Contest:Half-Blood in History Contest/Francisco Teodoro - Time's Entry

Francisco Teodoro - Time's Entry

Sing me a song of a lad that is gone.
Say, could that lad be I?

Full Name

Francisco Kaiser Teodoro

Birthday

Physical / Biological Age

Sex / Gender

Male / Male

Family

Father: Andrew Gilling
Mother: Harmonia
Siblings: Children of Harmonia

Personality

Francisco Teodoro is the proof that one must change with the times. If one would compare him to the boy, the child, that sought to control the heavens to what he is now, one would laugh. Gone was the arrogance and selfish ambition and replaced with a humble yearning that seeks a quiet life. Francisco is content with seeking a domestic harmony rather than seeking glory and fame. Well read, Francisco is open to any particular philosophical debate with one person, however, he fully confesses his limits to knowledge. He can only know so much. One might struggle to force Francisco to come to a conclusion. He will discuss something with you but turns away from finding a definite confusion. He has been alive for more than a century but he feels more and more of his memories and knowledge slipping away from him.

History

• The Druids
• The fall of Eratos
• The Rubies
• The labyrinth
• Andrew Gilling
• The Mary Celeste

Francisco's story began long before his birth. It began when a quest went terribly wrong. It all began in 53 BCE in the area that was then known as Gaul. The Carnutes were a Gaelic tribe and had one of the largest territories at the time, situated between Sequana and the Liger river. However, they were under the rule of Tasgetius, a puppet king to the Roman empire. The Roman empire had casted her shadow over Gaul by 58 bce when Julius Caesar invaded. However, the heart of this story began with one of the Bandruí, the female counterparts to the druids. Though they were few compared to the druids, they were still integral to the community. Some even partook in combat. Most Celtic tribes were somewhat accepting of Romanisation. They were given different attributes, such as theatres and other cultural structures (such as colosseums), as well as protection. Like most of Roman imperialism, it often became a transaction between the Roman’s and the defeated in order to encourage assimilation rather than further dissent. The Bandruí, Aife, was a daughter of the Roman rendition of Apollo and was highly regarded for her healing abilities.

Everyone turned to her. The Roman’s believed her a gift of Apollo and Mercury (she always smiled, knowing full well they weren’t too far off) and she was treated as almost royalty. Aife didn’t need this treatment nor did she particularly want it. She was far too bothered about everyone’s ability to get infected to go and concern herself with something like how people treated her outside of her work.

One week, though, Aife found herself with an abundance of free time on her hands and used it to travel into the nearby woods, doing her best to find all the herbs she needed to help her work. It was here that she encountered Persephone. Although Aife knew of the Roman gods' existence, being a Roman demigod herself, Aife wasn’t aware of the Greek Gods still being present. Persephone told Aife that she was from a neighbouring village. At first, the Greek Goddess didn’t think much of the Roman Celtic but as they continued to cross paths in the forests, they began to converse and bond over their knowledge of herbology (it came with Aife’s job). It ended peacefully with Persphone telling her that she was moving to a relative’s village far south of the Carnutes due to an arranged marriage. Aife accepted it and went back to what she was doing previously. Monogamy and lifelong commitments was never truly something her community prioritised. Her priority was aiding her brother’s and sister’s (and everyone in between) and ensuring that there was peace between the Celtic people and the Roman’s.

Four months later, a boy was left on the doorstep to the infirmary. With a small note tucked into the baby’s blankets, Aife soon realised what had happened. Without a husband, however, Aife would have been casted out of the tribe if people were to find out she has a child. Of course, she claimed him as a ward but without a husband whilst simultaneously having such a public life, they still looked down upon her. So quick on her feet, Aife found herself a husband.

“I will not question what you do. Who you bring home. We sleep in different rooms. We do not touch each other’s finances. We will live a separate life together.”

