Not long after the president gave his opening remarks, the banquet truly began.
The rondalla resud playing, this ti with a livelier tune. Servants entered through the doors, and for the first ti, food was brought in. As with fine dining, the prir plato—or first course—was soup and salad with so bread.
Before I could even pick up my spoon, the first of many questions arrived.
"Did I hear you right, Heneral? You are from Marinduque?" Heneral Llanera resud right where he had left off.
"I am. I was Gobernador Politico-Militar of the province before the president's appointnt," I answered, as I took a spoonful of the chicken consommé. I didn't expect it to be so richly flavored, and I grimaced for a mont before grabbing a small loaf of bread to cleanse my palate.
"The last ti I checked, Marinduque was under the jurisdiction of Heneral Mariano. Is it not too small and underdeveloped to have its own general?" It was another general at the table who finally asked the question I had been anticipating.
Torres quickly stepped in to introduce to the man—clearly soone who outranked , or perhaps even a few others at the table, judging by how the other generals fell quiet and turned to listen when he spoke.
"And this is Heneral Artemio Ricarte... the forr chief of staff of the army—Luna's predecessor," Heneral Torres leaned in and said in a low voice.
I imdiately sat up straight and cleared my throat. "That's true, Señor Ricarte. But the president agreed that Heneral Trias already has enough on his plate to handle a small, isolated place like Marinduque."
"You haven't answered the second question, Señor. As you've just said yourself, Marinduque is small and isolated... yet it now has its own general." Artemio Ricarte pounced, just as I was about to answer the very question he'd raised.
"I disagreed with Luna on many things, but I did agree with him when he said we have far too many generals." he continued.
I was dealing with another Luna-type. It would seem that the president liked his commanding generals blunt and fiery. As expected, my night was not going to be easy.
I didn't answer imdiately. I wanted to give Heneral Ricarte enough ti to say everything he needed to say, lest he interrupt again. Every officer at the table nodded in agreent—except for Heneral Torres, who looked as though he was about to defend before I finally decided to speak up myself.
"The president has decided to create a new military district... and I believe it was based on Heneral Luna's recomndations," I said, and as soon as I ntioned Luna's na, my words visibly carried more weight.
"A military district... with only Marinduque?" Heneral Llanera asked, his face twisting with genuine confusion.
"Not only Marinduque," I clarified, "but also the islands of Mindoro and Romblon. Altogether, the three could muster enough manpower and resources to support a brigade... and a brigadier general." I said this while trying to et the eyes of each general around the table.
Most of them looked satisfied with my answer, including Señor Llanera, whose stern expression had softened. But not all were convinced. The two younger generals at the far end of the table were deep in their own conversation, oblivious to what had just been said.
And Heneral Ricarte... he smirked, then chuckled.
"Theoretically, yes. But Mindoro and Romblon are just as underdeveloped and isolated as Marinduque. Trying to establish a military command from these three islands is like trying to dig a well in a desert."
Then he shook his head and scratched it, turning his gaze toward his bowl of soup.
"Anyway... not that I have any power to rescind your appointnt, Heneral. So I can only wish you luck."
I almost curled my fist, but instead, I forced a smile.
He didn't say it outright, but the aning was clear. He didn't believe I deserved my seat at the table and thought my promotion was forced.
I was likely the most qualified general in the republic with my twenty years of military service—most of it spent in the field, killing and trying not to get killed.
But then again, I was no longer John. To him, I was probably just an upstart—a fish-slling, provincial hacendero trying to ingratiate myself with Luzon's high society.
And with his dismissive attitude, the three islands might as well have been uninhabited—and I, no more than a general of nothing but sand and coconut trees.
"Then I will aspire to prove you wrong, Heneral," I said, staring at him, hoping he'd look in the eye again.
He didn't.
Heneral Ricarte rely huffed, which didn't help ease my temper.
"Enough of the serious talk, caballeros. You'll have plenty of ti ahead for that," Mrs. Torres said, having clearly sensed the rising tension. "But tonight, let's be happy... and set aside all worries and dark thoughts."
Heneral Isidoro, noticing what his wife was trying to do, quickly joined in.
"Anyway, Señor Lardizabal, you've completely neglected to introduce us to your lovely wife."
I furrowed my brows and quickly turned toward Paz. I had indeed neglected her, having forgotten her presence entirely once we sat down.
She was dipping a piece of bread into the soup when I looked her way. She perked up like a thief caught in the act when she noticed all eyes were now on her.
Mrs. Torres nudged her husband. "What are you talking about, dear? That's Paz! One of Don Antonio's daughters."
"Ah!" Señor Torres' face lit up as he laughed. "Right! How could I forget my inaanák? And look at you now... I'd dare say you're even prettier than your sisters."
"You're getting old, Tiyo. You're getting forgetful, and it seems your eyesight is getting worse," Paz replied, smiling—surprisingly smooth and confident in her banter.
Heneral Isidoro laughed at her jest, and soon the entire table was laughing and looking at her.
All of my dark thoughts suddenly faded away.
And just like that, my goal for the night shifted—from proving to my fellow generals that I deserved the appointnt...
To figuring out how I could keep Paz to myself.
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