It took a while to find his father’s stall. Alvalar expected it to be in the center with the other artisans and other smiths, with a sign in big-bold letters saying, “Smoke’s Smith”, but instead found it on the other side of the festival grounds, bordering between Esperanza and the Zahrah jungle that surround the town – a place nobody wanted to be, especially when night came.

Not only that, but it was more like a hurriedly made shack than an open-air stall that allowed their products to be seen out in the open. It had the sign like he expected, but papi was always cautious and paranoid that rivals would still his secrets and techniques, so the shack’s only openings were the long green-and-orange curtain with Idro’s mighty caliber symbol on the front that acted as the door and the medium-sized hole in the ceiling that allowed trickles of smoke to escape.

Smoke wasn’t the antisocial type that would isolate himself from others, so Alvalar could’ve even begin to come up with an explanation. It was odd. His presentation and choice of setting wouldn’t provide him any potential new customers from Ram Head or farther places to his permanent shop in Esperanza’s small business district, either. Papi’ll be too stubborn to move the shack if Alvalar tried persuading him. Besides, Coronation Day was just that – a day that comes every who-knows-when – so perhaps papi was being realistic. By tomorrow, Tio Alejandro’s reincarnation will already be given Inferno and off on his little journey while papi’ll be back in his store and Alvalar would be there right alongside him, dusting the items on the storefront, dealing with customers that came in and forging upcoming orders from their Book of Orders (his favorite part).

Not wanting to waste time and risk getting an even larger cocotazo than he knew he was getting for already being late, however, Alvalar stop being critical of his father’s choices and pulled back the green-and-orange Idro curtain, and entered, Misu following in closely behind–

“Don’t go calling me navito. Yo no soy un navito, and I’m especially not your navito anymore, Capitán Alvarez,” Smoke spoke with a clear sense of defiance.

In shock, Alvalar followed his father’s voice and saw him dealing with a heavy-set elderly Navasarian man with brown skin and eyes of crimson, dressed in high-class clothing made of fine cotton. His old, wrinkled grip fixated on a diamond-tipped cane while his feet were clad in riding boots.

Coupled by the tone of his comment, Papi’s expression wasn’t the least pleased in the slightest. His Tilithian golden eyes stared at the man in front of him like the edge of a sharpened blade, his lips slightly aback as though in utter disgust while his work clothes – consisting of a loose undershirt, trousers and boots – were stained with charred marks here and there, arms folded. The N-scar that was burned into his bronze flesh was scrunched up.

Alvalar then looked back at this man who looked to be in his late sixties, at first with a sense of surprise, but that quickly faded away. His fists then clenched up as tightly as they could and then a storm of steam began to erupt from his palm while his heart roared with a blazing fury.

In his youth, Alvalar had heard horror stories of how this Capitán Alvarez used to whip Papi and Tio Alejandro senseless and then continue the torture while the pair were imprisoned inside a dirty and sweltering hot hut, chained to the wall and without a crumb of food for a fortnight all due to issues in the plantation’s forge that were beyond the control of the two young men, but for him to actually see the man that caused his father all that pain, all those tears at just recounting his youth… O’ how Alvalar wanted to char that fat bastard’s ochre-brown skin to the point that the burns will forever torture him.

Capitán Alvarez, as ill-bred as he was fat, growled, “Don’t you dare speak to me as though we’re anything short of equals. Never forget those pirates on La Isla de Oro will enslave you if they ever get their hands on you, you maleducado Navi. And who will be left laughing? Me!” He spat in papi’s face and lowered his cane. He cocked his head downward and Alvalar saw the man’s crimson eyes briefly dart to the side and his lips quirk upward into a disgusting smirk before glancing back at Smoke. “If that comes to pass, I’ll might just purchase you again. Don’t you miss that abandoned bohío where we used to have all sorts of fun together? I do. I can hear the bohío, and it tells me constantly how it misses you too.”

