The Imperium Chronicles:
The Rebirth
Introduction:
Somewhere in the Labrador Sea
October, 1625
The sails snapped against the howling winds as the ‘Hound’ a two-masted Ketch sailed southwards, a grim sentinel within the early morning mist, the heavy, lashing rain soaked the wooden decks blending salt air with the stench of stale ale; a shroud of fear wrapped tightly around the vessel.
Alfred Smythe, a man barely in his twenties found himself kneeling, the warm trail of something rolling down from his forehead after his recent beating, wrist bound by course, biting rope behind his back, his chest heaved from heavy breathing, raising his head, even as his world was blurring, tilting from the pain that coursed his skull, his gaze found a tableau of horror that had been unfolding purposely, by the Ship’s captain, and his once, longtime friend and ally; James.
James, like Alfred, was an Anti-Imperium ‘Hunter’ a disorganised group that traced its history to Medieval Europe to combat the shadowy organisation of the Imperium and their Cultist groups, Alfred and James had both swore their oaths in the same group, both raised and trained together – now though, his once, longtime friend had not only betrayed him through staging a mutiny, and heavily beaten him; he had escalated to something far more insidious.
His wife, Abigail was trapped beneath James, a grotesque display, her cries muffled by the grime-caked hand clamped over her mouth, eyes wide with terror; a desperate plea as they locked onto Alfred, Alfred, despite pain, made an effort to push himself upwards only to feel a heavy crack at the back of his head, a wooden punch against his skull that nearly completely floored him.
It was a vile act of betrayal, raw and brutal that played out with excruciating slowness that would reach its end with James casual disregard, Abigail being shoved off the table and sending her sprawling face-down in front of Alfred; her body trembling and wracked with sobs with no sound escaping.
As James adjusted his clothing; his gaze fell to Alfred, watching his vein efforts to pull his hands free, some futile effort to touch Abigail “Say your goodbyes Alfred” James sneered, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, his eyes gleaming “This is where your paths, and ours, shall diverge permanently”
Confusion surfaced as Alfred raised his eyes, a dark look present within them in an effort to hide his building confusion; ‘Goodbyes’ he questioned, only when rough hands yanked him upwards, while another of those who aided James, seized Abigail, a cold, creeping dread began to coil within his gut, a chilling clarity that pierced the haze and anger as it dawned on him.
James, with eyes of utter depravity gestured; at the silent command, before Alfred could utter a word, he watched in horror as Abigail was raised, bucking and screaming – a raw, primal sound of terror, the movement obvious, Alfred, attempted to surge forward, making a few steps before a heavy strike floored him with a heavy thud, his gaze lifting to see as his wife was thrown over the ships rail “No!” Alfred’s voice tore from his throat, ragged and desperate
The splash that followed soon swallowed by the roar of the waves – the silence that would follow was deafening, a vacuum where Abigail’s life had been, Alfred’s vision blurred, he could only stare at the spot she had just been as cold spray hit his face like a cruel promise; his world, once bound by love and purpose had shattered, it lit a single, burning ember of vengeance.
Chapter 1:
1630
Five-Years – It had been Five-Years since that fateful day had crumbled a man who once held hope and love, now; what remained was a man seeking revenge, if it had not been for the passing of another ship when he too had been thrown overboard, it is most certainly the reaper’s embrace he would have felt, fate had intervened, what had once been the enemy he hunted, had become the allies that raised him back up from his broken state, provided him safety and a new purpose.
The Imperium.
Now in his late-twenties, he had evolved into something far more dangerous, adapting Hunter training with the skills provided by the Imperium’s Cultists, provided connections he had only ever dreamed of, amongst them, Parliamentarians in England, some that whisper of revolution on English soil, despite these new connections, he took little interest in the affairs of English politics’, using these new contacts to gather information on the men that had betrayed him and to help him track down James.
Recently chosen to lead the Small, London Cultists; The Cult of the Minotaur, he had used this new network to track information, to learn of his former allies, already it had proven fortuitous, those five-years had earned him a new reputation.
