Close your eyes, and let's return to a time a couple hundred years back, when pirates ruled the seas. Imagine a massive ship, a grand frigate to be specific, with a gorgeously carved angel as the figurehead, arms outstretched as if in embrace. The name of this ship was the Britannia Angel, and she held nearly two hundred bloodthirsty crewmen. The Britannia Angel was captained by the very person she was named after, Captain Arthur Kirkland, England, he who ruled the most powerful empire to ever grace the earth.

This is the story of his glory days, before Alfred's existence, when he used his powers much more freely, the time when he was at his greatest and yet his most evil. He was invincible, a superstar by our standards. Let's dive in to his latest fight now…

"Where is this so called 'Lord of All Pirates' hiding?" A man named Juan Hernandez bellowed. He was the captain of the now sunken ship Sea Snake, and was a rather fat old bloke with receding dark hair, and a long grizzly beard. He had a pistol stuffed haphazardly into the sash around his waist, a saber at his side. Captain Hernandez wasn't expecting Arthur to come forward.

"I'm the captain here," Arthur stated, a smirk on his face. "And I'm starting to regret shooting at the old tub you seem to call a grand frigate." His crew laughed. Arthur's men were all burly, strong, seasoned sailors. While Arthur's hands were not calloused like there's, and had no hint of a tan anywhere on him, it was never hard for him to take them down. However, Hernandez did not seem to realize this, and continued to bellow in Arthur's face.

"You've got a pretty nice little getup for someone so young, don't you? And a nice ship to boot!" Hernandez laughed, his fat belly jiggling. Arthur tried his hardest not to show his disgust. This stupid Spaniard had no taste, did he?

"You're just a tiny little thing, aren't you? How about this boy, we'll say you got lucky taking down my ship, and I get yours, and you get to be, ah, my first mate or something, eh boy?"

Arthur was about to speak when one of his own men spoke up. "Stop insulting the captain. He could kill you in a second. Be grateful he didn't kill you when he sunk your ship moments ago."

"I'll admit, chap, I'm feeling kind of merciful today. I'll find the nearest piece of land and let you off, as long as you keep your mouth shut," Arthur said as he turned to head back to his cabin.

"You little…I'll show you!" Hernandez roared, pulling his pistol from his sash. Before anyone could react, Arthur turned and fired his own pistol, adding a third eye right between the Spaniard's two other ones. The man hit the deck, dead.

"Kill the rest of what's left of his men, whoever doesn't want to join our crew. He took a couple of our men; we take what's left of his. And someone, please get me a bottle of rum." With that, Captain Kirkland strode back into his cabin.

Not surprisingly, the few men from the Sea Serpent who had survived the raid were extremely willing to join. Hernandez's body was thrown carelessly overboard without a second thought as the ship rolled through the waves towards the nearest port to restock. It was overloaded with treasure, and the crew couldn't help but feel excited. The captain was always very giving when it came to distribution time.

After a reload of supplies and unloading of treasure, Arthur always had a checklist. First, more rum and alcohol all around. There must always be alcohol on the ship, always. Secondly, he scrapped all the crew's old weapons and had brought new swords and guns, replacing battered up old cannons with sleek new ones, and tons of ammunition, with some to spare. Then came the commodities necessary, including food and water supplies. Not that the crew ever ran out, the captain was the freaking Britannia Angel, he could do practically whatever he wanted. Just don't tell them that, he likes it to stay a secret for very obvious reasons.

That evening, the ship departed in search of good cannon fodder, specifically some French ships. Now, before I continue, let me tell of the rules on Captain Kirkland's ship. Number one, don't ever mention anyone by the name of Francis, regardless of whether the captain is around or not. Rule number two; don't ever mention the captain's eyebrows unless you are sincerely complementing them. Rule number three; don't challenge the captain to a drinking contest, as his alcohol tolerance was rather high at the time, and the challenger would most likely die of liver failure before the captain got completely drunk. At most, Arthur might have been slightly tipsy. Rule number four; don't challenge the captain to any sort of duel, he will kill you. Rule number five; if a crewmember fails to abide by these rules he will most likely die.

On that night though there didn't seem to be much of a problem, as the seas were calm. There were no ships around, so Captain Kirkland decided it was all right for everyone to have some drinks and relax. Maybe they'd get some Frenchies the next day.

Arthur sat in his cabin, a bottle of rum on the fine oak desk in front of him as he inspected the new charts he had just bought. Just when he took a swig of his rum, a few crewmembers came in, clearly tipsy. Arthur pushed the charts aside, and gave the men his full attention. Drunken sailors always made an interesting, and usually amusing conversation.

"Captain?" One man said, a tough looking fellow with a few scars underneath one eye.

"Yes, Robert?" Oh yes, this was going to be an interesting moment.

