The Coming From the Shadows Series
C.F.T.S
The Imperium Chronicles:
Khariton
Introduction:
The air hung thick, heavy tinged with a scent of damp earth, but not just that – a coppery smell mixed with the earthy scent; it clung to the very tree’s as they cast their skeletal shadows of the Russian forest, a shroud that was heavy and oppressive.
Khariton; an Ex-Tsarist Soldier of the Empire, a man who’d fought in the Russo-Japanese War, a man that had sought solitude following that conflict, found himself drawn into a new war – a war that few knew of, against a Shadowy Organisation simply known to him as the Imperium, since 1905, Khariton had learnt of Cultists operating in Siberia where he had attempted to settle in a relatively forgotten village, it was a discovery that would lead him to joining a disorganised group intent on opposing the Imperium, they were simply known as ‘The Hunters’.
As Khariton moved, the moonlight above revealed a face etched with lines of his years of experience, a grim determination in his dark eyes, he moved with the quiet grace of a wolf, his customised long-coat with its hood cast a reaper-like shadow across the ground amongst the shadows of the skeletal images of the tree’s.
His movements barely disturbed the fallen leaves as he stalked; a rifle strapped over his arm, while his hand gripped a serrated knife.
Ahead of Khariton was his recent target; a Cultist, his back a grotesque sight of crimson from his recent injury inflicted by Khariton’s attack, whimpers escaped his throat – pathetic sounds as he dragged himself across the ground, he made desperate pleas for mercy, pleas that fell on deaf ears.
The Cultist was a gaunt man wearing a tattered uniform, beneath him, he had created a trail across the ground, like a macabre painter’s brush stroke; his breath came in ragged gasps and painful sighs, he was fully aware of Khariton – the ‘Hunter’ getting closer.
A silent dread, far colder than the March frost took root in his gut; as Khariton’s heavy boots grew louder, more distinct, he knew the end was closing in, he could feel the vibrations in the earth itself, the frigid earth pressing down.
Just as Khariton closed the gap; preparing to delivery a final strike – a figure stepped out from behind a cluster of pines, she moved with an unusual ethereal calmness, entirely at odds with the brutal scene unfolding; Evelina.
Her Blonde hair was normally a beacon of warmth, now muted by an encroaching dusk, her pale complexion seemed to glow faintly in the gloom; her blue eyes wide, but held a familiar, weary resolve; Evelina did not look at the Cultist, but to Khariton, her presence was a silent question, yet a firm redirection of his lethal focus.
Chapter 1:
Moscow, The Russian Empire
The brutal killing within the forest had become another notch on Khariton’s grim tally, it clung to him like a cold, damp air as he and Evelina exited a nondescript warehouse along the outskirts of Moscow, a building of corrugated iron which seemed to sweat in the afternoon chill.
The air was heavy with industry and desperation, a significant shift from the scent of blood; Khariton, his powerful physical stature was a silent promise of protection for Evelina, he held the heavy metal door open, its hinges groaning in protest as Evelina stepped out into the grey light as she pulled her shawl closer, her slender figure appearing almost fragile against the backdrop of the city’s bleak periphery.
“We shall need to reach the French resistance Moya lyubov’” she stated, her voice carrying a quiet urgency despite her soft tone “The chest, it has left the motherland; no doubt in Frantsiya by now, as your little friend claimed”
Khariton gave a slow nod, his dark eyes canning the desolate streets before confirming, gently drawing Evelina closer as they moved together like any regular couple “I shall send a telegram to Dudley Irlandiya, he needs to be made aware of the chest escaping our reach for the time being” he paused for a moment “But you Moya Lyubov’; I want you to send a telegram to our allies in Sankt-Peterburg; let them know our intent to follow”
Evelina frowned, a delicate line forming between her brows “But that Cultist made mention of the intention for it to leave Frantsiya aboard a luxury vessel; if we are to follow, how do you intend to get us aboard a majestic vessel?, we are not exactly the picture of first-class opulence”
A faint smile, rare and almost predatory curve in Khariton’s lips touched his mouth “It wont be much trouble; we shall blend amongst those who intend to emigrate to the Soyedinennyye Shtaty; there shall be enough for us to blend amongst, all those seeking a new life, we shall be easy to miss, just part of the crowd”
Eveline rolled her eyes, it was a gesture of longer-suffering familiarity “You always say that; usually it is anything but easy, or even that simple” she recounted past attempts and even escapes that had initially been planned out and labelled by Khariton as ‘Easy’ only for such things to become narrow and often filled with bloody aftermaths
Khariton simply chuckled; a low, rumbling sound from his chest “Perhaps this time; fate shall be different Moya Lyubov’”
Queenstown, Ireland
It would be a few weeks later, in the bustling port city within the thick tang of salt, coal smoke and an unsettling scent of desperation, that word would reach an Anti-Imperium resistance group that had been formed partly inspired by the Anti-Imperium ‘Hunters’ – though the Resistors lacked the more traditional approaches of the ‘Hunters’ who held a unique method and approach to fighting that was grounded with an ethical approach and their unique weapon of choice consisting of a blinding tactic that often came in hollowed fragile concealable objects, typical Eggs, filled with various different choices – in Britain, one ‘Hunter’; Lydia Langdon had a preference for finely-ground glass powder, a choice often diverging from other ‘Hunters’ who blended stinging nettles or other options with various highly concentrated powdered substances such as spices or mustard seeds.