With tied-back Blonde hair and layered clothing that hid a lean, yet powerful physique and a high-length coat, he often moved with economical grace that spoke of his countless skirmishes – the weight of a Cutlass at his hip, flintlock pistols at his chest and a tool once used only by Hunter’s hidden within his coat; Blinding Eggs.
He had turned the very tool that made the Hunter’s adaptable against them, often, as he ripped through small groups, leaving a trail of broken men and shattered secrets in his wake, it lit up the path to his one target.
On a cold November night; Alfred made his way across the quarterdeck of the Peona; his Brigantine, a sleek hunter that cut through the foamy Atlantic ocean, a rhythmic creak of timber as waves crashed heavily against the hull; he was lost in though, memories of happier times, he felt as though he was getting closer to avenging Abigail, briefly, he came to a stop, his gaze drifting upward towards the stars, scattered like forgotten diamonds across a dark canvas that offered him little solace.
As he was stood silently, a younger member of his crew, a recent recruit to Alfred’s Cultists, a lad by the name of Oliver – he was no older than Alfred had been on that night, upon spotting Alfred, he approached cautiously “Captain” he began, his voice low, barely a whisper against the wind, but managing to draw Alfred’s gaze “Where are we heading sir; I have heard some of the men mumbling of being restless and wanting to see land”
Alfred’s eyes momentarily narrowed, remembering back to the mutiny, he would need to eliminate any threat this time; a cold, removal of any that may dare try to betray; his blue eyes then drifted away, fixing on the horizon, he didn’t speak, merely raised his hand and gestured, a gesture Oliver understood as Alfred waved his hand in a wide arc, then, without another glance, turned and continued his solitary walk leaving Oliver to gaze into the unknown.
It would be at the first blush of dawn that painted the sky in hues of violet and orange as the sun began to crest as a smudge appeared on the distant cast, slowly, resolving into a familiar timer and stone of a budding colonial settlement; Salem.
As the Peona glided into the bustling colonial docks hours later, sails furled and the air thick with the sent of pine and salt which mixed with the stench of human industry.
The gangplank would be lowered; thudding onto the pier, Alfred first to disembark, his gaze devoid of curiosity as he scanned the faces of the milling crowd, though he searched for nothing in particular, he carried himself with an aura that commanded space and a dangerous stillness that made men instinctively give way.
He had barely taken a dozen steps before a figure detached itself from the shadow cast by a warehouse, cloaked and hooded to obscure his identity, he moved close to Alfred “Ah, Smythe; welcome to Salem” he murmured, words a low rumble as he walked in step with Alfred, though Alfred offered no greeting in return, his face remained impassive, betraying no emotion as the two simply walked “Speak your piece” Alfred finally said after a moment of silence fell between them, his voice a low rasp, almost angry
Sensing the tone, the cloaked figure simply gave a slow nod of recognition “Your target; the man who you seek to exact revenge upon as been seen here in the New World”
Alfred came to an immediate stop, his jaw tightening and twisted sharply to face the cloaked man beside him “You have spotted James?” he questioned, his eyes momentarily flaring, betraying the rush of anger coming to the surface
There was a subtle nod; by looking at Alfred, he could see the tension, a body that seemed like a coiled-spring of controlled power that was stiffened; the bustling dock, the cries of gulls and the creaking of timber, all of it faded into the distance; it was only James’s name that echoed through Alfred’s ears now, the cloaked figure gestured “This way” as he moved ahead of Alfred, a chilling grin tugging his lips as he lead Alfred towards the Cultist bureau within Salem, their primary nerve-centre for the Colonial settlement.
Chapter 2:
With the Cultist bureau that air within the enclosed space was heavy with an unsettling undercurrent of fanaticism and fear, a scent of sweat and lingering ale.
Gathered around a circular-table, various Cultists had gathered, some dressed in the drab, pious attire of typical pilgrims, faces solemn, fanatical, hands clasped like payer, while others wore darker, grimmer yet more practical clothes, it wasn’t only men though that stood amongst those gathered, but women, treated amongst the Imperium as equal in influence.
They were in the midst of a hushed discussion, voices low and urgent, weaving a tapestry together intent to manufacture terror and panic; hints of ‘Witches’ and ‘Dark Influence’ permeated these whispers, words carefully chosen to direct their plans to create a mass hysteria among unsuspecting townsfolk.