"Captain, by any chance, would you be Davy Jones in disguise?"

"No."

"Well, do you know Davy Jones?"

"No."

"Well…Do you believe in Davy Jones?"

"No, I'm afraid I don't."

All the men left the captain's quarters, shock apparent on their faces. One burst into tears.

"MY WHOLE LIFE IS A LIE!"

Inside of his quarters, Arthur burst out laughing.

Arthur later went out wandering the massive ship later that evening, and went down to one of the lower decks, bottle of rum in one hand. Was he tipsy? Oh Hell to the no he wasn't.

Arthur was searching for his first mate, James, in particular. He was basically James' best friend, and they enjoyed each other's company. One mate sneezed as Arthur strode past him.

"God bless you," Arthur said as he passed, walking into another room. Indy, as he was called, turned to the man who had sneezed.

"Did you hear that? He said 'bless you'. I TOLD YOU HE COULDN'T BE THE DEVIL!"

Arthur heard the outburst, and barely managed to keep a straight face as he took another swig from the bottle. The theories his mates had about him always kept Arthur entertained.

After finding James and having a drink and a good chat, Arthur retired back to his quarters. He fell into a deep sleep, lulled by the waves that gently rocked the large ship.

"CAPTAIN! We've got company!"

Was it morning already…?

Shooing James from the cabin, Arthur quickly pulled on tight fitting black trousers, a puffed sleeve, loose white shirt, and long sleek black boots. Rushing outside into the crisp early morning air, Arthur looked out upon the sea he loved so dearly. There were two war frigates in the distance, heading straight towards the Britannia Angel, the morning dawn's rising sun as their backdrop. Someone rushed out of the cabin with Arthur's beloved sword, a blade forged with indestructible metal from a fallen star, the words Great Britain engraved ornately into one side of the sharp blade. The hilt was gold plated, a single round emerald encrusted symmetrically with the other on each side. Another crewman handed Arthur one of his coats, a red one with embroidered gold and polished buttons, then one of his hats, pure black with a sleek slate gray feather, the edges also embroidered with gold.

"Everyone to stations! Load the guns, get your weapons ready! Raise the Jolly Roger! I want movement!" Arthur yelled out as he buttoned his jacket. Someone handed him his decorated twin pistols, then took off to the crow's nest.

James was at the helm today; Arthur turned to him.

"Yer orders, Captain?"

"Get us between the two ships. We'll fire at them simultaneously.

"LOAD ALL GUNS!"

Pulling out a spyglass, Arthur glared through it at the ships. They were both belonging to the bloody French, the damn wankers. Contempt shot through Arthur's veins like ice. His eyes seemed to become a toxic green, his aura murderous. Some of the crew began to laugh ominously, others shivering, some in delight, some in fear of their beloved captain.

Arthur walked to the center of the top deck, and then knelt down. He placed his left hand on the top deck, and then released a wave of energy, blessing the ship. It was one of the perks of having magical powers, and created a sense of respect. Great power commanded respect from the people; for Arthur, the ship was his citadel, the vast oceans his eternal kingdom. And he would make everyone, including the French, respect him and acknowledge his power.

"We're nearing the ships, Captain!" James called. "What are your orders?"

"Keep on course, we're doing wonderfully."

He then addressed his entire crew. "Leave no man alive!"

The crew let out a unified roar of approval. Dawn broke over the horizon just as the Britannia Angel glided between the two ships. Arthur noted the two ships, all though smaller in size, had both armed themselves fully, men at the ready by the sides of the ship. The fools, they stood no chance against the spell Arthur had cast upon his own magnificent vessel. All the cannon balls from the French ships could possibly do was bounce off. After all, Arthur was invincible; he had a reputation to maintain.

The Britannia Angel was now at the exact halfway point betwixt the two ships, perfectly perpendicular.

"All cannons! FIRE!"

There was no need for a single gunshot from a pistol or rifle; the two war frigates were blown apart from the grand frigate's barrage. Arthur watched as splinters came flying from the ships onto the top deck of his own vessel as they were completely obliterated. Oh, yes. The sweet symphony of destruction was a sound all pirated wanted to hear.

"Captain, maybe we should have taken some loot from them before we suck them?" Robert asked.

"No," Arthur replied, "from the direction they were coming from, they just returned from port, most likely relatively empty. There would have been no point, and any resistance from them could have cost us men and supplies."

As the Britannia Angel sailed away, all that remained were the few still floating bodies, and the bogged down sails that had yet to sink.

Arthur helped clear the deck of all random splinters, then took shelter back into his cabin before heading to the mess hall. For some reason he felt that the day's adventures had only begun as he shed his coat and hat onto the bed. He kept his sword safely sheathed at his side though as he headed for the mess hall. His premonition would, in a few hours time, come true.