The noble lady was a tub of a ship, as fat and wallowing as the noble ladies of the Greenlands.

Her holds were huge, and Victorian packed them with armed men.

With her would sail the other lesser prizes that the iron fleet had taken on its long

voyage to Slavers Bay, a rubbery assortment of cogs, great cogs, carrots, and trading

galleys, salted here and there with fishing boats.

It was a fleet both fat and feeble, promising much in the way of wool and wines and other trade

goods, and little in the way of danger.

Victorian gave the command of it to Wolf I here.

The Slavers may shiver when they spire sails rising from the sea, but once they see

you playing they will laugh at their fears, traitors and fishers, that's all you are.

Any man can see that, let them get as close as they like, but keep your men hidden

below decks until you are ready, then close and board them, free the slaves and feed

the Slavers to the sea, but take the ships, we will have need of every haul to carry us

back home.

Oh, the men are like the sound of that Lord captain, the ships first, then we break these

yonkesmen, aye.

The iron victory was lashed alongside the noble lady, the two ships bound tight with chains

and grappling hooks, a ladder stretched between them.

The great cog was much larger than the warship and set higher in the water.

All along the gunwales, the faces of the ironborn peered down, watching as Victorian clapped

Wolf I here on the shoulder and sent him clambering up the ladder.

The sea was smooth and still, the sky bright with stars.

...