Whilst the husband was older, he had lived a life rejecting female companionship and children. Instead, he consorted the Roman soldiers and other men around him. Whilst accepted (many had same sex relationships at the time), people questioned why he never took a wife. Why he was content with drinking and other revelry. However, through marrying Aife, all the questions and sideway glances became scarce and people let them be. The baby boy, named Eratos, grew up in this household, loved by both his mother and step father, whose name was Cisiambos. Though it lacked romance, the two began to care for each other as friends and the husband helped raise Eratos whilst Aife was working in the infirmary. Aife turned a blind eye when Cisiambos brought home men, ensuring Eratos was kept out of the way. Of course, some were gods of both Roman and Greek descent. Bacchus was a frequent passerby. The only god who refused him was Apollo out of respect for his daughter and grandson. Meanwhile, Aife began to see a daughter of Venus who had married into the community. Everyone saw them as best friends but they couldn't help but fall in love. Cisiambos, surely, suspected something but he respected Aife to leave them be. Eratos grew up surrounded by love. He didn't have wealth and riches growing up but he had love.

When Eratos was fourteen he began his training to become a druid like many young boys at the time. He spent hours and hours learning the lore of his Celtic heritage. He learnt how souls do not perish but pass from one to another and fell in love with nature and the stars. Eratos could find his way no matter where he was, using the stars to guide him.

He was never truly lost. He accepted his status as a Greek demigod but it had little impact on him. Eratos knew of the existence of more than one pantheon so he was a firm believer of the Celtic gods on top of the other heritages. His beliefs were a patchwork that was all wrapped and interwoven together. The druids were often religious leaders but also legal adjudicators, leaders, medical practitioners. Integral parts of a community. It was seen as a great honour for him to be trained as one. Aife hoped he would follow her into medicine but instead-he turned to governing. Like his mother, he became a highly influential councilman. He worked with the Roman’s to give everyone the best sort of life possible.

“She has banned all contact during these months. You must reach him.”

She came to him in a dream during his seventeenth winter. He woke up in a field full of flowers and trees. He was surrounded by colours and life. In the middle was Persephone, dressed in nothing but a robe and a sheath of grain in her lap. He walked towards her. Vines wrapped around his legs, making his movements slow and sluggish, flowers danced around him. The trees that framed the field were bending with the force of the howling wind. The scenery was breathtaking but it was rendered sublime and he could feel nothing but helplessness and grief as he moved towards the woman he knew to be his mother.

“Follow the stars. They will lead you where you need to go. Give this to him.”

It was a brief discussion. Her pressing a bag of hand woven wool, speckled with gold, into his grasp. Her turning into a tornado of flowers that swirled around them into the sky. Maybe that was the curse of the human, the curse of the mortal-the inability to truly master nature and conform it to their own will. He woke up in a sweat-almost believing it to be a dream until he felt the weight of the bag beside him.

Eratos knew the right thing was to do what she asked of him. To do what his training had taught him and follow the stars, give Hades the stone and return to his mother and community and continue the life that he had lived. Marry the girl he was falling in love with, raise a family. However, he sat in that bed with the rays of sunrise whispering through his window, the bag in his hands.

“I was Pandora when she picked up that jar. When she let out all the evils of the world. I was her reincarnation when my fingers pulled at those strings.”

Inside was an uncut ruby that was as big as his hand. When Eratos raised it to the rays, red light danced around his room. It stole his breath away. It was as if flowers of all kinds danced across the room. He would be content to waste away his life if it meant he could witness something so beautiful.

Eratos was never meant to look upon that stone. It was a gift for Hades whilst Persephone dwelled with Demeter. It was never meant for mortal eyes. Persephone could forgive her son's curiosity, though, blame the folly of human nature. Eratos left the next night with the promise that he'll return and bring glory to his family. It was an honour to be trusted by a goddess with such a task. His intentions always began well. The path to hell is always paved with good intentions. Which was quite literal in this scenario.

Eratos travelled deep into the Gaul, sleeping through the day, travelling by night. He had nothing but the gem and the clothes on his back. A sword to fight the monsters away. He travelled from town to town, stocking up on food and drink, lucky to be able to sleep in a bed. He spent each night breathing in the night air, appreciating everything he could see and experience. He couldn't be sure whether or not he will leave the underground after this. To travel where life had disappeared was blasphemous and contradicted everything he believed in. Yet he still followed the stars. It wasn’t until he neared the modern day border of France and Spain that everything shifted. He met someone.

