Oracle

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What am I doing here?

It was not the first time Gil Perez had asked himself the question, and the answer that always bubbled up in his mind was no more satisfying this time.

You have to be somewhere. Is this really so terrible?

In truth, his situation was not terrible by any stretch of the imagination. He had a place to live, a salary, he never wanted for food, and he even had a purpose, albeit not the one he had imagined when he had chosen the life of a soldier.

Therein lay the problem. As a boy, he craved adventure. The thought of becoming a laborer, scratching out a hard, miserable existence, had been utterly repulsive to him. He dreamed of escaping a life of drudgery, journeying across the seas to fight bravely in the King’s service, and finding fortune and romance. What better way to start down that path than by trading the plow for the sword? He had run away from home and joined the army, expecting to immediately be whisked away to some far off land. The conquest of New Spain had only just begun, and everywhere there were rumors of a rich but wild land, where savages worshipped demon gods and gold flowed in the rivers.

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