Republic Reborn: Against the Stars and Stripes-Chapter 100: Generous

I had not liked Don Eugenio Suarez, even with his generous gestures during my time in town.

I could not forget how he had let Pedro and his men sleep in a storehouse filled with drying copra. For all the displays of hospitality he extended toward me, he hadn’t even bothered to have the copra cleared out—or at the very least, to provide them with simple mats and a few proper meals.

And, of course, it was not lost on me how coldly he treated his own family. Despite the circumstances, a proper human being would have shown at least a hint of sorrow over his father’s death, and some measure of compassion for his grieving half-sister. Yet according to the housemaid, he had tried to evict her from the very house she had grown up in—just a few days before I arrived.

I wouldn’t even be surprised if he had been one of the reasons why the principalia in the town had initially resisted me. For all I knew, he had been undermining me from the start. Perhaps he was even personally opposed to the martial law. That tale about his failure to acquire the fields in Biga—maybe that was a lie, too.

In short, he was not what I would call a pleasant man. A two-faced coward, who bowed with respect and heaped praise upon me in person, only to work against me once my back was turned.

Now... I suspected him of stealing the rifles, with his younger brother Adan as his accomplice. For what purpose, I still did not know. But if he thought I would simply let the matter slide, he was gravely mistaken.

I arrived at his residence flanked by a small armed force, rifles in hand, torches in the other. The rhythmic pounding of boots on the dirt road echoed into the night, waking more than a few neighbors. Some peeked from their windows, while others stepped warily onto their doorsteps to see what was happening.

I ordered Capitan Sadiwa to knock.

It was late in the night, so we didn’t expect a ready welcome. After a few tense minutes, a maid finally opened the door. Her eyes immediately went wide as they took in the line of riflemen behind me.

"The gobernadorcillo is asleep..." she said in a voice barely above a whisper, her eyes darting nervously. "But I can wake him up for you."

I stepped forward onto the landing, causing the maid to retreat into the doorway as if burned.

"There will be no need," I said.

Without looking back, I gave the order to the capitan. "Have your men surround the house. Post guards at every opening—doors, and windows. Send a dozen inside with us. We clear every room."

Capitan Sadiwa saluted. The recruits moved with crisp precision, their training evident. One platoon spread out around the house, securing the perimeter. The others positioned themselves by each visible point of egress. The rest followed us inside.

The house—large, old, and built in the traditional bahay-na-bato style—erupted into confusion as we entered. Maids and servants, roused from their sleep, shuffled in their nightclothes, whispering and gasping at the sight of armed soldiers trampling through the house. I barked at the recruits to round them up and keep them out of our way.

The old mayordomo, who must have been nearly sixty, attempted to stop us. A young soldier shoved the butt of his rifle into the man’s gut. He dropped with a painful wheeze, clutching his stomach.

A servant boy dashed across the hallway from the other wing, clearly hoping to escape. I caught him by the arm and slammed him against the nearest wall.

"Where is Don Suarez’s room?" I demanded.

The boy trembled, visibly trying to hold back tears. He looked no older than fifteen. I released my grip, but the next moment I caught the glint of steel and heard the click of a bolt being drawn.

"Sagot, bata!" Capitan Sadiwa barked, raising his rifle at the child’s head.

The boy broke down, sobbing uncontrollably. A dark patch spread down his trousers.

"Upstairs!" he choked out. "The door nearest to the window in the main sala!"

The captain looked ready to strike him, but I raised a hand and laid it on his shoulder.

"Enough, Capitan."

We proceeded upstairs. Our boots struck the wooden steps with purpose. As with most homes of its type, the second floor opened into a large main sala—a receiving hall. There would be no need to break down any doors. The man we sought was already awake.

Don Suarez stood waiting, still groggy, his camiseta wrinkled and his trousers loosely tied. His face was puffy from sleep, and he blinked against the harsh torchlight. Yet unlike his terrified servants, his expression was one of confusion rather than fear.

"Restrain him!" Capitan Sadiwa called from behind me.

"Stand them down," I said immediately, my voice level but firm. The captain was being overzealous—eager to use his rank beyond the barracks or the construction site in Landi. His tone grated on me.

The recruits obeyed.

I walked toward a small receiving table set in the corner of the sala. For grand feasts and formal events, Suarez used the large hall downstairs. But for official guests, he preferred this room. It was decorated lavishly: thick, colorful carpets lined the floor; chandeliers hung from the ceiling; varnished wooden panels gleamed in the torchlight; and expensive-looking furniture filled the space.

"Have a seat, Don Suarez," I said, gesturing to the couch opposite mine.

He cast a quick glance at Sadiwa, then sat down across from me. "It’s the middle of the night," he said. "What could possibly be so urgent that you’d storm into my house—?"

"Sixty rifles have gone missing from the barracks," I interrupted. "Last Sunday. Your brother was the one assigned to secure them while most of the recruits were helping with the construction in Landi."

Suarez blinked, then slowly shook his head. "That’s... unfortunate. But how do you know Adan is at fault?"

I didn’t answer. I merely exhaled sharply and fixed him with a hard stare.

"Sixty rifles," he repeated. "What’s the cost of that? I can arrange payment. But first, you’ll need to prove that Adan—"

Capitan Sadiwa cut in. "We suspect you, Eugenio. That you had a hand in it."

The use of his first name made it personal. Given their age, I assumed they had known each other since childhood.

Suarez’s face twisted. "Don’t tell me, Heneral, that you think I’m the one who stole the rifles? You think I ordered Adan to do it for me?"

I crossed my arms. "We suspect, yes. But you are not yet convicted, Don Suarez. While I investigate, you will remain under house arrest."

He stood up, face flushed with anger. "Why would you suspect me? I spared no expense to accommodate you! Have I not been generous? I spent a fortune to ensure you were welcomed warmly. I have fulfilled your every request! And now you accuse me of theft?"

I stared him down, gritting my teeth.

"Generous, you say. You left my brother-in-law and his men starving and freezing in a stinking copra storehouse when they first arrived. And you—so generous—tried to evict your half-sister while she was still grieving. All because you were bitter still at your father even after his death."

"You treat me well," I continued coldly, "because I have power over you. But the true measure of a man is how he treats his inferiors."