Eratos had been injured by the hydra that followed him through a forest. It was obvious he didn’t have the skills to defeat it by himself, so he ran, hoping to either lose it or find help. He didn’t succeed at either. The hydra caught up with him and injured him terribly before he passed out. The gem’s rucksack fell into a ditch, where it lay unnoticed by his saviours. When he woke, he was told the monster was almost playing with him rather than killing him quickly. A local settlement, full of demigods, had heard his screams and dispatched the monster. When he woke, a daughter of Poseidon was pressing a damp cloth against his burning forehead. Eratos had grown up around love of all types. It’s all he knew. His loyalty to his family drove him in everything he did.

What Aife felt in the daughter of Venus, what Cisiambos felt with his lovers, came close to what he felt when she filled his bleary vision. The surge of emotions that coursed through his veins. The gem was almost forgotten. Hades could come and fetch it from the ground himself for all Eratos could care. He couldn’t care less-he had fallen head over heels. Surely, the emotion that consumed him as the days passed by was worth angering the heavens? However, he knew he had to provide for his new family, especially when he brought her back home. So he dug the gem out of the ground with his bare hands and shaved a little bit off. That alone was worth a fortune and with it, he bought two horses. He intended to sell the gem and be comfortable for life.

“She who risked her own mother's anger for her lover can understand. I will not leave her.”

Eratos stayed in that tribe for weeks on end. He didn't retrieve the gem in that forest. They married the next month. That night, Eratos woke up in the field once again but it was ash. Nothing was alive. The trees were bare of leaves and there wasn't even a whisper of a wind. The flowers crunched under his feet. Persephone was dressed in black, standing larger than life. Eratos could not move, he was frozen, struck with fear and could feel death already beginning to cast its ugly hand over his life. At first, it was a warning. Ordering him to complete his task. No. For the sake of being his mother, she asked again. I will not. He would not leave his wife, nor would he take her to a lifeless land. In truth, he was terrified of the place and he had found his escape.

Persephone's punishment was simple: as long as he, or anyone else, owned that ruby, all who loved them would live a painful life whilst they would live a prosperous and long life.

However, Eratos awakened without being told of this. He thought he was free. That, since he was her son, she forgave him. With his wife by his side, he returned to the Carnutes, the gem still in his possession. For a few months, he was happy. Everything was going in his favour, he was to be a father, he was becoming wealthier by the second. When he returned home, people believed him to be a hero. What an honour it was to complete a quest for the heavens. When Aife asked him what the underworld was like, he simply smiled. He didn’t tell her what had truly happened. His wife, knowing the shame it would bring her husband’s name, and her by extension, kept his secret. Nor did she want to lose him to a god who was sure to strike him down if he tried to complete his mission now.

Eratos became a councilman and had the same amount as power as his Roman equivalent. He used his wealth to move his entire family into the equivalent of a mansion. He had five hundred slaves under his possession. His house was decorated with mosaics and art from across the known world. Life was good. Until his wife was stabbed, her stomach swollen with his child. They tried to save the baby but he was already dead by the time they cut into her stomach. It wasn’t long until they found the culprit.

His first fiance had been patient when she was waiting for his return home. But seeing him return home with a wife? She kept a smile on her face but soon she exacted her plan. She wanted to get caught for what she did. She had no intention of being left unnoticed when she plunged that knife into the wife’s chest.

“I have seen all the horrors in that household. Strange men move through the hallways. I have seen her sinning whilst her husband sleeps at night.”

It all came out. Aife’s affair then Cisiambos multitude of affairs. The thin ropes that were keeping their life together fell apart. They were all touched by this horror-except for Eratos. He kept his position. He was treated with sympathy by the community that were soon turning on his parents. The community Aife had spent so long healing and improving turned into something monstrous. Both Aife and Cisiambos were arrested and locked up, despite Eratos pleading for their freedom, promising to do anything for their safety. But he was refused. Cisiambos was used as a human sacrifice to the gods, something the tribe was prone to do. Their human sacrifices were almost always limited to criminals.

“May all those who are free of sins cast the first stone.”

