of big fleets alone as they also like to attack the easier, less protected smaller fleets where they could make quick profits... as it would be too much of a hassle for them to try and fight off a dozen Braavosi Warships at the same time.
After all, even if they somehow managed to win, they would still incur too many losses for it to be worth it.
But that doesn't mean that the pirates were afraid of these warships... Oh, no, no, no, thinking these pirates as scared cowards would be a wrong assumption.
Because the second these pirates felt that the risks justified the rewards, they would immediately launch their attack on the target, no matter who the protector was. And anyone who thought otherwise or underestimated them, thinking that the pirates would just run if they flew a Braavosi flag or that they would be fine if they just hired one or two warships... were either already sunk under the sea, or would soon reach there.
And at this very moment, someone was paying the price for making that very same mistake...
During their Biannual trip to protect the fleet of Merchant ships across this treacherous but immensely profitable stretch, the Master in Braavos decided to reduce their protection from twelve warships to just half of them.
Because due to some unforeseen circumstances (Norther Wolf Shipping,), the number of merchants patronising them had decreased by a third so they decided to similarly reduce their numbers so that they could decrease the cost of manning the warships and keep their profits the same... but this turned out to be a very fatal mistake.
Because, while fighting off twelve warships for a few dozen Merchant ships could be considered a massive loss... the same couldn't be said when there are only six warships, as then... then the risk decreases exponentially.
The merchants and their protectors had grown too complacent due to long years of safe and easy trips where the pirates let them go unharassed... they began to think that the pirates just wouldn't dare to attack ships protected by Braavos, even if the protection was a bit inadequate.
But they forgot that the pirates were an unpredictable bunch and that they could do anything and attack anyone once their greed overwhelmed them.. and at this very moment the Braavosi Warships were being reminded of that fact.
Six Braavosi Warships were surrounding big bulky merchant ships in their middle while trying to fend off the relentless attacks from a Pirate fleet commanded by one of the three Pirate Kings, The Ravager.
The fleet was on their way back after a fruitful trip to the other free cities of the Essos, their decks were filled with crates upon crates of high-value goods, and their chest were filled with coins, and they had almost begun counting their profits in their head... when they had been suddenly set upon by these pirate a few hours away from the Stepstones.
"Argh!!"
"Kill Them!!"
"Shoot the arrows!!"
"Kill the Pirates!!!"
"Raise your shields higher! YOU CUNTS!!!"
And the naval attack that the warships were under wasn't a haphazard one that you would expect from Pirates, no, the battle that was happening here was a surprisingly intricate one.
Each of the six warships had been first separated from each other and then three pirate ships had attached themselves to each of them, constantly harassing them, peppering them with arrows, and overwhelming them with the sheer numbers of pirates coming abroad.
And if the Braavosi warships tried to use their prized scorpions to target the pirate's ships, then these wretches would immediately scatter away and dodge the massive bolts using the higher mobility of their lighter ships.
But even if a scorpion managed to get a lucky shot and hit one of the Pirate ships, they would just calmly call a retreat before the warships could sink them, and almost immediately another pirate ship from the reserve would take its place and the attack would start anew.
And in this way, the smaller, older, shoddier pirate ships with paper-thin, defences were slowly harassing, and whittling down the mighty warships of Braavos.
And the one behind this attack, the commander of this pirate fleet, the Ravager King, was watching the battle while sitting on his wooden throne on the deck of his galleon and calmly sipping expensive wine safe behind the reserve pirate ships.
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