The cool winds began to blow, signifying the beginning of fall. While all slowed to a calm demeanor outside; inside, a woman found herself screaming at the top of her lungs, tossing her head from side to side, clawing at the bloody sheets of her bed. It was the end of a most trying pregnancy. They say the first is always the toughest. Her pain ended hours later with three simple words: “It’s a boy.”
Isaac Hawkins was a most decorated soldier in the King’s Army. While returning home one night from routine orders, he found himself in an unfamiliar alleyway on London’s lower end. He was vaguely familiar with the area. They said there were only two things that could be found here: cheap ale and cheaper women. Isaac was disoriented and admittedly a bit lost. That’s when he saw her. Her eyes were soft; her words gentle and kind. Seeming to be an angel appearing from thin air, she offered to “help” the lost soldier find his way back to camp. She managed to sweet talk her way into his pockets and, eventually, into his bed. After a dizzying night of passion and ecstasy, Isaac awoke to a cold, empty bed and nothing to remember this mysterious stranger by but the name she whispered into his ear. “Mary.” He cursed himself for being so foolish and managed to return to his camp in the morning and never told the story to anyone as he tried to forget the entire ordeal himself.
As a child, Christopher never wondered about his father’s absence as he was never left wanting for a male influence in his life. His mother always made sure he was clothed and fed, but most of all loved. Every night, she would kiss his forehead and sing him to sleep before going to “work.” His days were spent with a young woman he referred to as Nurse Anne, who played games with him, told him stories and generally educated him. Because his mother’s earnings went directly to food, clothing and other necessities, there was never enough to send him to school. But young Christopher didn’t care about such things. He thoroughly enjoyed his home life and never wanted to leave.
But the lower end of London was no place to raise a child. No, it was more of an end than a beginning for those who found themselves there. Feeling horrible for the position she had forced her innocent son into, Mary saved for many years to send him to a proper school within the city where he could learn and make something of himself. When Christopher was twelve, she had done it.
To put it simply, Christopher hated that school. The children teased him because of his tattered clothes and disheveled appearance. What little friends he could manage to make were torn away from him because their parents felt that he came from “bad blood.” He was ostracized, ridiculed and humiliated day in and day out for just being who he was. If children weren’t laughing to his face, the teachers were whispering behind his back. Every night, he cried himself to sleep within his dormitory; wishing things could go back to the way the way they were. It was at this school that Christopher began to wonder about his father. Where was he? Why had he left a woman with a child and no money? What had become of him? At age sixteen, he knew what he had to do. He left the school and went in search of his father.
His search brought Christopher out of England and into France. It was only by a stroke of luck that someone had placed his strange accent and last name. They asked if the boy was part of the army. Figuring this would lead him to his father, he said yes.
Before he knew it, he had unwittingly enlisted in France’s army. The men here were different. Unlike the children at his English school, they immediately accepted Christopher for the person he was, not where he came from. He was able to shed the dark shell of his past and become a whole new person; uninhibited – boisterous, if you will. He enjoyed the comradeship he found among fellow soldiers and proved to flourish in training activities. His eyesight was so keen that a friend gave him the nickname “Hawkeye.” The name was deemed fitting and stuck to Christopher. He never forgot his mission, though: to seek out his father.
It would be two years before he learned that his father had died in battle while Christopher was just a baby. The commanding officers couldn’t believe Isaac Hawkins had had a son. From their stories, the young man learned his father was an honorable, respectable man and soldier. Those who worked close with his father agreed that Isaac would never abandon any child he fathered, no matter who the mother was. This finally closed the missing chapter in Christopher’s life. His heart was as peace and for the first time in years, he slept soundly through the night.
Years later, his duty lead him to Romaera. He was a young man about twenty or so, newly promoted to the position of Captain. Hawkeye and a small group of soldiers were sent to protect the rapidly growing town as the infamous Clock Tower and Cathedral had brought tourists from all corners of France and the population was growing faster than resources allowed. Rather than barging in with a list of rules and regulations for the people, the Captain took to getting to know the people on a personal level. This gained him the two things he needed to keep order: adoration and respect. Given his likeability, the people appointed him as their Voice. He graciously accepted, knowing that he served them and not vice versa.
Yes, the Captain and his men found a home in Romaera and unanimously opted to stay even after things were stable. Everyone loved him. Well… Nearly everyone. Captain Hawkeye has a true enemy in Father LeCroix. During the two’s first meeting, it was clear to him that LeCroix looked down on the Captain. Somehow, LeCroix had found out about Christopher’s past in England – about his mother. It would seem that LeCroix feels as though the lovable Captain is sinful and “unclean,” due to his mother’s sins. And he never lets him forget it. It is the Captain’s supreme hope that the two-faced Father will be shown for what he truly is and pay for what he has done to the people.
.:~o*'Kaylyn'*o~:.
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