Alfred recognised these discussions, he understood what they were for – to build the Imperium’s influence within the shadows, to manipulate local leaders, it had been their method since Ancient times, to destabilize, to create chaos that served a hidden agenda – one that extended far beyond Alfred’s interest; Alfred was focused purely on revenge, an intent that was supported, believing once he’d accomplish it, he could turn that anger on the rest of his former allies.
Among the gatherers was an Imperium councillor, instead of taking his usual station in Rome, he had travelled specifically to the New World to assist in the search of James, to provide Alfred with the information he required.
Alfred’s entry, while silent, disrupted discussions like a stone being dropped into calm waters, eyes turning to the sound of his boots muffled thump against the floor, creaking the wooden boards, expressions were a blend of awe and apprehension, he offered no greeting, though, that was usually expected, they already knew the purpose of his visit as he strode to the table, his arms crossing across his chest as he came to a stop “Information; now” Alfred states, a low, gravelly voice
The Imperium Councillor; Robert cleared his throat, drawing Alfred’s cold gaze, he then pushed documents across the table towards him “Everything you require is in there; as for the location, he has been frequenting an abandoned Native encampment a few days ride northwest from here” there was a pause as he leaned against the table “That is where I would suggest you begin your search”
Alfred’s eyes fell to the documents provided, snatching them up and removing himself from the gathering without any further word; he had what he wanted, the name of his target and his potential location; Robert and those gathered watched as Alfred left, a coldness left in his wake.
For the following few days, the wilderness would swallow Alfred whole, the addition of a hooded travel cloak, its hood drawn to protect him from the elements, shielding his face, but also, it kept his features cloaked as his eyes watched his surroundings carefully, he knew the potential danger.
The horse beneath him obeyed his commands, plodding along tirelessly, hooves crunching on fallen leaves that carpeted the forest floor – as the landscape grew wilder, the trees denser, he finally approached the coordinates provided.
At the edge of a clearing, the horse came to a stop, below, nestled in a shallow valley lay the remnants of an abandoned encampment, weather beaten wigwams sagging, hides torn and skeletal frames pointing like accusing fingers at the grey sky with firepits choked.
Alfred dismounted, his boots sinking into the soft earth, he simply left the horse as he set off towards the encampment, his senses heightened, every fibre of his being attuned to his surroundings, he moved with the old, practised efficiency of a Hunter, footsteps silent, his right hand crossing his body towards the sword’s hilt, his eyes scanning the surroundings.
As he came closer, he could see the subtle signs of recently disturbed earth by a water source, faint footprints that were inconsistent with Native peoples – there was recent indicators of life.
His focus narrowed as he approached one of the fit pits, moving his hand to check for signs of warm, noticing a feint amber glow dying out “Recent” he murmured softly to himself “Not far” he said, raising his head, his gaze drifting about.
As he was scanning his surroundings, his focus was forwards, not behind – that would prove to have been the direction the attack erupted from.
A whirlwind of motion, a blur of dark hair as a body with swift intent erupted from the skeletal remains of a wigwam; an Anti-Imperium Hunter; Alice, borne of years of training and primal instinct launched herself at him, a small, wickedly sharp knife flashed in her hand as she aimed at his back.
Sensing the movement, Alfred instinctively dived forwards to evade, his shoulder crashing down into the warmth of the fire pit spreading debris about as he rolled, twisting his body to turn around, skidding his left foot back into the dirt to stop any further movement as he remained crouched, his eyes landing on his attacker, his hand moving beneath his cloak.
As Alice rushed forwards, Alfred straightened up, pulling his hand free from beneath the cloak; something in hand as he purposely clenched his hand, the subtle, muffled crack of an egg in his palm before he threw his hand forwards, while darting towards the side as he released the powdered substance towards Alice’s face.
Recognising the intent, Alice’s eyes instinctively closed, but her momentum also threw her, causing her to nearly fall when she could no longer see what was in front of her, when she peaked, she saw the flash of a sword coming at her, barely with room to manoeuvre, she raised the knife quickly, the heavy clang as metal connected with metal sending the knife flying from her grip and forcing her backwards.