Within the resistance ground; it had a tendency to blind its fight against the Imperium against Imperial Powers – often treating the two as the same enemy, particularly with Dudley, a man whose aggressive nature had earned him a reputation amongst disparate allies for his actions against the British Empire and its occupation of his homeland.
At a planning table, he slammed a heavy fist down against the worn wooden table, his face its usual expression of stormy frustration; it caused an immediate silence across the pub “The Imperium’s grip must be challenged, in Serbia they have retreated, or that is what is being claimed, their activities have been dwindling due to ever increasing volatility…, we should take advantage…, help our allies make a truly calculated strike”
“The Hunters would not agree to that” a voice chimed
“Which ones” Dudley snapped, his eyes falling towards the man who spoke – an elderly figure, aged and worn with greying hair who sat resting on a crate “The French?, Italians?; they are disorganised and limit themselves, and don’t even claim those from England; they fell in 1872, purged by the Cult of the Minotaur”
“There is a resurgence in England” the elderly figure shook his head slowly
“Led by a Cultists daughter, and besides, from what we know of her, she has stopped fighting completely since some strange event in Crete” Dudley pushed himself upright
“Word claims her mother died in Crete, and she has is trying to settle into a peaceful life with a partner that had cared for her, you have met this woman in person when you travelled to the Ottoman Empire with Khariton” the elderly figure glanced about a moment “Khariton claimed she would be a potentially important ally, but your hostility might make it tricky, I can see why”
“She is no ally” Dudley snapped “She is a Cultists daughter and is therefore the enemy, any effort she has apparently made is redundant due to she herself being part of the problem” he growled, his voice a gravelly rumble “Let us focus on Serbia and our homeland here, we can signal the shift if we make our move” he gestured wildly
Cautiously, a younger man approached, he was wary of Dudley and his aggressive antics, but; he had a telegram that needed to be brought to attention; as he stopped by the table, eyes turned to him; the elder gesturing towards him simply saying ‘Peter’ – slowly he gave a nod as he placed the telegram down “We have a message; the Russian Hunter; Khariton has sent word to us”
Chapter 2:
With the declaration of the telegram, Dudley’s focus became sharper as he snatched it up, reading the contents carefully; it was indeed from Khariton and his shadow; Evelina, he recognised code within the telegram.
Thinking carefully, he put the telegram back down “The chest is on the move; by now it will likely of reached France; it’ll be within the hands of the ‘Roosters’ but, it will be taken further to the United States”
The elder thought for a moment before question “The United States?; What are they intending across the oceans”
Dudley ignored the question; Khariton on a previous mission already noted the Imperium entrenched position in the United States due to their newly elected leader; Victor trying to cement it as the new focus for their operations, his attention shifting away entirely towards a dockworker “What ships will be stopping here before America?”
“Only Large Passenger Ship I am aware of is one on its maiden voyage; it leaves Southampton, travels to France at Cherbourg then here; Titanic” the Dockworker glanced about before returning his gaze to Dudley “You said these Cultists are transporting a Chest from France?; could be stored on the Titanic”
The ‘Titanic’ – a name that held a strange foreboding to it, but Dudley couldn’t quite work out why “Well…” he said slowly “I guess I need to make some arrangements to try boarding that Ship”
Cherbourg, France
It was by the late afternoon to the beginning of the evening that a symphony of chaos and hope would break; the Titanic – testament of the hubris of man’s command over nature, a Colossal vessel that dwarfed the quaint French port.
Eager passengers, a vibrant tapestry of society swarmed the docks, amongst the swarm of the hopeful masses moved Khariton and Evelina; he kept his arm around Evelina, his hood drawn to keep his face covered, while Evelina tucked her hair beneath a modest scarf; her pale complexion was a common sight amongst the European travellers, they were ghosts amongst the living.
It was once they were aboard they broke off from the clamour and cacophony of people and various languages, the stench of cheap tobacco; they needed to find a place of safety, to avoid detection, though they would encounter a Cultist almost immediately who had boarded in Southampton – as soon as he met Khariton’s gaze, he recognised Khariton immediately “Hunter!” he croaked
Khariton though moved without any hesitation, releasing his arm from around Evelina, barging the Cultist into the nearest room as he drew his knife; he had struck like a viper; Evelina quickly positioned herself within the doorway, the sound of a muffled gurgled and soft clatter against the ground behind her nearly drawing her attention, but she kept watch to ensure secrecy, even amongst the crowds moving about, how they had even succeeded without drawing attention amazed her.
Easing herself back, she disappeared into the room to assist with stowing the body as best they could; Khariton commenting on needing to return to ensure safe removal when they are less likely to be witnessed “Yet another example of your ‘it’ll be easy’ moments, hm?” Evelina murmured
“Okay.., maybe I exaggerated a little” Khariton grinned, gesturing for her to move ahead of him “Let’s just hope Dudley got my Telegram, it will be easier to coordinate with his assistance”
Evelina rolled her eyes “Oh please Moya Lyubov’” she shook her head “The man is a menace; he attracts more trouble than what he solves, you told me of his interaction with the woman in the Ottoman Empire; a potential ally turned hostile because he threatened her despite her injuries”
Khariton gave a slow nod “She might still be a potential ally; she is a ‘Hunter’ like me, it’ll just take time to build a friendship with her; hopefully we can meet her together and you can use your charm” he said with a grin
Written By: Westley H.
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