Speranza

Speranza


    In the early sixteenth century, the discovery of the "new world" was still the main topic of interest, particularly the rumored riches. The city-state of Venice, which was once a flourishing power, had been suffering a decline, partly due to a plague that had ravaged the country, yet mainly because of increasing pressure from rival city-states during what would become known as the Italian Wars. In an attempt to curb this, increase their influence, and gain prosperity through rumored gold, the monarchs of Venice hired a group of willing explorers, one among them who was named Cristoforo DeGeusto, to travel to this new land.
    Cristoforo was a typical Italian man, of an average 5'10, with dark brown hair and eyes, an aquiline  nose, and sported a moustache-goatee combo. During his early childhood, he was renowned for his desire to know the world around him, a desire which he kept with him until adulthood. Naturally, he leaped at such an opportunistic chance to explore the unknown.
    The monarchs, wishing to spend as little money as possible, chartered a private merchant ship, La Speranza, to provide transportation. Its captain was Eduardo Parod, a large Portuguese man, who was a skilled seaman and part-time trader, having learned many of the techniques that brought such success to Portugal. His trading business, however, was suffering, and he gladly accepted the payment that would be received for transporting the explorers and the soldiers, who were also hired mercenaries.

                              *       * *

    Christoforo stood at the prow of La Speranza, leaning on the guardrail, chin resting on his arms. His attire was hardly inconspicuous, him succumbing to the rather garish fashion of the time. On his head he wore a dark beret, and a green tunic. His tights were multi-colored, the left leg being the same color as his tunic, and the right one a light green. The sleeves were of the same color as the legs, but inversed. On his belt was a sheathed dagger. He had been sailing for well over a month now, and was very tired of it. Tired of the food, tired of the constant motion, tired of the tight spaces, but mostly, tired of the sailors.
    Over the past month, Christoforo had been an unwilling witness to countless brawls, often resulting in a broken nose, or bloody loss of teeth. Christoforo sighed, recounting a particularly brutal match between the bosun, Karcsi, a scrawny yet feisty eastern man, and a Spanish cook, Alejandro. The argument began when Karcsi accused Alejandro of shortening his charges' rations while he gorged himself. Alejandro tried to keep the argument civil, but to no avail as Karcsi was driven on by the encouraging shouts of onlookers. The diminutive bosun tackled the larger cook, knocking him off his feet and into a crowd of sailors, who promptly joined the brawl. This escaladed until the entire quarterdeck was in uproar. Luckily, it ended before anyone was killed, though there were severe injuries, when Eduardo, the captain, appeared.
    "Oi, what are you doing alone up here?"  
Christofo, shocked out of his reverie, turned to see the jovial captain himself walking towards him. Speak of the devil.
    "Ah, I was just, uh, recalling the fond memories of this voyage."
    "Ah-Hah! I knew you'd love the sea life!!" Eduardo laughed, slapping Christoforo hard on the back.
    "Yes," Christoforo grimaced while rubbing the hit spot, "well, putting my 'love' of the sea aside, how much longer do you expect it to take before we find land?"
Eduardo stopped grinning for a moment in surprise, then just as quickly said, grin coming back in full, "You don't know? Why, land has been spotted hours ago." He fingered a small scar on his left cheek, "I guess I forgot to tell you. Ah well, I can't change the past, now can I? I expect to make it to land this time next week."
    "Next week?" Christoforo groaned inwardly, "Yes, well I suppose that gives me more time to enjoy the scenery, eh?" He said with a weak smile.
    "Haha, that's the spirit!" Eduardo laughed, clipping Christoforo on the shoulder again. Christoforo halfheartedly laughed along with the jovial captain, screaming all the while on the inside.