Alfred swung the sword a second time, on a sharp angle, barely missing as Alice moved to the side, drawing her own sword, but in her effort to fight, she was quickly feeling the overwhelming striking power behind each of Alfred’s swings.
The heavy metal clanging echoing, ringing in the ears as Alice struggled, constantly moving back as she tried to weave and evade, Alfred though, his movements remained quick, his constant shift in body posture allowing for better reach; suddenly surging forwards he barged into Alice, sending her backwards and crashing down to the floor; lowering the sword as Alice hit the ground, Alfred marched forwards, kneeling above her and moving his hand to her shoulder to roll her over.
Alice though, allowed the pull on her shoulder as she found her previous weapon, gripping it and holding it in reverse, as she twisted around, she swung, aiming for his neck; Alfred quickly pulled his left hand from her shoulder to intercept her wrist, he could feel the tension – despite the petite body beneath him, this opponent he thought, was proving quiet strong; Alice made a quick effort to kick at his chest, barely managing to knock him back a little, but enough to at least try to create some room as she tried to get back up; purposely dropping his sword, Alfred deliberately let Alice take another swing; again grabbing her wrist, his fingers enclosing the entire width of her wrist with his right, and his left immediately came up at her elbow; pushing her elbow upwards and locking her arm as he twisted her about, forcing her to not only drop the knife, but crash down against the floor as he placed his knee at the centre of her back, applying his own weight against her as he pushed her arm painfully up her back; as he looked at the hand, he noticed the delicate curve of her wrist.
His eyes widened quickly, reaching with his left hand, he pulled the scarf from around her lower face, and leaned somewhat over to glimpse at her face pressed against the dirt, it finally set in that this was indeed a woman he had been fighting; as she struggled to breath, he moved his knee of her back,
Chapter 3:
As the realisation set in, it hit him like a physical blow, it brought an immediate, jolting halt to his aggression, his grip on her wrist easing, no longer restricting her aim into a painful angle, the crushing pressure he previously applied now softening as he restrained himself, his mind wrestling with an ingrained code of honour that, despite his dark path, still pulsed – he did not hurt women.
The sudden shift in power was sensed by Alice who made an effort to try wiggling and squirming free, though, Alfred’s strength kept her in place even if his initial restraint had slackened, he still held a much stronger position that her; he did however, roll her over, kneeling over her and looking at her carefully – she saw something within his eyes, they were not the same angered fury she witnessed in their fight, they seemed much more like a man experiencing a sudden emotional shift, the subtle indicator of his chest movement as his breathing became a little more laboured.
Alice stopped any effort to get free, her features softening involuntarily as she gazed up at him, her lack of escape attempt came with an immediate response, what strength Alfred was applying, seemed to disappear entirely, while he kept her pinned, he was no longer applying any meaningful pressure to cause pain.
Alfred scrutinised Alice’s pale, defiant face, the dark strands of hair that had come loose settling on her face.
“Who are you?” Alfred questioned
Alice though would remain stubbornly silent, her brown eyes locking onto his; his voice held a subtle growl, yet lacked the command he would normally have delivered, though his expression began to shift, to harden
“Speak” he demanded, impatience creeping into his voice – when she still refused to speak, he hesitated a moment, his hand twitching as he considered his next move, he decided he needed to scare her, so, he returned some pressure to her wrist, twisting ad eliciting a sharp gasp of pain from her “I do not want to hurt you; talk and I will just let you go”
As words began to form in her mouth, she was suddenly startled – an ominous sound cut through the silence, a sharp, distinct thud of arrows hitting the earth, three featured arrows punch into the ground barely an inch from Alice’s head, quivering violently.
Alfred reacted instantly; his protective instinct, dormant for the past five-years flared to life with a primal force, his primary directive now to protect as he yanked Alice upwards, a movement that completely disorientated her as she went from the ground to her feet in a few seconds; he roughly shover her back behind him with his right hand, while his left pulled his flintlock free, raising and firing without even taking aim, merely shooting in the direction the arrow had come; a deafening report that tore through the sudden silence of the forest, a lead ball singing its way through the trees and narrowly missing a dark shape that ducked deeper into the woods.
