The sun was setting amidst the horizon as the blue skies were tinted in autumnal hues of orange and red. Crisanto inhaled the scent of tobacco that wafted ever so subtly in his quarters before exhaling both it and the steady stress that lodged itself in his chest he's been accumulating for the past week.

He had given up organizing his papers as he allowed it to stack haphazardly in his desk; papers of orders and decrees and whatever crap the higher ups spewed unto him that they were too lazy to sort out on their own. It appears that those glorified Roman busts of medals and pride took the opportunity to deck him out once he reached Philippine shores. He was a Heneral, true, but despite all of this, he was still a fresh comer, easily below their rank in terms of experience in the country.

Crisanto smirked, letting the ash fall from his cigarette onto the half-closed shutters, the particles floating hazily with the dust. If they knew his heritage, they'd probably piss their britches in slumping all of their work onto him, but it would just be detrimental to his cause. The only people that knew him intimately were still in Spain and that was what the ambitious Filipino was rooting for.

He blew another puff of smoke. The smell of tobacco grew steadily stronger.

It wasn't that big of a deal to finish the tasks assigned to him, only that there was matters of more importance to him than sorting out paperwork from people he has only met from rumors and reputation; a matter that involved two idiots and a body count. Crisanto scrunched his nose. "Great, another headache." He said verbally before he could even think about it. As much as the Heneral was fond of these complications that disrupt his usual dull routine, they couldn't have picked a better time to cause a ruckus.

And now instead of going to the pub, he's stuck in his office waiting for some incompetent lackey he's going to have to order around.

It wasn't long before a knock interrupted his train of thought. He glanced at the direction of the door before flicking the cigarette out of the window and opening the shutters fully. He sat down on his chair, clearing his throat to smoothen whatever hints of inactivity of his voice, "Entre."

The door creaked as it was opened inwards, revealing Jose. Crisanto eyed him, first in the eyes, and then running down his attire. "Neither blemish nor imperfection on his clothes, but his face betrays nervousness." Crisanto assessed mentally, "Slight fidgets on his hands, eyes flickering in my direction but not in my eyes." He smirked, "One of the most brilliant soldiers. Typical."

"Sir," Jose said in a telltale accent that begets his hometown. A fact Crisanto was more than happy to entertain. "You wanted to see me?"

"Yes," Crisanto replied, "I assume you've been briefed earlier by your commander?"

Jose gulped silently as if to prepare his sanity from the Heneral's onslaught. Crisanto had to bite his tongue to stifle a chuckle. "Yes, Heneral Rodel."

Crisanto fought a smile. "Take a seat."

Carrying on his stalwart expression, Jose stepped towards a prepared chair facing the left of Crisanto's table with military proficiency. Even as he sat, he never broke his posture but Crisanto saw through it all.

"Are you always this stiff?" he inquired.

"I beg your pardon?" Jose asked, eyes darting to his clothes to see some sort of unforeseen discrepancy.

"This isn't an evaluation, constable. You don't have to act like a catatonic statue in my office."

Jose inhaled sharply before trying to limber down, the suspense still not quite leaving his eyes. Crisanto sighed inwardly; the pains of having a reputation bigger than your rank.

"Yes, sir." Jose said afterwards, trying to rest his back onto the chair.

"Alright." Crisanto said, pulling his chair closer to the table, his worn eyes cutting through Jose, as if challenging him to look back. Surprisingly, the constable looked back onto him. A sense of muted pride seared through the stress in his chest.

"Have you read the files your commander gave to you?"

"Si, Heneral." Jose confirmed.

"Okay. Since you've been given the main brunt of what you're about to be doing. The particulars would be especially easy."

Jose was perplexed. Hasn't that event only occur yesterday? How could information spread so fast that Heneral Rodel has made a plan this quickly? Jose waved away other miscellaneous thoughts and looked onto the Heneral; no, his Heneral. "What would you want me to do?"

Crisanto grinned, formulating the plan on the spot. "It's plain on your face that you have never met these people before, but that would work in our favor. Frequent the locations where they also frequent and get to know them."

The Heneral pulled out a flyer he was given by a Guardia Civil. "Clearly, it's propaganda for a bullshit concept for revolution, so the best way to gain their trust is to show interest to their cause." Crisanto extended the flyer to Jose and motioned for him to take it, to which he did.

He read it with wide eyes before folding and slipping the parchment on his left pocket. "Show that to them and say you're interested in helping their movement." Crisanto ordered the dark-skinned constable. "Gain their trust and then when they least expect it, apprehend them."

Jose took it in, this was blasphemy to both the King and to the Lord. They were doing this in order to liberate and educate his fellow countrymen, and yet. It was his brethren. The very act of even betraying them sent chills down his spine, but it was his duty.

"How would you want me to apprehend them?" he stoically inquired.

Crisanto allowed himself to smile. "Be creative. Use a gun."

He suddenly allowed this expression to crumble, his words suddenly razor sharp as he gazed into Jose. "Just bring them back alive and burn all those flyers to where they deserve to be in hell."

Jose felt his back straighten on its own, the waft of tobacco lingering comfortably in the cold mood of the office. The orange-dusted skies made way for the night as only harsh violets flooded the room from the windows. "Si, heneral." was his only reply.

"I expect you to accomplish your mission within a week." Crisanto smugly added.

Before Jose could start a retort, Crisanto cutted it short with a simple "You are dismissed."

As if to contemplate whether he should argue the point or just accept, his adam apple bobbed before he stood and saluted. "Si, heneral." Jose conceded.

Crisanto stood from the chair and gazed up on the night sky, until he heard the door shut. Only then did he allow his guard to fall as he exhaled heavily. He opened a drawer and fished out his box of cigarettes before taking a stick between his teeth.

He lit a candle and placed it on the candleholder near his desk, disregarding fire safety; as if he could give two shits on whether the paper would burn. If he was lucky it would engulf him with it and allow this nightmare to end already, but alas. Life had a funny way of torturing him.

He allowed the end of his cigarette to catch fire from the candle as he puffed out another cloud of smoke. Speaking of papers...

He pulled a sheet of paper from the sheaf that was at his desk drawer and took out a quill and an inkwell.

"Guelio.

Quite the ruckus you and your hotheaded campadre have caused. I fail to see how you don't perceive this as a detriment in our objectives in giving you the printing press you want from me but nevertheless the damage is done and this will become a pit fall in our progress.

Perhaps if you gave Rodrigo a brick he would've calmed himself down and maybe we could've found a better, easier way to achieve our goals but you seem to gain some sort of perverse pleasure in seeing me bust my ass to your whims.

Though I have no complaints since I really have nothing to do of interest so I'll give you a pass.

I do, to your merit, know a suitable printing press and exactly the way to allow you and your little posse access to it without gaining unwanted attention from less friendly eyes. I'll discuss to you the details since I fear that we might be compromised if I put it on parchment. Meet me at El Barril by sundown and maybe we'll snag ourselves a win for once.

Don't let your guard down.

                                                                                                                                                                            Casanova."

(. -. / --. .- .-. -.. .)