                               * * *

    Christoforo sat arms crossed, eyes closed in a musky cabin on the aft end of the ship, listening to the leader of the expedition, Pedro Estravis, a Portuguese explorer of some renown, outline the plan of action now that La Speranza had reached land. In the cabin there were six independent explorers hired by the Venice royalty, Christoforo included. There were four Italians; Christoforo, tanned Riccardo of Sicily, tall and silent Michele of Rome, and rotund Lucas of Tuscany. The sixth explorer was a young Czech man who hoped to make a name for himself, Jiří Čech.
    "Alright, from what we've heard from the settlers, it seems like we've landed on a peninsula in the south, just north of Isla Juana ." Pedro looked up from the parchment he was reading, "We need to be careful; the Spanish are here and I doubt they'll like competition for gold."
    "So the Spanish got here first, eh?" Riccardo said, leaning forward "Sounds interesting. Know who leads them?"
    "We don't know yet, however it is rumored to be some nobleman."
    "So he has access to greater funds, eh?" Lucas said thoughtfully, "I suppose he will be a problem…" He trailed off and continued looking at the map purchased from some earlier settlers, deep in thought. Michele came to the table to examine the map as well, keeping his thoughts to himself.
    "Do we have a general idea of his location," Christoforo asked, finally joining the conversation, "So that we can avoid him?"
     "A general location, you say? Not that I recall." Pedro leaned back in his armchair, deep in thought, until he began mumbling in an almost incomprehensible way, "What if…no…risks involved…profit…" He continued mumbling for awhile, and had his eyes closed. He sat motionless for a few minutes mumbling non-stop.
    "Uh…sir?" Jiří asked tentatively, leaning forward to get a better look at the Portuguese man's face, "Is everything fine?"
    Pedro snapped an eye open, startling poor Jiří who promptly fell onto his back. Completely disregarding his fallen comrade, Pedro stood up, slamming his palms onto the desk, and said with renewed enthusiasm, "Right, this is what we'll do! Christofo, Riccardo, you two take a score of men to scout the area. Find any good territory you can, and claim it in the name of Venice."
    "Yes sir!" Riccardo said enthusiastically.
    "Yes sir…" Christoforo sighed, not bothering to listen to the rest of the plan. Out of all the people in the world, why was I paired with the hyperactive Mediterranean man?

                                * * *

    Jiří stood looking at the marshland before him and his companion, Michele. They were assigned to move south, while Christoforo and Riccardo go west. Lucas was assigned to move north, while Pedro would remain and set about making a base camp.
Jiří and Michele had been traveling south with their twenty men for a few hours already, and had discovered no signs of the Spanish, though they had come across a few isolated local tribes, all of whom warned against traveling west. Just as well, Jiří thought, at least I don't have to deal with whatever is inland. Christoforo and Riccardo just lacked my luck is all.
    Currently, the group was stopping to take a break after a three hour long hike through the rather treacherous terrain they had encountered so far; the land was soft, and one could easily fall and injure oneself. They had been resting for awhile, and it wouldn't be long before they start moving again.
    "Hey, stop daydreaming; we've got to get moving." Jiří jumped at Michele's words. Though Jiří wouldn't admit it, there was no doubt that Michele was in charge of this group, both by experience and charisma. Ah yes, like I thought. Fine, I'll follow you for now, but beware your thirst, my friend, he thought, glancing at the canteen the other man had.
    "A-ah yes, sorry about that, Michele! I'll be right over." Grabbing his bag that he left on a nearby rock, he jogged up to the main group. Inside his bag were his tools of the trade; a knife, a pestle and mortar, a bottle to hold concoctions, and a bag of ground nightshade.

                                * * *

    Lucas stood beaming at the distance they had traveled: a good amount of land by any comparison, especially considering the terrain. There were steep hills with little footholds, and there was mud aplenty. Judging by the humidity and gathering clouds, Lucas could predict that a storm was likely to form. Better get back before it does, Lucas thought to himself, recalling the previous time he had ventured out in the middle of a storm.
    "Right lads, let's head back," he said, motioning with his hand, "looks like the weather will be picking up soon, and I'd rather not be caught up in it." Without waiting for a reply, Lucas turned back, and began the arduous journey back to camp. It did not take long before he realized that the squad was not following. In fact, they all stood still, their faces grim.
    Worried, Lucas inquired, "Is everything alright?" Unexplainably, Lucas began feeling apprehensive, "If there's anything wrong, please don't hesitate to tell me." He began sweating, but not from the humidity.
    A few of the soldiers shared glances, a significant one exchanged between the two leaders of this group. The older one, apparently the leader said, "I'm sorry sir, but we have orders from the higher ups."
    "Higher ups? What higher ups?" Lucas had never before dealt with a mutiny, if this could be called that. In all truth, he was terrified, but being an experienced explorer, he reigned in his fear so he could calmly assess the situation; ten of the twenty men had their guns pointed at him. The others were spread out, observing the surrounding terrain. All that would be needed is a small distraction, and he could escape. Think, is there anything around here I could use… "You don't mean the monarchs of Venice?"
"No, of course not. Those fools can't figure out that the world is round, let alone think of a betrayal. No, we were hired by," The younger man stopped with a grunt as the older one elbowed him in the stomach.
"Quiet," the older man glared at the younger, "they wished to remain anonymous. Now then, sir, please come quietly."
    Lucas glanced at the younger one, mind working quickly, comparing the benefits of surrendering or escaping. The young one is overconfident. I could easily glean information from him. The older one would be trouble. If I go with them, my chances of survival are higher. "Alright then, I'll go quietly."
    The leader, visibly relieved, ordered Lucas to be bound. As he was being tied up, Lucas glanced at the young man, and thought, I hope this is the right choice.

