On the vast, two-kiloter-wide stretch of water that looked more like an endless sea, two fleets t.
Their commanders, as if sharing so unspoken understanding, ordered their ships to turn broadside to each other, ready for battle.
Seen from above, the fleets looked like two black serpents gliding forward, drawing closer with every stroke.
"All hands, battle formation! Archers, prepare!"
The man giving the order had a scholarly air about him. He was Jim, the self-proclaid "King of the Rhoyne River," and commander of this fleet.
His n were a mixed lot — Rhoynars, Andals, and even Westerosi among them. Jim's entire force counted about forty ships, though today he had brought out barely half of them for this "hunt."
That was still plenty, for his archers were his pride and his most formidable weapon.
When his pirates spotted the approaching convoy coming downstream, excitent surged through them.
The fleet ahead had more than ten ships, all of them new and sturdy. From how deep they sat in the water, it was clear they were loaded with goods.
"My lord, what do you think they're carrying?" one pirate asked eagerly.
"Looks like Rhoynar ships — probably grain or cloth," Jim replied. He knew the vessels of this region well; Rhoynar ships always had high, curved prows shaped like waves in motion.
"This fleet is a big one," Jim said with a smirk. "When we're done, let two of them go."
He was not a mindless bandit. With forty ships under his command, his ambitions were far beyond simple plunder. He understood what it ant to "fish sustainably" — to never strip a river bare.
"Understood!" his n shouted.
anwhile, Viserys had already spotted the pirates closing in. Sothing about this group felt different.
Even though there were still more than two hundred ters between them, the pirates were already drawing their bows.
Ordinary longbows had an effective killing range of barely a hundred ters — sixty if one wanted to pierce armor. Unless these pirates were using dragonbone bows.
Dragonbone bows were known as the finest in the world, but they were extrely rare.
Even a dead dragon provided little usable material, and the Targaryens themselves possessed only a few dozen such bows, all of different sizes.
Yet the pirates numbered four or five hundred. There was no way they all had dragonbone bows… or so Viserys thought.
The next mont, the pirates proved him wrong.
Even at two hundred ters, they loosed their first volley.
Arrows arced high through the air before plunging down toward Viserys's ships. Most splashed harmlessly into the river, but more than a hundred thudded into hulls and decks. A few even pierced soldiers' armor.
Seven or eight n fell, clutching their wounds and crying out in pain.
Arthur imdiately noticed.
At that range, normal arrows couldn't pierce armor. Such volleys were usually just for adjusting distance and accuracy.
If armored n were being wounded, then the power of those longbows was far beyond ordinary.
After the first volley, Jim ordered his fleet to close in faster.
From his experience, the perfect range was between one hundred and one hundred fifty ters — far enough to blunt enemy arrows but close enough for his own to dominate.
Soon, the two fleets were barely one hundred and twenty ters apart. On land, it would have been the distance of a single cavalry charge.
They could now see each other's faces and even the color of their skin.
"Pentoshi?" Jim muttered, surprised to see pale-skinned n aboard the Rhoynar ships.
He hadn't expected that. Pentoshi and Westerosi looked alike, which explained his earlier misjudgnt — though it hardly mattered.
No matter the skin tone, all died the sa beneath his arrows.
"Second volley! Ready!" Jim shouted.
Through his spyglass, Viserys noticed sothing strange — there were won among the pirates.
Not captives, but archers. They were drawing bows and firing alongside the n.
That was unheard of. Pirates never brought won aboard. It was considered bad luck — and, more practically, dangerous.
Won weren't loot to divide. A single woman on a ship could turn n against each other, jealousy leading to duels, betrayal, even murder.
Most pirate captains would rather bring a goat aboard than a woman.
Yet these pirates not only had won among them — they treated them as equals. It was bizarre.
But Viserys had no ti to dwell on it.
The second volley was already in the air.
This ti, the arrows ca straight, not arcing. They struck with terrifying force, hamring into decks, masts, and armor.
The impacts were not fatal, but the armor of his soldiers was being punched clean through.
If the pirates got any closer, the armor would beco useless.
A few soldiers tried shooting back, but their arrows barely reached the enemy ships before dropping into the water.
Watching the weak shots clatter to his deck, Jim frowned. The craftsmanship of those arrows was excellent — uniform, fine work.
"Faster!" he shouted. "Close the distance! We've hooked a big fish this ti! Ha ha!"
If the enemy was using standardized weapons, that ant their master was soone important — perhaps a noble, or even a king. Capturing him alive could earn enough ransom to make Jim rich for life.
"There's a big fish on the line!" his n shouted in excitent. "Let's reel him in!"
Their cries carried all the way to Viserys's ships.
Two volleys had struck them already, while they hadn't fired even one. Morale wavered.
As the pirate fleet drew ever closer, little Jona felt her legs trembling. Monts ago, a Rhoynar soldier had leapt in front of her and taken an arrow through the neck. His blood had splashed across her face.
Those eyes — going dull even as they stared at her — would haunt her dreams forever.
Barely thirteen or fourteen, Jona was seeing the cruelty of war for the first ti.
Then she heard Viserys's voice cut through the chaos.
"Raise shields! Forward — et them head-on!"
Jona couldn't understand it.
The enemy's archers clearly had the upper hand. Shouldn't they be retreating instead of charging forward?
To her, it looked like suicide.
She glanced at Viserys just in ti to see him say two words to Arthur and then vanish into the cabin below deck.
Coward, she thought bitterly. A king who hides while others die for him.
But before the pirates could loose their third volley, a thick mist began to rise from the river's surface.
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