"Who are you?" asked Francisco with suspicion.
"My apologies. I'm Diego — this useless bastard's father, current head of the Restrepo family," said the middle-aged man, smiling apologetically at Francisco.
"We failed to educate him; he grew arrogant to his own detriment," Diego added reprovingly as he looked at his son.
"I understand. But as a member of a high-class family you must also understand that insulting a member of a prestigious house isn't acceptable and can't be resolved easily," said Francisco with a serious glance.
"I understand, I understand. What do you think if we fix this with a public apology from this bastard to your sister and a mine in Santa Rosa de Osos?" the old man offered with a practiced smile.
"It all depends on my sister; after all, she is the injured party," said Francisco, watching his sister, who was playing with other children. "Isabella, come here for a moment," he called.
Isabella ran to Francisco, eyeing the two suspicious men in front of them. "Yes, brother?" she said, inclining her head in the polite greeting common among the upper class.
"What a beautiful and sensible child. Sigh—what luck," Diego muttered, looking at Isabella with envy.
"Sister, this man said something bad about you. As your brother, I demanded a duel, but his father intervened and offered to resolve it with a public apology and a mine. What do you think?" Francisco asked, keeping his face neutral so as not to bias her.
"Um… a duel is where two people can get hurt," Isabella answered with her innocent, wide eyes.
"So?" Francisco prompted.
"Then I don't want it. I don't want you to be hurt," Isabella said, hugging her brother.
"Sigh. Thanks, little lady," the middle-aged man said, envy still in his gaze. He smacked his son on the head. "What — aren't you going to apologize, you bastard? Why can't you learn from this girl and be sensible?" Diego scolded.
"I'm sorry," mumbled the son, almost inaudible.
"You bastard!" his father slapped him again. "Speak with force, like a man. Even a girl has more courage than you."
"I'm sorry," the son said louder, tears welling in his eyes.
"—You—" Diego was about to strike again when Francisco intervened.
"Ok, Mr. Diego. I don't think it's necessary to go further. I think he's learned his lesson," Francisco said, looking at the boy with pity.
"Fine. What well-bred children. Don't worry—when I get home I'll send a servant to your father's house to transfer the deed of the mine," Diego said with an overly polite face, very different from his son's.
After taking his son by the ear, Diego left, but not before kicking the servant who had questioned Francisco and leaving him in the street screaming, "You are fired! Don't come near the family and don't dare use the Restrepo name anymore." Then he smiled at Francisco and continued on his way. The servant's face went pale; two of Francisco's servants came and dragged him by each arm to Francisco.
"Brother, I feel a little pity for him," Isabella said, looking at the poor servant with tears in her eyes.
Before Francisco could answer, a voice came from behind them.
"That's because our little Isabella is sensible and a good child," Carlos said, walking up with another group of servants.
"Father!" Isabella cried, jumping into Carlos's arms. "How is my little girl?" Carlos asked dotingly. "You know I just defeated my brother in a duel to the death," Isabella puffed proudly, seeking recognition.
"Oh, our little pirate is so strong now," Carlos said. "That's right," Isabella replied. "That's good—could our little pirate go play with her friends while I talk with Francisco?" Carlos asked.
"Okay," Isabella answered, jumping from Carlos's arms and running to join the other children.
Carlos walked beside Francisco and patted his shoulder. "You did well. It's not a good idea to make too many enemies when we are new to the town. I'm sure some families don't like us; there were powerful houses here before. One more family means they share power—and that means less power for them," he said, watching Mr. Diego, his son, and the servants walk away. Then he looked at the servant left behind and asked, "So, what should we do with this servant?"
"I don't know. Do you have any advice, father?" Francisco asked. Consulting his father followed the teachings of honoring one's parents—filial piety exists in many cultures, and Catholicism, as a direct line of Christianity, encourages that respect.
"Didn't you say you wanted to open an industry? This servant might be useful," Carlos said, thinking of his son's future endeavors.
At those words, hope rekindled in the servant's eyes. "Young master, I'm willing. Please don't send me to prison. If I'm recorded for doubting the lineage of a noble house, my life as a servant would be over. I have a wife and two children to feed; without me, my family will starve."
"That's a good idea, but we have to punish him in some way. If we not only avoid punishment but give him a job, some may think we are too soft and try to take advantage of our family. If we punish him harshly, he might still betray us out of spite," Francisco said, thinking.
"That's true. Why don't you make him your slave but pay him a salary? That way he can feed his family and (theoretically) won't betray you," Carlos suggested.
Francisco's eyes lit up. "That's right—but will he accept?" he asked, looking at the servant.
"I… I… sigh. Can you promise me you will protect my family, young master?" the servant asked with difficulty. After all, the difference between servant and slave was huge; once he became a slave, leaving that position would be almost impossible.
"Sure. But you can never betray me or my family. You know what happens if you do," Francisco said. He did not say more; in those times, high families didn't only have laws—their influence could be deadly. With no real police or detectives, disappearances or deaths outside the city often went unpunished unless the act happened in public.
"I… I'm willing, young master," the servant said, as if taking the choice drained the last of his strength.
"Good. Take him to his house and bring his parents to our villa," Francisco ordered his servants. "Ask permission from the Restrepo family first," he added, not forgetting to warn them.
"Yes, young master," the servants answered.