                               * * *

    Christoforo couldn't hold back his grin as he trudged through the marshlands, trying to take in all he could of his surroundings. Now that he finally had the opportunity to stretch his legs and explore, he became far more amiable and easygoing, going so far as to laugh at a few comments made by his easily excitable companion.
    The going had been rather easy, if dirty. They had been walking on plains for awhile, before they reached the marshlands, home to some rather exotic creatures that Christoforo could not identify, and some that he could, but would rather not be there. Regardless, Christoforo was thoroughly enjoying himself.
    Their mission was to find good land to claim. While the lands were wet, they would be good for farming, provided they were worked upon. Riccardo had wanted to turn back once they had reached the wetlands, but Christoforo would have none of it, wanting to go as far as possible before nightfall. Though truth be told, Christoforo thought, glancing at the setting sun, I probably did let my enthusiasm overtake me.
    It was then that Christoforo noticed a line of trees, marking the beginning of a forest. He stopped short, barked out a laugh, then whistled and waved to call the attention of his group.
    Riccardo returned his wave, and picked up his pace to reach Christoforo. "What's up?" he said when he finally arrived.
    Christoforo pointed, "With that many trees, the ground should be solid. What do you say we camp there for the night? We can send a runner back to main camp to inform them."
    Riccardo, displaying his unusual habit of scratching when thinking said, "Hmm, well, I suppose we could do that. But I feel it'd be better if we go back to base ourselves, then set out again by Pedro's orders."
    "Yes, I considered Pedro as well. But, I have the feeling we're about to come upon something. I just can't give up this search yet!"
    "Well, look at you, getting all excited. Alright then, we'll go with your plan, but don't blame me if Pedro wants to hang you by your toes."
    "Oh, I assure you, my toes are safe. These boots cost me a fortune."
They both had a laugh at that, and continued west with their soldiers, completely missing the smoke rising from within.

                                * * *

    Michele cursed his luck as he fell into the mud for the fifth time. Getting up, he recounted in his mind yet again what happened a few hours before; When they found a rather large lake, half of their group began opening fire upon the other half. A good number of men died from the surprise attack, but quickly regained their composure and fired back. Michele himself had killed two men, one of whom was the young explorer from Czech, who Michele shared command with. He apparently was a traitor, and assassin at that; the little rat had poisoned his water, it seemed. Though Michele managed to down some of the antidote, he was still feeling very ill and weak, wondering if he would survive. Though the smaller man was apt with a blade, Michele was skilled in his own right.
    One of the remaining soldiers helped Michele get up, "Sir, are you alright? You were poisoned, and I worry for your health. Perhaps you should rest w-"
    "Absolutely not! I'm not about to sit around while the expedition leader is in danger! I'll rest after I warned Pedro!"
    The soldier nodded, a look of concern on his face, "Very well then, sir, we will move on."
    "Good, then let's move on." Shaking off the supporting hands, Michele set off in a brusque pace, grimacing the entire while. The soldiers didn't have it in them to tell him that he was headed in the wrong direction, so they just sighed, and followed.
    Night had already fallen, the temperature with it, but that would not stop Michele of Rome, dedicated to his duty. After reading the instructions given to the lead soldier, Michele was infuriated; the Spanish had bought out their mercenaries, and planned on selling the explorers back to Venice. Not only would that cripple Venetian colonization efforts, but it would also set them back in money. Doubtless this would put an end to Venice's American exploration.
    Though he was hurrying, Michele feared it may be too late; did the Spanish already capture Pedro and take control of the base camp? What of the other explorers, were they unharmed? Or worse yet, were they sellouts like the boy from Czech?
    None of this sat well with Michele, who was an honorable man. Why would people betray their employers for more money? Worse yet, why would anyone kill because of money? He had to hurry, else his mission would fail, something that he would not allow.