Surrounded by the people she had healed all throughout her life, Aife was cast down. A boy whose arm she healed threw the first stone. She did not stumble. She closed her eyes. A man whose hand would have been amputated from an infection if not for Aife casted the next. It landed on her jaw. She could hear the crack of her bones. She fell to the ground and covered her head. Eratos refused to watch but he could hear the mob. He could hear it's grotesque yells pierce the peaceful air from where he hid. Eratos covered his eyes and wept.

“Oh, how the gods have forsaken me. I pray the fates do not look upon me now. My dear mother, forgive me.”

With nothing to lose, Eratos left for the underworld, taking one of his horses and the gem, he raced. He didn't stop. He kept on pushing and pushing, following the stars. Eratos was determined to confront his mother and step father, no matter the personal consequences that this might have. However, he simply arrived back at the tribe a few days later. He travelled in circles. In truth, Eratos could leave the tribe as long as he never had the intentions of going to go complete his quest. To seek Persephone's forgiveness was out of his reach.

He was trapped in a hellscape where monsters praised him and smothered him. He rightfully blamed the gem for his misfortunes. He disappeared into his house and locked the doors. No one is to enter. Now alone, Eratos cut it down into four pieces. He bastardised the gem that he had once thought a gift. Eratos gave two of the chunks to three councilmen. It was they who stirred the mob, it was they who cast their malformed words into existence. Eratos thanked them for being there for him in his time of need. How they had his best interests at heart. His intention was to rid himself of the gem, almost completely. It was they who could deal with the curse that was Persephone's gift.

Yet, he kept one.

He left for Rome. Eratos sold all his slaves and belongings. They will not follow Eratos down the path that he is setting himself up for. He used that money to live upon until he could set himself up elsewhere. He believed that since he had eradicated most of the gem from his possession, he'd be freed from his jail. It was a loose belief but it worked whilst in truth it was because he had no intention of finding Persephone.

True to his suspicions, each man suffered deep sufferings whilst their personal luck increased. One eventually tried to commit suicide but was saved at the last minute. Another shut himself in, believing the gods were punishing him. The last one actually didn't mind the events, he didn't really like his wife or children. However, all three came to the conclusion that it was, in truth, Aife who had cursed the stones and still held Eratos in high regard, thinking he gave it to them not knowing the consequences it reaped. The women were always the witches.

However, as time passed, those three gems moved on from them. Most were lost to history. The gems began to became a myth, distributed by one of the three councillmen. One was said to have been lost with King Arthur. Another one buried in Olympus itself. All three lost but one. The largest cut of them was made into a necklace when a slave trader acquired it, just before the fall of the Roman empire. Each owner, like the last, suffered from the same curse. The few that kept a hold of it never aged. They lived for centuries before the pain of watching their loved ones became too much and they cast the curse onto a naive human who was driven by human greed.

“They say the world is driven by money, and that is right, but it is human greed that is the downfall of history.”

Over the years, it has seen many owners. Anne Boleyn wore it before she gifted it to a close friend. A month later, she was executed. It travelled all the way around the world, from Russia to the colonies. George Washington acquired it before the 'Battle of Jumonville Glen', where he was hailed a hero, but only a few months later was he standing in the midst of a sea of blood that poured out of a third of his army as he was unable to fight off the French in Fort Necessity. He kept it in possession for a few more months until he ended up having to desert it where it was found by an English soldier who brought it back to England.

Centuries later, it ended up in the hands of Queen Victoria.

It was a gift from her beloved Prince Albert as a wedding anniversary gift. She never parted with it until his death in 1861. Overcome with grief, she refused to see the necklace and hid it away in her vaults. Some said the red would contrast her black ensemble but in truth the reminder was far too painful for her to even lay eyes upon it. It took two years for someone to steal it without being caught by the guards.

“My Queen is surrounded by wealth. She will not notice the disappearance. I have two children to feed-I do what I have to do.”

The thief was a guard himself. He who couldn't help himself from the sparkling jewel that lay forgotten. Th guard pocketed the necklace the first chance he had in order to build his family a better life. He had been born and raised in the slums of London this was his opportunity to get out of there. The industrial revolution was happening all around him and poverty was rising.

