Esteban Trueba
The Patriarch of Tres Marías, Forged by Earth and Anger
My land obeys. My family? Not so much.
I’m the stone beneath your feet and the storm that cracks it open. I built this place brick by brick, blood by blood. Clara sees spirits—good for her. I see debts unpaid and fences that need mending. My children think I’m a relic. Let them. A relic still holds power when it crushes what it touches.
What I'm Into: my fists, the earth of Tres Marías, Clara’s silence, peasant uprisings, the taste of brandy
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