                                * * *

    Lucas sat sullenly in the hull of La Speranza, looking at his cuffed, clasped hands. In the end, he had been unable to get any information whatsoever from the soldiers who captured him. By the time night had fallen, he was back at the base camp, which had been overrun by the apparent mutiny. Pedro had apparently managed to rally together an armed guard of the troops before being executed along with his group.
    Why is this happening? What possibly could their motivation be? Though those two were rhetorical; this was a coup, and the motivation was money. Though he had been unable to garner any information, what he had observed and heard was enough. It was obvious that these mercenaries were hired out by some power. Doubtless, the only reason they would betray royalty is because they were hired out by royalty, one that would have an interest in this new land. And what country has a greater interest than Spain, first to arrive?
    It was enough to make him go berserk. These mercenaries slaughtered the lesser trained Venetians, and routed them quickly. The crew of La Speranza had gone without a fight, surprising though it may seem. They may be bold when it comes to fists, but when a gun is involved, they stay away. Not that I blame them.
As all this was going through his head, Lucas noticed a fault in the chain binding him to the wall. Upon further inspection, it appeared that the chain was of very poor quality. Poor enough that a certain explorer could break it.
    Before he had an opportunity to see if he could break it, he heard footsteps coming closer. Lucas didn't bother looking up, as the only light coming into the storage room they used as a jail cell was coming from a small window above his head.
The door creaked open, spilling firelight into the room. The Jailor, a tall, muscular man, shoved another man, who landed with an "Oof" into room. Without bothering to chain him or anything, the Jailor turned, and closed the door, leaving without a word.
    The other man, a well muscled squat man, got up, and brushed himself off. He took stock of the room before turning his attention to Lucas. "Oi, you alright?" From his voice, Lucas could tell it was the captain of the ship, Eduardo.
    "Yes, I am, though I can ask the same of you. The Jailor wasn't exactly gentle to you there."
    "Perhaps, but that ain't enough to rattle ol' Eduardo Parod." Eduardo said, his iconic grin firmly in place.
    Lucas smiled in return, and with a great heave, put pressure on the fault, and broke the chain binding him, shocking Eduardo. Lucas stood, and stretched. "Ahh, it feels good to no longer be chained. Not a lot of good it does me though."
Eduardo was quick to recover from the shock and said, "I wouldn't be so quick to say that." From his clothes, he produced an iron ring holding keys.
    Lucas immediately recognized them as the keys the Jailor had. "How did you get those?"
    "Let's just say, a sailor needs to know some skills to survive."
    "But won't the jailor realize he's missing the keys?"
    "Don't worry, he already knows. See, he's one of my lads."
    "B-but,"
    "No more questions; follow me. We're taking back my ship."
    Stunned, Lucas just nodded and followed.

                                * * *

    Christoforo laughed nervously at the comment made by the Spanish commander who had captured his group. "Well," he said, trying to bring out his renowned silver tongue, "You see, we aren't here to take your land, perchance. My lord and lady just wish to know of the world beyond the sea."
    The Spanish commander, a middle-aged, lean man with tanned skin snorted at that, "And I suppose they also wanted you to bring back some items traded with the locals, learn about their heritage?"
    "Well, not quite sir, but st-"
    "Enough." The Spaniard stood, and signaled to one of the guards, "Take them away. I've heard enough of them. Honestly, first the Brits and now the Venetians. Who next, the Russians?"
    The guard dutifully ordered the others to take the bound Christoforo and company to the cells. By pure happenstance, Christoforo had discovered a Spanish fort hidden among the trees, and the Spaniards were not very welcoming hosts.
    The fort was a small one, newly built, yet sturdy. Obviously, it was meant as an outpost for some grander expedition. Obviously, that did not sit well with Christoforo, who began to worry about his companions at the base camp. Speaking of companions, Riccardo had lost his tongue for his rather…elaborate thoughts on the Spanish capturing them. He now trailed sullenly after them, his guard having to occasionally nudge him along.
    Luckily, no lives had been lost when the Spaniards ambushed Christoforo's group only minutes before, in the dead of night. They came out of the forest like phantoms, quickly subduing the lookouts. After taking down the lookouts, it was easy capturing the still sleeping soldiers.
    The commander of the fort had not taken kindly to Italian explorers so close to his wall. While he had yet to decide what to do with them, Christoforo could tell from his attitude that it would not be pretty. Instead, Christoforo and his companions would just enjoy the comforts of cells.
    Just as they were about to exit the room, a young man came rushing in, "Sir! We've found a group wandering through the woods!" As he breathlessly said that, said group was brought in, among them was Michele, who was breathing heavily, and sweating profusely.
    Michele's haggard appearance startled all in the room; it was apparent that he was near death. The commander recovered quickly, and ordered the poisoned man be taken to the medics.
    As he passed Christoforo, Michele whispered, "Betrayed by Spanish, going to lose home base," and slipped the orders Jiří possessed into Christoforo's pocket with surprising deftness for a man so ill. After which, Michele allowed the guards to guide him out of the room. Christoforo considered pulling the paper out now, but thought better of it, as he could not do it discreetly enough to avoid notice.
    After the group's departure, the commander turned his attention away from the door back to the captives, "Well, what are you waiting for, take them to the cells. I just hope that this group will be more informative." He glanced at the new arrivals, the only survivors of Michele's group. "You are dismissed," he told the leader of the soldiers holding Christoforo's group.

