Republic Reborn: Against the Stars and Stripes-Chapter 52: All Is Well

"Are you out of your mind, Don Martin?"

As soon as I stepped into the conference room, Fidel Contreras’s deafening shout rang out. For a moment, I was completely taken aback, floundering nervously as I tried to insert my arm into the coat I had hastily grabbed from upstairs. It had been decades since anyone had shouted at me so rudely.

I glanced at Señor Paras, the town mayor. I would find no sympathy from him. Florentino simply looked away, staring out the window at the backyard. It seemed Colonel Abad’s warning had been accurate—the two men, usually at odds, had come together in agreement against me.

"What is your problem, Don Contreras? Have you forgotten your manners, that you would shout at me before we’ve even started talking?" I had collected myself and decided to be offended. A quick scan of Martin’s memories confirmed that Fidel had never been this impolite before.

"What’s this I hear from Señor Nieva? You had his grandson marching under the scorching sun like the rest of the rabble you’ve recruited for your little army?" Contreras continued, voice raised. "Where did you get the guts to do such a thing?"

I chuckled in disbelief, straightening the coat now on my shoulders. The adrenaline pumping through my body had made me forget my aching muscles and stiff neck.

"How is another man’s grandson your business, Don Fidel? You don’t know the whole story, and honestly, I don’t feel obliged to explain it to you. I’ll speak with Señor Nieva myself," I answered, stepping closer to make it clear he didn’t intimidate me.

Don Contreras smirked and shook his head. "I’m curious—what exactly do you think you are, Martin?"

"I am an appointed general of the Republic, Fidel. If you want proof, I can show you the letter signed by the Presidente himself in Malolos," I replied through gritted teeth.

Fidel looked as if he were about to respond. He raised his arms, but no words came. He simply huffed in frustration.

"About the school building... Heneral," Florentino broke the silence. He said the word with a hint of sarcasm. "Maestro Rey and his students were shocked to find this morning that they could no longer use the eskwelahan. Your soldiers shooed them away."

I raised an eyebrow. That surprised me almost as much as seeing Florentino on the same side as Contreras.

"I was told it was unused."

Florentino turned fully from the window to face me. Gone was his usual friendly expression.

"You were told wrong. More than a dozen children from Boac had already returned to school. Maybe—if you had consulted us first—we could have told you that."

Don Contreras’s eyes lit up, seizing the moment to continue his rant.

"Yes! You should have convened a meeting like the first time. You can’t just turn our town into a military camp because you feel like it. Even if you are a general, you do not supersede civilian authority in times of peace."

I smirked and licked my lips.

"You seem to forget that I am also your governor. And last I checked..." I paused for emphasis, "a governor can make decisions without consulting the town mayor or the principalia."

Don Contreras huffed and turned around, stroking his beard. I continued:

"And we are not in times of peace, señores. War with the Americans is on the horizon. As you’ve seen, I’m racing to prepare the province for the inevitable invasion."

I had hoped that argument might win over the town mayor, but Florentino only shook his head, avoiding eye contact.

Fidel Contreras burst into bitter laughter.

"War? War, Don Martin? Have the bullets started flying? I don’t hear any cannons. In fact, I don’t see a single American soldier!"

He stepped closer and pointed at my chest, his finger inches away. The warmth of his breath and the stench of tobacco made me instinctively pull back.

"You’ve thrown in your lot with that so-called government in Luzon, stirring up a hornet’s nest. If the Americans wanted war, they wouldn’t be waiting! Why would such a powerful country bide its time, watching Aguinaldo’s lackeys swarm Manila like a plague of flies?

"No... it’s not the Americans we should be afraid of. You want a war so badly—so you can act like a little king and play soldier! And here I thought you were more reasonable than this, Martin!"

My ears were ringing, not just from the volume but from sheer anger. I didn’t realize my hand had reached out and caught his arm, instinctively stopping him from storming out.

Fidel glared at me and brushed my hand away.

He slammed the door shut behind him.

The silence that followed did nothing to calm my nerves. I was about to grab a chair and throw it against the floor when I realized the gobernadorcillo was still in the room.

"I supported the revolution from the beginning—you know that," Florentino said, looking at the door before meeting my eyes. "But this... this is not the way, Martin. You’ve been avoiding us since your return from Manila. How hard would it have been to convene a meeting, like when that lieutenant from General Diokno arrived?"

I had been giving them short answers every time they tried to question me—and with good reason, one that had just been justified.

"A meeting—with people like Contreras? A man who can’t decide whether to treat the Americans as enemies or welcome them with a red carpet and banderitas? Didn’t you hear him spout treason just now? A more rigid officer would’ve had him hanged."

"You exaggerate," he said quietly, picking up his hat and slowly placing it on his graying head. "At the very least, you could have consulted me... gobernador."

I tried to reply immediately but found no words. He was a true supporter of the revolution, one of the first members of the Katipunan, and a close friend. Still, I couldn’t bring myself to fully trust him.

Even the former Martin had known him as a principalia through and through—a man who would bicker with other elites until the entire hierarchy was threatened.

An outrageous suspicion to have of a friend—but no longer outrageous.

He walked toward me and gently tapped my shoulder.

"Continue on this path... and you’ll walk it alone."

I let out a silent sigh. Suddenly, the weight of it all descended on me like a falling roof.

I listened to his footsteps stop. Then the door creaked open.

"Señorita Isabela," he said softly.

I spun around immediately. Isabela stood by the door, holding a platter with what would have been our snacks. The smile she had offered the gobernadorcillo faded as he walked out of earshot.

I rushed to her and took the platter from her hands before shutting the door. A closer look revealed her teary eyes and trembling expression.

"Why... were they shouting at you, Papa?" she asked, her voice quivering.

And just like that, I was more frightened than I had been the entire afternoon. She was a brave young lady—but she wasn’t afraid for herself. She had only ever heard praise for her father, never raised voices or angry shouts.

I placed the platter on the table and embraced her, kissing the top of her head. She began to sob against my chest and held on tightly.

"Are you alright?" she asked, voice muffled.

"All is well, hija," I told her softly. "All is well."