Readying her claws, Misu’s fur started to fluff up while her teeth chattered, chu chu chu. She glanced up at Alvalar as though begging him to give her the order to have this man’s head ripped from his shoulders, but he simply eased the grip on his fist, steam still not dissipating. Not yet.

Esperanza was (and still is) a town established for and by the escaped Navi of the Safra region in Navasar and their free descendants – a palenque – using the thick wilderness of jungle, various traps scattered along trails and the lore surrounding the nightly Zahrah to the inhabitants’ upmost advantage from being discovered by slave-catchers. Isolation and being autonomous has been a common habit for Esperanza during the two hundred-years it has been used as a sacred place of refuge, but in the last three years this habit has waned slightly in the effort to stimulate more trade with various nearby towns and villages, and bring more money into the town.

That being said, everyone, be they natives of Esperanza or outsiders, must adhere to the Town Codes, and outsiders go through a series of harsh interrogations before they ever stepped foot on Esperanzian soil, but it was utterly remarkable as to how Capitán Alvarez managed to slip through considering his status. Taking bribes, especially from slave masters, to gain the location of and entrance into Esperanza was a major offense but attacking such slave masters wouldn’t be… Alvalar glanced back at his calibress and considered it for a moment but thought against it once again. In closed quarters like this, it would certainly be sloppy work.

When the bastard leaves this shack, however, everything else is fair game.

Alvalar looked back at his father and saw those angrily determined golden irises of his glaring at the man that enslaved him all those years ago. By the grit of his teeth and with the swiftness of a kirili bird, Smoke unsheathed his oldest dagger from his thigh holster and stabbed her sharply into the thick wooden countertop, and with a tight grip too; with such sudden movement, both his large Idro beads and gorgeous Tilithian wedding wristlet that was given to him by his husband Tariq during their wedding last summer, swayed and collided with one another, creating a subtle jingle.

Despite being nearly three decades old, Estrella’s onyx blade glimmered brightly against the few slight rays of light that managed to peak through the light fabric that hung itself at the door as though she had been freshly forged and sharpened that very morning. With piedra de calor fragments incorporated into her blade, she resembled the casting of twinkling crimson stars across the night. “If you think I’m going to let myself be enslaved again, you are as stupid as you are obese,” Smoke hissed. “I’m not that terrified, subservient boy I used to be. Trust me on that.”

Alvalar glanced at Misu, whom caught her owner’s gaze. He motioned over with the pursing of his lips. To best drive papi’s point home is to get that rat out of here and have him… enjoy a brief dose of exercise.

Slowly like a predator closing on her prey, Misu silently made her way over to Capitan Alvarez. Without him noticing her closeness, the caliber raised her head back and let out the loudest roar she could muster.

Capitan Alvarez leaped at the sudden noise and had done so again once he turned around and got a look of Misu. Evidently, he seems to be quite frightened of calibers. Excellent. However, in his fear, he grabbed a good hold of his cane and hit the chocolate calibress with a stone-hard thwack of his cane. Voicing her pain, Misu let out a soft whimper.

Alvalar’s heart stopped. The ability to breath left him for what felt like ages. Even time seemed to slow down.

Despite the whimper however, Misu was a sturdy creature, just like all calibers. As though to shake off the pain, she roughly shook her head side to side then shot Capitan Alvarez a glare.

“Begone, daemon cat!” The slave-master shrilled out in terror, stepping back. He attempted to hit the chocolate calibress once again, but no animal was going to allow itself to be hit a second time.

When the cane nearly graced her furry cheek, Misu immediately shifted into her small, cat-like false form. Despite being small and extremely lithe, this wasn’t the form that she wanted nor needed. It was just to dodge the attack. As soon as the cane raced across the open air in that one fluid strike – ultimately missing the its intended target – she leaped up into the air and shifted back into her much larger form, plummeting Capitan Alvarez to the floor with her massive weight.