The guard soon ran from England, knowing that the moment they found the disappearance of the jewel, the Queen's dogs would be on his heel. So he left on a ship, travelled across the ocean, to land in New York. He brought his family with him to the city, he established himself in Manhattan and started a new career in accounting and trade. He broke the ruby off the necklace and, since it was the largest cut, was able to break a piece off and it ended up being worth two years of his income. Enough that it gave him the opening to make his own wealth.

“What entices the people to move to Australia and America is the potential to make new money, to be someone new. You can be a new man in New York.”

Though, perhaps, we have gotten too far ahead of ourselves that we have forgotten the fourth cut of the ruby. The one Eratos kept as he travelled across Europe, across the Roman empire and introduced to the streets of Rome. Eratos had no intention of keeping himself alive. Instead, he spread his legacy, having as many children as he could. Most died before they reached the age of ten, but there were some that fell through the cracks simply because Eratos never interacted with them. The ones who did survive and Eratos did remain in contact with, he turned against the gods and pushed them to become anarchists and rebels. Eratos was on a mission of revenge. Of course, none worked out and all the children he loved fell like toy soldiers, like pawns on a board. Yet Eratos lived on and on, he watched the plague rip through the empire, saw how the changing of the atmosphere could bring an empire to its knees. Yet he lived on.

“Mayhaps it was my own human hubris that let myself survive. A fear of what awaited me when I faced the court of Hades. But perhaps the truth is that I was hoping I could stay alive until I witnessed the Olympians burn as they fall from their thrones.”

It wasn't until the beginning of the Medieval era that Eratos descended into the shadows of the labyrinth, travelling for what seemed like a week. In truth, under the sun, his mission spanned months. Eratos was wanting to hide his cut of the gem away to make sure it stays locked away. It was time. Time to bury his curse and move on, face Hades and Persephone with whatever curse they might have. They killed his love, his mother, his step father. He'd lost his children. He'd seen enough of the world. So he discarded the ring in the corner of a cavern that dripped liquid from no apparent source. The light of the blood red jewel was soon covered in mud and he could barely glimpse the silver band he embedded the jewel into.

Even then, he lived on for he had not given the curse to another person. He had no relinquished his ownership and thus the curse lived on as the years went by. Luck remained on his side as he moved through the years, his features still flush with youth. One might call him the opposite of Dorian Grey for he looked up on his portrait in hopes he had grown older.

“I, like the rubies before me, disappeared into history. I sat upon my throne of emptiness, deserted by human nature, and watched time flow beside me.”

Andrew Gillings was of Danish heritage and had made it to New York through boat. The States were in the midst of the reconstruction era, the period where the union was dissolving the confederacy and pushed for civil rights for the newly freed African-Americans. Whilst often it descended into tension between the Southern states and the northerners, whom they dubbed 'carpetbaggers', it was a relatively experimental and peaceful time that instituted national amendments to what it meant to be an American citizen. Of course, it was a far from perfect era, especially under the confederate sympathiser President Johnson. Yet Harmonia still danced the streets of New Yorke, energised by the reintroduction of the confederacy back into the union, and the revitalisation of the United States. There was around six hundred African-American people involved on both national and state level of legislature. Harmonia was surrounded a by peace that had not been seen for nearly a decade.

Andrew made his money by working in trade, travelling between France and the States, and learnt how to work ships. All the while he argued for the equal rights, that every man should have the right to vote, and spoke to anyone he could. His desire for peace amongst groups was what attracted Harmonia. He was in Central Park, standing on one of the benches and spoke to a small crowd, advocating for harmony amongst the states. Most brushed him off for he was an immigrant and barely twenty five. A young upstart who made his voice louder than those around him desired.

“I had nothing to my name and lived in the docks. My voice was all I had.”