                               * * *

    Christoforo gaped at the paper in his hands, unable to believe what he just read. According to the note, handwritten by a noble born Spaniard, the hapless young explorer from Eastern Europe was really a seasoned assassin. Not only that, but he was hired to sabotage the entire operation! If what Michele said was true, Christoforo thought, horrified, then the betrayal has already begun. But what can I do?
    Suddenly, an idea struck him. He called out to the guard, "Excuse me, sir, but do you have some pen and paper? I wish to continue my journal." The guard, who evidently was suffering from lack of sleep, stared at him for a moment through squinted eyes, grunted, then left. Hopefully to get some paper, Christoforo thought grimly.
    He returned a moment later bearing the requested items . Christoforo gladly accepted them with thanks, and began his plan; he would alter the original letter to make it seem that the group of Spaniards meant to attack the men working for Venice was truly traitorous, and intended to take this fort next. While for a normal letter, this would be next to impossible, the orders were left intentionally vague in the case that the bearer was taken by enemies. This requires the reader to infer much, making it so much easier to leave hints so as to change the overall meaning.
    When he finished altering the orders, he put the pen down, and leaned back in the chair that was so kindly provided with a sigh. All that was left now was to let the ink dry before taking it to th-
    His thoughts were cut short by a door slamming open. A stern-eyed guard looked over the group in the cell, then said, "You all, come. The Commander wishes to speak with you."
    As the others were filing out, Christoforo carefully hid the paper behind his back, under the pretense of clasping his hands. The guards didn't seem to notice, and the group began the ascent to the meeting chamber.

                                * * *

    Pedro grimaced as he hid behind a tree just outside the camp. The attack was completely unexpected; a few hours ago, Lucas returned with his group, the first of any of the groups. Though he hadn't suspected anything at the time, hindsight allowed Pedro to see that Lucas was a captive, from the nervous, jerky way he moved, to the way his eyes darted from one "companion" to the next, to the way he was sweating even though his breathing was even.
    Soon after he had returned, Lucas requested access to the ship, which was odd, considering he had full permission beforehand. Half his group went with him, the others melded into the camp scene. That was when the battle began.
Shouts were heard coming from the ship, along with gunfire and screams of pain.   Simultaneously, one of the traitorous men set a few tents on fire. A number of  Pedro's own men proved to be traitors as well, relentlessly gunning down the unprepared former colleagues.
    Pedro had managed to seize the control of the situation, showing yet again his ability to adapt to any trouble. He had gathered as many soldiers as he could, and had some gather supplies while others would provide a distraction. The plan had worked, but at the cost of many lives.
    Now with supplies, the smaller group of survivors headed out to the woods, and set about making themselves oblivious to the group of traitors. This was where Pedro currently rested, staring intently at the camp that used to be under his control. How was he supposed to take his camp back?
    In his current situation, it would be best to utilize guerilla warfare, attacking the foe unseen, and then moving away from the scene undetected. There certainly were enough trees to hide behind, but his men would likely tire quickly, since they were already exhausted from the day building the camp. Not only that, but the superior numbers that the enemy po-
    His thoughts were cut short as he heard gunfire in the distance. He watched from his vantage point, observing the camp suddenly burst into a flurry of activity, with many of the men running to the western part of the camp. Since it was still night, Pedro could see flashes of the gunfire coming out from the woods. It must be one of my groups, Pedro thought in alarm, Michele or Christoforo! But, how could they know about the betrayal? Then it dawned on him, They were betrayed too!
    Quickly gathering his men, Pedro began to skirt the camp, heading toward the gunfire in the distance, hoping beyond hope that it was friendly.

