Yes [Early Ending]

Despite your big dreams, your brush with **** in the last battle has weighed heavily on your mind. For the first time, you've truly felt mortal, and the sense of youthful adventure you once had has receded. You've gained some good stories, a woman, a bit of war booty, and a guaranteed safe post. Why not quit while ahead? First thing the next day, you speak to Cortes and accept the post. He makes the obligatory statements about missing you, then returns to his affairs.

In a short time the army moves on, and you remain with a handful of soldiers. It is a slow, and often frustrating process readying the town to serve as a supply post for the expedition. You build some minor fortifications and make the natives know what their new duties to the Spanish crown are. You also organize the men to patrol for potential hostilities, and lead many yourself. Once that is done, however, there is little else to do but wait for orders. Many days pass, and you make a home for yourself in the area. After many a night together, your native war bride, whom you've come to know is named Cihuaton, has fallen pregnant.

Over time, amazing stories reach you of the expedition. While a part of you is regretful for missing out on the adventures, you do enjoy your quiet life. You've come to be recognized as something of a sort of mayor to the town, and are certainly the most distinguished man in the area. Your wife has come to love you, especially after seeing your new status. By the time your first child with Cihuaton is born, you've practically forgotten about the rest of the world.

One day, you wake from your bed to meet a man bearing a letter. Upon reading it, you are greatly shocked and saddened to learn that your father has passed, and the family lands now belong to you. For many days you grieve, for you loved your father earnestly. But, sometimes cold business is the most helpful thing in passing the days. Since land thousands of miles away is no good to you, you deed them to your bastard son born from Juana, formally recognizing him as you own. You stop writing for a moment to you look at your brood of sleeping mestizo children, and you hope he lives a good life without his father.