Chapter 73: Another Flame
Cebu Colony – Province of Toledo
The sun burned high above the sugar fields of Toledo when the first rumors came. Whispers among the cane cutters, passed from one row to the next. A missing tax collector. A garrison depot emptied overnight. Graffiti scrawled on a church wall in thick charcoal: "We bleed. You feed."
Governor Marcial de los Reyes looked down at the message, lips pressed in a hard line. Behind him, his aide, Catalina, waited nervously with a sheaf of weekly reports.
"This was written last night?" he asked.
Catalina nodded. "Yes, Governor. The local priest said it was already there by morning mass. No one saw who did it."
Marcial didn’t believe that. Someone always saw. But in this part of the colony, silence was currency.
He turned away from the church steps and walked briskly to the awaiting carriage. Catalina followed, nearly tripping over her skirts.
"Cancel today’s appointments," he said. "We’re going to Pinamungajan."
"Sir, that’s a five-hour ride. You have a council meeting—"
"That council can wait. Rebellion doesn’t."
Pinamungajan – Western Sugar Belt
By sunset, the road turned rough and the fields dense. Workers along the plantation trails stopped to stare at the carriage as it passed, their eyes guarded, their expressions unreadable. Marcial recognized the signs—he’d seen them before, in Mindoro a decade ago. People who had no more faith in petitions. Only in silence. Only in each other.