"Buenas... días... papa... aqua está ti café," Isabela said as she poured coffee, practicing her Spanish at the sa ti.
"Gracias, mi hija," I replied, imdiately putting the mug down on the table, lest I spill it in the middle of my chuckling. "And what a good way to tell Vicente hasn’t been doing his job."
Triviño, seated opposite , let out a heavy sigh. Since becoming her Spanish tutor and bodyguard, he had regained his seat at my table—which, I must admit, had made the sala lively again.
"Well... the señorita has her own schedule and ends the lessons as she pleases," he said, avoiding the gaze of the girl who had been smiling at him—until he said that.
I chuckled, louder this ti.
Isabela’s face twisted as she took her seat.
"Well... not my fault. You’re too stern, like a real maestro," she chided, pouring milk into her coffee.
"I am your maestro. And believe , Señorita, I’m more qualified than the so-called maestros you have here in Marinduque," he responded with a smug smirk.
I shook my head, though I couldn’t help grinning. It was a disrespectful thing to say, but perhaps not untrue. He looked at and shrugged.
"A gentleman is respectful and humble, Señorito Triviño," Isabela snapped back with a disapproving glare. "And not a tattletale like you."
Triviño huffed and stared her straight in the eye.
"Well thank goodness... because I’m not a gentleman."
Isabela tilted her head in confusion. "What do you an by—"
"Alright, stop it, you two. It’s too early in the morning to be arguing," I interjected. I didn’t believe my sweet Isabela would think any less of him if she learned he wasn’t from the principalia. But it might cause her to question his credentials, which would only make it harder for him to teach her Spanish.
The two fell silent, though they continued clashing through their facial expressions.
I cleared my throat. "I’m leaving for Mogpog today. I have business there."
It was Vicente who reacted first, raising his eyebrows. "Has Capitan Roque sent word?"
I nodded. "One of his n arrived last Saturday. Said it went smoothly. I would have gone myself if I didn’t need to receive the cabezas. But I can’t delay any longer."
"Why are you even telling us..." Isabela muttered, sipping from her cup as she stared out the window. "You’re always out of the house anyway, so what’s the difference?"
I sighed. "Because after that, I might proceed to Sta. Cruz. Your Tiyo could send word any day now. I might be gone for a week."
"That’s what you said last ti..." she pouted.
I glanced at Triviño. He gave a look that said, Now you understand what I an.
I ignored them both. "I’ll be leaving with half of the escolta and half of the trained recruits. That ans there’ll be less security around here."
"And you, Teniente Triviño, will be in command of the remaining escorts. Make sure my daughter doesn’t stray too far from the town center. Bring extra n with you every ti you go out," I told him seriously. "My absence might attract foul attempts from those who have grown to dislike ."
He seed to understand the severity of the matter, snapping to a salute. "I’ll do my best, Heneral."
"Blrrrf." Isabela blew through her lips, unimpressed by the exchange. "Not only are you leaving behind... you’re going to make a captive of this man."
"Don’t worry, Señorita," Triviño sighed. "It’ll be just as miserable for as it is for you."
---
By Monday, the cabezas had brought a total of fifty new recruits into the fold. That morning, the plaza once again hosted a hundred n in formation—though that wouldn’t last for long.
Two weeks of training made a significant difference.
The two newly ford platoons stood disheveled, furiously sweating, and slightly pale. The two-week-old platoons, on the other hand, stood sharper and sweated only lightly, as if they’d just gone for a short jog.
"You said you’ll be leaving for Mogpog. Will I go with you?" asked Colonel Abad as we stood by the doorway of the Casa Real, arms crossed, eyes surveying the recruits.
I shook my head.
"How about ?" Dimalanta asked.
"Neither of you will be going with ," I replied.
"Dimalanta, you’ll be in charge of training the new recruits. You participated during the first week and I’ve seen your notes. You’re an exemplary soldier, and your ticulousness makes you a good instructor." I gave him a pat on the back. I ant no flattery—only the truth.
"Basic drills and formations during the first couple of days. Then introduce the advanced formations and the exercise routine I taught you by the third or fourth day. If I don’t return within the week, go ahead with the marksmanship training next Monday."
Ronaldo grinned widely, clearly enjoying the complints. His heels clicked as he gave a sharp, crisp salute.
I nodded approvingly, then turned to the Colonel. Unlike Dimalanta, I wasn’t as confident in Maximo. There was no doubting his intellect—he was perhaps the smartest in my staff, maybe second only to Vicente. He absorbed lectures quickly and applied them with ease.
But his past as a schoolteacher in the escuela municipal de los niños had given him a mild deanor—not one to be stern or strict. And as the port altercation had shown, he could be a bit indecisive.
Still, being a good teacher and an even better learner, I hoped he’d grow from the heavy task I was about to give him.
"In my absence, Colonel Abad, you will be the highest authority in this town." I stepped closer and spoke in a low, stern voice. "I’ll be leaving with half of the escolta and half of the trained recruits. You’ll command the remaining trained platoon."
"Post guards at the port, at the town entrances, and at the storehouses. Keep patrols on the streets," I added, staring at him silently before continuing. He looked unsettled but held my gaze.
"Most of all, Colonel, do not hesitate to use intimidation or force if necessary. If need be... rember to use your rifles."
Given his temperant, I expected questions followed by a reluctant nod.
But perhaps Dimalanta had rubbed off on him. He snapped to attention and saluted crisply.
"Para sa Republika, Heneral."
"Para sa Republika, Coronel."
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