Name: Francis Orin Ortiz

Francis Orin Ortiz the third was what they called him as a child. Born into the house of Ortiz, he was a grandson of Francis Orin Ortiz the second, the Duke of Trio, and great great great grandson of Francis Orin Ortiz the first, who all who valued their lives referred to as your majesty.

A lot can happen in 5 generations. The Ortiz dynasty never went down in a blaze of glory; it had been more a fizzle of mediocrity. The great wealth of his namesake provided every panda comfort for the princes and princesses that followed. Their courts consisted of celebrities, and their conquests became banquets and brothels, barely noticing when none succeeded the great Ortiz the First as a king.

A distantly related great uncle of theirs somehow managed to skip them all and rise to the throne. When they heard the news, they feared, not for their family line but for their lavish lifestyles. The new king ensured that these rightful heirs received even more incredible comforts, and they all soon bowed to their new benefactor.

Francis Orin Ortiz the third, was unsure why his parents had chosen this loaded name to be his. Was it for some internal longing to return to greatness or just a way to impress lesser houses? The latter seemed more likely. There was no drive to be more, only to consume more.

His family’s favorite pastime was slow voyages to nearby planets to visit the estates of other nobility. These massive spaceships would cruise at speeds slightly above stopped, while the passengers aboard would engage in the few acts of debauchery not legal on Triohiri.

On one such voyage, the 13th for young Francis in his first 12 years, he was hiding in his cabin trying to drown out the sounds of the party outside that terrified and aroused him equally. He heard, and felt, some kind of bomb go off. Screams of terror that were only slightly different from the screams of pleasure moments before filled the ship. Francis tried to hide under his bed, but his 12 years of the Triohiri diet made that impossible.

His door was kicked down, and pirates stormed his room, weapons raised. He thought quickly before shouting, “I know the code to the safe!” Weapons were lowered and eyebrows raised.

The following decades were spent in the same line, using his wits and charm to be of value to those around him. This philosophy secured his safety and then slowly brought him his riches. He was never a fraction as rich as his family before him, though, with the perspective of time and distance, he never longed for that “life.”He found satisfaction in the adventure of it all.

Until he met her.

That day on the frozen tundra when she snuck aboard his ship and nearly killed his entire crew. He saw true honest beauty in its purest form. In the days between that destined encounter and their next port, he dreamed of the future they’d have together. With her as his pirate queen by his side, he would become pirate king of the entire galaxy.

She snuck out the moment the ship landed without saying goodbye.

Days before he’d met her, he was satisfied with his lot in life, which he now didn’t even want to live, with her gone. The years following were spent searching for her and trying to forget her.

He’d never given up the search, though he’d certainly given up all hope when one day he stumbled upon a breached ship dead in space. He expected an easy haul of some abandoned metals, some smuggled goods, or maybe even gold.

He dropped in, his crew seconds behind him, to see the only thing he did not expect, her.

She stood, both hands outstretched, one silenced blaster pointed at a calm cat, another silenced blaster pointed at a giant alpaca. They both had weapons focused back at her. A small robed rodent stood on the table, gentle urging the 3 to put down their weapons.

Tears streamed from her eyes.