                                       * * *

    Christoforo sat on his borrowed horse, watching Spaniards die by the dozen. They had managed to cover the distance between the fort and the came so quickly because they were on horseback. It had gone exactly as Christoforo had planned; the commander was rightly outraged by the altered letter, and ordered his troops to quell the uprising. Christoforo also managed to skillfully persuade the commander to give him and his men, along with Michele and his men, freedom, under the grounds that it would be unwise for the Spanish to begin yet another war against yet another country.
    They had also been given leave to travel with the group, and were briefed, if only partially, about the plan, or rather, their part in it; they were to take La Speranza away from the traitors, preventing any hope of them escaping. Just the same, this was exactly what Christoforo had planned.
    Now, however, it is time for action, Christoforo thought. Quickly gathering the men, including a recovering Michele, they went around the camp, staying out of sight. They hoped to reach the sea through the trees, then take the ship by surprise. Unfortunately, they would have to leave behind any good, loyal men who were captured during the uprising, but as cruel as it sounded, they had to escape at all costs.
    It was now that Christoforo ran face to face with Pedro. "Wha, Pedro!?"
Just at the same time, Pedro said in a surprised tone to match Christoforo's, "Christoforo? Are those your men?" he indicated with his head that he meant the gunfire in the distance.
    "Well, not exactly. You see, those are Spaniards."
    "Spaniards? What are they doing here?"
    "It's a long story. First, though, we have to reach the ship."
Pedro nodded, and informed Christoforo that he and his men were at the former's command. Christoforo looked over Pedro's bunch; they wore torn clothing and looked ragged and shocked, as expected from survivors of a betrayal. On their backs, each carried a bag, probably of supplies. Christoforo nodded, then outlined the plan.


Epilogue

    So, Christoforo and his group managed to evade the traitors for the most part, and quickly took down any who discovered them. They managed to reach their ship and, to their surprise, Eduardo and Lucas had managed to take back control of the ship.   Lucas himself was also surprised; apparently, he was told by the traitors that Pedro and his men were captured and executed. This was no doubt a ploy to make the situation seem bleak to Lucas, dissuading any attempt of escape.
    They spent the next few months travelling along the coastline, gathering whatever supplies they could. When the captain believed they had enough, they set sail east, to return to Venice. The voyage itself had no details of note.
When they eventually reached Venice, Christoforo retold the tale to the Monarchs, who decided that Venice would unfortunately be unable to participate in the colonization of the Americas. The news of the betrayal, however, greatly disturbed them. At the same time, they would be unable to seek reparation from Spain, as tensions were rising yet again between the states of Italy, and another battle appeared to be looming in the distance.
    Michele successfully recovered from the poison, but not completely; he would be forced to walk with a limp. The handicap was one that could be lived with, but his exploration days were over. Though asked, he would not tell his comrades what he would do now, and silent as ever, returned to his native Rome.
    The noble who had originally arranged for the betrayal was taken into custody. Christoforo's forged letter was used as evidence in the trial, and the man's own ambitions betrayed him, as he seemed the type likely to betray the monarchy. Though he had actually acted for Spain, he was hung for treason.
    Riccardo, who burned with anger against the Spanish, joined the Venetian military in the hopes that he would combat the Spanish. Though this would not happen, he would rise through the ranks, despite his lack of speech. At the same time, Lucas, who had already had a fruitful life of adventure, decided to retire to his villa in Tuscany, much to the joy of his wife and children.
    Christoforo, whose thirst for adventure was not yet sated, decided to form a partnership with Pedro and Eduardo, and work as explorers for Portugal. They would be successful, though not in explorations of the west, but rather, the east. They would see many wondrous sights together, meet fascinating Asian cultures, and bring about, along with other explorers, closer relations between the East and the West.



The End