Harmonia courted Andrew, coaxing his ideals and developing his beliefs, she expanded his horizon and brought him out of Harlem to a larger playing ground. He fell in love. Yet he was nothing but a soft spot for her. They lasted a year. They danced and sang, they laughed, and he wrote her letters for every time he travelled over the sea. It was through his career that he met the guard. The two became close. Yet Andrew wanted to give he and Harmonia, who he thought was his future wife, a better life. Andrew knew of the necklace, he saw the sun rise reflecting off it each morning on the board of the ship, and he knew of its worth after a drunken night. Human greed was a fickle thing. Soon he stole the necklace, pushing the man overboard one night, and acted oblivious the next morning. The old guard's death was put down as an accident.

Andrew returned to New York and after a night of reuniting with Harmonia, he presented the necklace. Harmonia was well familiar with cursed necklaces, although of different nature, given to her on her wedding day to Cadmus that was honoured by the presence of all the gods.

“I could feel its darkness when I felt the cold stone against my fingers. There is no harmony and peace wherever that stone travels. Heed my words: discard it.”

Andrew, oblivious to her true reasons, eventually confessed to his reasoning. Saying that he wished to sell it for their future. Harmonia realised that their dalliance had gotten too far between them. So she left the next morning. She left him to walk through the streets in hopes of glimpsing her once more. Yet that could not last and soon he was hired by Benjamin Briggs to board the Mary Celeste, the necklace still dangling off his neck.

“No one would let a countless jewel like that go. Only a fool would let that wealth slip away from him like that.”

Originally christened 'Amazon', the 'Mary Celeste' was already believed to be cursed by the time it landed under the ownership of Benjamin Briggs. Her first captain died of a sudden illness and she rammed into another ship barely a year later. It gained a reputation but Benjamin Briggs bought it regardless. Perhaps it was all the more fitting that housed the ruby when Andrew became second mate. The captain, Benjamin Briggs, was a respected man in his profession. He was reliable and dependable. It was inconceivable that what happened next were to happen under his careful hand.

“The crew is perfectly capable, I am sure of it. Especially if they finish as they have started it.”

Benjamin, Sophia and their infant daughter set sail out of New York with eight other crew members, most having already previously sailed with Benjamin. They were headed towards Italy. No crew member thought much of the strange music that they heard at night. They believed it to be one of the crew members who was playing a trick on them all. Only Andrew found himself distrustful of the music, recognising it as music he danced to with Harmonia. He believed her to be haunting him, her ghost every where he turned. He could not sleep, he tossed and turned, listening to this music that when he left his room, he could not locate. The others thought he was playing a trick-that it was he playing this music. Yet the music continued.

In truth, the ship was a ghost ship where a ruby was embedded in the figurehead. As death plagued the rubies travels, Hades began to be more and more drawn to the events of his lost jewel. He aided in Persephone's punishment of human greed and trapped those who perished inside the stones. With two of the four cuts being so close together, the ghosts began to dance across the main deck, covered in moonlight, as free as they ever have been. They disappeared whenever Andrew walked onto the main deck.

It was the 18th of November, 1872, when Andrew found himself sitting alone on the main deck, surrounded by ghosts who swirled unseen around him. When he descended down into his room he found a baby resting on his bed. A note was tucked into the blankets.

“He is your son, take care of him, ensure he does not inherit the necklace.”

Andrew was accused of hiding him away. Benjamin was inclined to fire him and replace him when they reached port but his wife was inclined to pardon him for now their own child had company for the next few weeks. Andrew was even more so confused. That was Harmonia's hand writing. He was going mad-he had to be. He was going utterly mad. He didn't name the baby, unsure of what to call it. They called him Andy junior for the few days that the baby knew them.

It was on the 20th that the ghosts began to become restless. They wanted freedom and perhaps the death of the ship, the death of Andrew, would free them from the curse for if the owner were to die-then surely the curse will die with it. So they began to appear more and more, whispering into the captain's ear to run. To desert the ship. To crash it into the nearest islands. They whispered into the ears of all those on board and slowly they began to go mad. Voices when they were alone.

“The Devil was upon us. He had entered our good company. Pray for our survival.”

On the 25th of November that Benjamin Briggs made the last log.

The 'Mary Celeste' was to be found seventy hundred and forty kilometres away without a body residing in her hold.

By the twenty fifth, six of the small crew had toppled over the sides, unable to take the voices anymore.