Alice, seizing the moment, broke free from Alfred’s less-than-firm grip, bolting for the treeline, now a blur of motion drawing Alfred’s attention “Get back here!” he shouted, he didn’t hesitate to give chase, holstering the pistol as he rushed forwards, grabbing the sword as he passed it.
His powerful strokes allowing him to quickly begin catching up as Alice darted and weaved through the thick foliage, jumping over logs or lunging for nearby branches to propel her forwards where needed, every effort to escape – Alfred though only matched her, closing that distance.
While Alice was fast – Alfred was relentless, catching up near a winding, shallow river; its dark waters reflecting the grey sky, he lunged forwards, grabbing at the back of her neck, and using his forward momentum as Alice’s feet slipped, he prevented a hard fall, but didn’t fully stop her as she stumbled down to her knee’s on the river’s edge, her movement nearly sending her face-first into the water; but stopping short by inches, Alfred’s on halting stumble and grip preventing her from hitting the water – he didn’t pull her away though, due to the precious balance she now had, he could control if she went into that water – Alice simply stared at her reflection.
“Your name; now” he reiterated, a voice tight with a controlled anger, threatening to put her head forwards – he felt her body tremble, but she remained defiant, his patience now wearing thin he snapped, pushing her head downwards so she felt the cold against her skin “Speak now or we shall find out if you can breathe water!”
Feeling the threat as genuine, it broke her, her eyes wide with fear darted from the chilling reflection facing her – that terrified expression of her own face to the reflection of Alfred, his eyes cold “Alice!” she gasped; the word a desperate confession drown from the depths
Alfred held her still for a tense moment, ensuring her compliance before easing any pressure “Where is James” he asked; his tone now like a knife’s edge
Alice’s eyes fixed on his reflection and quickly spat an answer “Jamestown; he set off for Jamestown, day or two to the south”
To Alice’s surprise; Alfred pulled her backwards before finally letting go of the back of her neck, letting her scramble away from the river, her eyes wide with confusion as she looked at him “What…, what are you doing?” her voice was hoarse, disbelieving
Alfred looked at her carefully “I had no intention of actually harming you Alice” he told her simply, he adjusted his cloak
As Alfred moved towards her, he offered her his hand – Alice staring at him with confusion, she was hesitant, but she did take his hand as he helped her upwards and back to her feet, confusion evident by her expression as she stared at him “Why are you after James?”
As Alfred shifted, intent on walking away he stopped, looking at her once more “He took something from me; something precious, defiled the woman I loved and sent her to a watery grave; and I intend to make him suffer from it” his voice was low, laced with pain – Alice thought carefully, she could see the pain in his gaze
She took a deep breath “I can take you to him” she offered – now Alfred looked to her with surprise “I know your story, I didn’t think it was true, after all, you betrayed us to join our enemy; but…, there is something in your eyes that says it is the truth”
“Our ‘Enemy’ saved me from the same fate, provided me safety and resources, to me, they are more than what we are told, they seek a being of great power, we’re often told he is evil incarnate, a celestial being that will wreak havoc, but there is so much more that we are not told, secrets I am now privy too; not all of the Imperium is evil, misguided perhaps, but not evil, like any other group or powerful entity” Alfred gestured “If you intend to accompany me, I shall welcome your help; but be warned, I do not take kindly to betrayal, and I will not hesitate under such circumstances”
Alice thought carefully, gesturing at herself “You’ve already disarmed me” she points out “I can’t exactly threaten you”
“Nonsense” Alfred shook his head “Weapon’s are one tool, there are many others I am certain your capable of, know I won’t accept any offer of you cooking if you are to accompany me”
Alice subtly rolls her eyes “Afraid I’ll poison you?” she shook her head, but, gestured, indicating for him to lead, setting off once he starts walking, she would keep her word, she would lead him to James – what would happen after though, she wasn’t certain, she held no loyalty to James, but would she openly betray a fellow Hunter…, she wasn’t certain, she would need more information before she could make such a decision.
Written By: Westley H.
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