Adrian was born in the fringes of the European Union seven years and four months after Alder. He was readily accepted and thrived with the wealth and circumstance into which he was born. A pillar of the elite in a society that had come to honor and respect opulent flamboyance in lifestyle. 

His family owned the border city of Orestias and his education was consequently both rigorously structured and remarkably loose. As a child he would travel once per week on a private jet to the center of Paris and receive one-on-one tutoring with the top educator on the continent. This tutoring session would last sixteen hours with little interruption. The remaining days of his week would be spent in whatever manner Adrian saw fit. He had three guards and two assistants at his consistent beck and call and he would take full advantage of the lifestyle. 

He was being groomed to take on the responsibilities of owning what his grandfather Illias had bought after the Arabian South Russia Conflict but he found himself more concerned with exploring the ruins. The boundary of Orestias was marked by the end of civilization itself and the charred and melted remains of society were just on the other side of the fence. Adrian would often leap into the open space with friends and go exploring. It was in these ruins that he would see his first dead body and where he would meet his first love and lose his virginity to another boy his age. 

His father, Cyril, found out that he was gay when he was eighteen years old and one of Adrian’s security guards felt obligated to share and Adrian ran and leaped the fence. It was where he felt most comfortable. He ran for exactly fifty-eight minutes before collapsing in the ruins and trying to take his own life by using a charred shard of plastic. It did not work. His father soon found him by helicopter. The business crafted a way to spin the news so that Adrian’s father could get rid of him. Adrian was sent on a pleasure trip of the ruins of the New American Empire as an apology gift and as a way for his father to work out the details of his return as a worldly gay man who had discovered himself abroad. 

It was a popular trend among the hyper rich at the time to watch a once great civilization pretend that it was not crumbling. Some would stay on the east coast of the continent where it was still safe and slum it in centuries old amenities to get a true experience. Others would embark to the middle or west of the country, massive and unregulated complexes of every imaginable human vice built upon the backs of the poor souls that were unlucky enough to be born there. 

Adrian did both. 

He delighted in every fancy of a young human man for four years and ten months. He never did the same thing twice except for a party that he attended once every year during his time. It was a raucous party somewhere in the middle of the country in a town called Hillston. Every year for the first three, he kept a low profile. He watched the host of the party in quiet awe at how a man with his circumstances could create this lifestyle for himself. He was smitten. In the fourth year, Adrian went to this house in Hillston more frequently and eventually got the courage to talk to it’s host, the dark-skinned, short haired man that seemed to be an infinite source of quiet charisma and charm. It was winter and they talked through the night before Adrian fell asleep in Alder’s bed.

 It was here that Adrian was ripped from a bed on a chilly morning and felt a steel blade sever the arteries in his throat in what seemed like slow motion while Alder screamed in front of him. He had thousands of mourners in Orestias and would become a saint there because of the mystery surrounding his death and the clever weaving of the story from his father. He took the name Milo.