Chapter 1: James Blackwheel

Göteborg, 1781

As the bell rang to signify the end of the meeting, Blackwheel held his wrist tightly as a sign of respect for the newly elected leader of the brotherhood. Close to him was his wife and children who had managed to accept his kind invitation despite having a family dinner with his wife's parents. 

When he reached the exit of the building, he turned to take another look at the piece of architecture that had relentlessly endured foreign threats for the past three decades. This ageless sanctuary in Göteborg had been a home for people of his kind, people who came alive when the full moon was at its peak.

Blackwheel lowered his gaze as he saw a slender man approaching him. He wore a leather coat and had an almost comical curling mustache. His appearance was not something he would fancy on a regular day.

"My name is Oskar," the man said in a rough Swedish accent, "and I am here to advice you on certain issues concerning your recent visit to the court house."

Blackwheel reached inside his pocket and brought out a small necklace—one that he had made sure to inspect before buying. The necklace had been a possession of his family for the past two millenniums until it was stolen from his father a few days after his death.

"The necklace?" Blackwheel asked, turning abruptly on hearing the laughter of his wife and children.

"My parents are still waiting for us," Blackwheel's wife informed, "we can still make it in time if we hurry."

Blackwheel sighed loudly, sounding more serious than bored. "I will meet you in the house," he said to his wife.

After his wife and children were gone, he dragged the man to a silent corner where their faces could not be seen clearly. His breath was growing weaker every day since the last initiation ceremony that involved him raping a virgin in front of everyone.

"What does he want?" Blackwheel asked, frowning.

"He wants the necklace," the man said, trying to lower his voice. "Let us go to a safer place. I don't feel secured."

At the end of the road, Blackwheel felt his heart leap. He felt his blood pressure rise to a level that made him feel uncomfortable.

"Are we there yet?" 

"Not at all," the man replied. "But we are close. Keep on moving."

Blackwheel had always enjoyed the excitement involved in passing through thick walls with few openings, dark tunnels that led to secrets only him could solve. However, on this night, all he wanted was to be with his wife and children in their dining room, laughing about the incoming snow that refused to fall straight.

"London’s history is fascinating," Blackwheel said in an effort to lure the man into a random conversation.

"I heard the former king was cruel," the man said with a smirk.

"You and every uninformed Swedish man I have met said the same thing. Any reason for the hate?"

"No!" The man feigned a hearty laughter. "That bloody fool didn't accept our former leader even when he came in peace."

Blackwheel smiled patiently. "Then you clearly do not understand what it means to be an English man."

"I intend to," the man said. "Once I get the opportunity to place your daughter on the foothold of our great temple."

Blackwheel refrained himself from doing something stupid. As far as he knew, they were bad men who had infiltrated the temple and were planning on wiping the slate clean before anyone could know they were ever there in the first place.

"You know that I didn't mean to rape the virgin," Blackwheel managed to raise his voice. "It was an order I could not reject. I only wish I could make things right."

"Right?" The man laughed merrily, shaking his head. "The moment you agreed to be a part of the brotherhood, you made a choice. Not even your wife knows what you are capable of doing. You sicken me with your words."

"The brotherhood sickens me with their constant demands," Blackwheel complained.

"What were you doing in the court house this morning?" 

"I went to collect the last small piece of architecture my father left for me before he died."

"What is inside the necklace?"

"Nothing of interest to the brotherhood."

Blackwheel grinned as he fully grasped the situation, he had gotten himself into. The mystery of the universe and the hearts of mankind could never cease to fascinate him. Very few men on earth could boast understanding the nature of existence without confusing themselves. For the past few years, Blackwheel had primarily lived in Sweden, running away from prison time in England for a murder he did not commit. It was often said that he spent more time torturing his soul than the devil himself.

"I will give you one more chance to explain yourself to me. We are brothers who work for the same brotherhood. You and I have been together since I first moved to this city. You attended my wedding, my daughters' naming ceremonies and my father's burial. I don't understand why you will walk up to me, introduce yourself as Oskar, send three men to follow my family and take me on a walk down a lonely road leading to nowhere."

"There is purpose in everything we do," the man smiled. "We find meaning when we realize that we must let go of the past and move on."

Blackwheel moved backwards as soon as he saw the man pull out a small knife from his waist.

"The brotherhood wants your necklace," the man said, "and I want your life."

Blackwheel tried to run but the man was quick. He caught him and pressed him towards the wall. Suddenly, his skin texture began to change slowly as his tension increased.

"I don't want to hurt you," Blackwheel said, trying to resist the animalistic trait that was building up in him.

"I don't care," the man yelled. "That virgin was my sister. You raped my sister."

Blackwheel stopped. Every bodily function in him stopped too. His bones cracked as he became aware of what he had done. All he could hear was the leader saying she was a traitor to their brotherhood.

Now, standing on top of a bridge that was once the resting place of a Viking king, Blackwheel pressed on to his coat. A cold feeling rose in him as he looked at the eyes of the man that had pledged to save his life no matter the cost. As he neared the threshold of a turning point in his life, he took the knife from the man and slit his own throat.