They were making their way to the Azores Island, hoping to take refuge on them. They were the closest sources of land. It was their only option. Andrew stayed alone with his baby boy, who was sleeping peacefully through the chaos around them. However, after they found the body of the first mate dangling off the shrouds, they decided to desert the ship. In one life boat, the six remaining crew members, including the baby, huddled together, with most of the papers Benjamin had written, recounting the strange events.

In their final moments, Andrew tucked the necklace into juniors blankets, he was wrapped in three, that were tightly wrapped. Andrew had grabbed them on their way out. The waters were freezing cold and they were to sure be killed by frostbite if they do not topple into the freezing water.

As luck would have it, they rowed into a brewing storm and with the sight of the Mary Celeste, the ruby reflecting off the moonlight casting a beacon of flickering rays across the ocean, on the horizon. They huddled together but soon the raging water was too much and they toppled overboard. The boat flipping over. Andrew managed to stay afloat whilst the others drowned, sinking down into the dark shadows beneath Andrew's feat. His baby was in his arms and he managed to hang onto the breaking boat. He put the baby on the boat, out of the water, but he held on as tight as he could. He couldn't climb on without fear of toppling them over.

“I had no strength. The freezing waters was seeping through my skin, turning me into ice inside out. That's what it felt like. I died like that with the hopes that perhaps my son could still live.”

The storm eased only a moment later. Andrew's dead fingers could no longer hold onto the boat and they broke off, his body sinking down into Hades cold embrace to be trapped inside the ruby. The boat continued to float, pushed by waves, until a fishing boat came across it. The man on board took one look inside and saw the baby on the verge of death. For the man had just suffered the loss of a child. He was grieving. So when he looked upon that baby, he only said two words:

“Francisco Teodoro.”

Mull was astern, rum on the port, the gods on the starboard bow.
Give me again all that was there, give me the sun that shone.

• The Azores Island
• Ambition
• Wanderings
• Revolution
• Bresk Fortress

Francisco Teodoro's adopted father did not need many things as he grew up. Pablo Teodoro loved his wife, he loved the ocean, he loved his sunsets and sunrises. All that was missing was a child. Yet he and Francesca Teodoro suffered miscarriage after miscarriage. So when the baby boy, damp and cold, with nothing but a ruby necklace to his name, fell right into their lap, neither were inclined to let him go. Francesca nursed him, held him close, and Pablo was content with gutting and cooking the fish for their dinner. They resided in the Azores and he was a simple fisherman. He fished then sold it at the market. That was their wealth. They heard about the Mary Celeste, how it was found by the "Dei Gratia" deserted save for water that had washed overboard and into the open entrances. That a life boat was missing.

“On God's name, may no one come knocking on our door to take my sweet child away from us.”

Alas, no one did. Soon they felt confident enough to take him into the market with them, telling people that Francesca's previous miscarriage was false and that soon she had given birth to this healthy boy. They had wished for privacy to ensure his good health. The arrival of a boy was accepted by the small town residing on that island. Neither Francesca or Pablo were literate and could do little to educate the curious child that they raised. The Azores islands were mostly recovered from the civil war occurring in 1820, though it had waves of ramifications throughout the decades, such as the establishment of the Conselho de Regência of Mary II of Portugal. Yet her death and the death of her two sons, led to the ascension of Luís the first upon the throne by the time Francisco was scampering around the island of San Miguel.

Francisco still had the necklace. It was hidden under a floorboard in his attic. His parents let him keep it, despite its potential benefit to improve their way of life, it was his only connection to his roots. They never confessed to him that he was not their biological son and told him it was a gift that he had to keep safe. Francisco, even as a child, was incredibly serious about staying true to his word.

It was always expected that he would grow up to become a fisherman like his father. As he grew, he helped learn how to gut the fish, he learnt how to steer a boat, he learnt the intricacies of fishing. He could tell the difference between a blue marlin and a yellow fin. Identify the different types of tuna that swum the island's sea. Yet he dreamed of something more. He taught himself how to read through menus and signs. It wasn't a perfect education-far from it but he learnt the basics. Pablo didn't quite know how to curb his son's curiosity. He tried to be strict, but every time Francisco smiled, he melted and he let his child do whatever he wanted. Education was never important in the Azores island, most children left the moment they could, still as illiterate as when they joined. The islands seemed to have been stuck in a time warp, the attitudes wandering behind Western civilisation that was hurdling on to develop the very attitudes that would cause World War One.

