Chapter 104: Failure
I took Don Contreras’ information with a lot of salt. Even with Nestor’s realistic emotional distress, it could still have been some elaborate ploy.
But I immediately moved my hand, just in case.
I had sent scouts to Buenavista and Torrijos to confirm the information. I dispatched Capitan Roque and Mario Nepomuceno with his platoon to reinforce Sargento Guzman in Gasan and to set up basic defenses. At home, I tasked Pedro with posting sentries along the Boac River, which stretched toward Torrijos. Vicente, as always, was made commander of the Bulaqueño guards to secure the Casa Real.
I personally headed for Santa Cruz aboard the gunboat, accompanied by Colonel Abad, Dimalanta, and the remaining three platoons recently trained in Landi.
We were already tense before arriving. The thought of fighting Capitan Sadiwa—and more than a hundred recruits with rifles and basic training—was uncomfortable. They would be more formidable than pirates armed with nothing but machetes and bravado.
So it did not help when we found the port of Buyabod unusually quiet.
The usual hum of coastal life was gone. No boatmen lounging about, no vendors hawking fruits or grilled fish by the docks. Even the fishermen, who often waved or shouted greetings from their bancas, were nowhere in sight. It was unnerving.
"This doesn’t look good, Heneral," Colonel Abad murmured beside me, arms folded as we watched our men disembark via the gangplanks. His tone was low, but the tightness in his jaw was unmistakable.
"It does not," I replied, my heartbeat already quickening.
From the pier, the terrain jutted forward into a narrow strip of land connecting to the mainland—dangerous ground. Advancing inland along that causeway would make us easy targets for any hidden sharpshooters. If an ambush lay in wait, we’d be encircled and slaughtered.
"Lorenzo!" I called out to the cadet officer already leading his platoon ashore. He turned swiftly, rifle slung over his shoulder. "Send a few men ahead to scout the approach. Quiet and low."