Still, Francisco was trapped inside a bubble, blissfully unaware of the political playground that was developing outside of the world. His world was changed when he went to school. The teachers, always so use to children never paying them any attention, were taken off guard by the young boy who asked far too many questions and revered them like gods. His parents nodded along and were moderately confused when he begged to stay in school. He was even upset when the holidays came about. No longer could his nature be controlled by the ships and fish, Francisco found himself drifting off into his own thoughts whenever Pablo tried to discuss something with him.

“It was the foreigner blood in him.”

A teacher, his maths teacher of all people, gifted him books that were far beyond his years and he struggled to get through most of them but he tried. Perhaps she was hoping that he was the reincarnation of Napoleon Bonaparte who was said to have read great thick books even when he was a child. Still, he read and read. He watched the sun set and the sun rise as he let the small blodges of ink fill up his sight and mind. He began to dream of sailing out of the island. He dreamt of becoming someone like Plato. The young boy, barely eight years old, dreamed of even meeting Plato! Francisco was a fish out of water and neither parent knew what to do with him. In the end, they sat back and let him dream. He'd come around eventually. Those dreams will fall down to Earth soon enough.

Being a son of a minor god such as Harmonia, monsters had never been too bothersome for Francisco. The ones that did appear on the islands disappeared by other demigods before they even noticed Francisco. Until one. He was watching the stars through a small hole in the roof as he lay in bed. His father had invited friends over but he was banished upstairs. That was fine with him. They talked of meaningless talk, such as the weather and the sea. Francesca was cooking in the kitchen, feeding the men without a complaint. One of the men was a son of Poseidon. Supposed, with the added flavouring of Francisco's demigod heritage, it was a recipe for disaster. The flesh-eating horses, two of them, broke down the doors and from his perch, Francisco watched the horse rip open the adult's stomachs. Then he hid under his blankets. It was all a bad dream.

The monsters were killed by the old son of Poseidon but not without leaving terror in their wake. He stood above the bodies of his friends. The only family he had. It wasn't until he heard the light sobs whispering out of the alcove did he realise. He was not alone. It took a while for the demigod to coax Francisco out of that bed. He was not his parents.

“This is no place for a boy.”

The commotion had brought curious neighbours to their door and soon the house swarmed with officials and medics. A freak animal attack. Francesca survived, though. She was knocked out and delirious when she awoke but her heart still pulsed. Francisco left the house with nothing but his necklace and a book and cradled it to his chest. He stayed at the small hospital beside his mother's bed. He was always tranquillo but not like this. Francisco, until he heard his mother's voice, was mute. The rebuilding of their lives was difficult. People gave them charity money for a while but they could not live on that. Pablo was the man of the house, the main income, and Francisco was his heir. Francesca began to urge Francisco to turn away from his education that he began to use as his escape. They could only stay in the friend's house for slong.

Yet his teacher had other plans. She made him do exams for an elite military school on the mainland and he was accepted. Colégio Militar was a military high school founded in 1803 and has been one of the most prestigious schools in the country. It has birthed five presidents over the centuries and countless military figures. Francisco was accepted on the basis of a scholarship.

Francisco saw his way out.

He took it.

He pleaded with his mother.

She said no.

She could not stop him.

Francisco snuck onto a boat travelling to the mainland, with nothing but clothes, the necklace, his acceptance letter and a book of Plato. He ran way, his eyes on that school, and nothing would stop him. Not even his own mother.

All that was good, all that was fair.
All that was me is gone.

• Persephone's Forgiveness
• His Search
• The Rubies Destruction
• A Safe Haven

Glory of youth glowed in his soul,
Where is that glory now?

Weapons

TBD

Trivia

Give me the eyes, give me the soul
Give me the lad that's gone.