Presidente

The Kawit guards, who had been standing as still as statues, flinched when the door to the President's office suddenly swung open. Trivino almost spat out the coffee in his mouth. I slowly placed the cookie I had been about to bite back onto the plate.

I did not recognize the insignias of the Filipino Army, but only a general would be brazen enough to storm out of his president's office. The face beneath the peaked cap was twisted in an indescribable angry expression. His thin eyebrows clashed fiercely, veins bulged at his temples, and his cheeks sank inward as he gritted his teeth.

If he had drawn his sidearm and shot everyone in the room, I would not have been surprised.

"Heneral Luna," Colonel Ola, who had returned just after the two ladies left, was the first to speak. "Is everything all right?"

Antonio Luna. It was only then that I realized I was looking at none other than the man himself, the author of La Independencia. He looked just as I had imagined: as warlike as his publication.

His burning gaze flicked to Colonel Ola, then to the rest of us at the table, before settling on me. I thought he might at least soften his expression in the presence of guests, but he did not. Instead, he turned away and stormed toward the exit. His boots thundered against the floor, and he slammed the door behind him.

Whatever had happened inside that office had not gone well.

"Ah," Colonel Ola scratched his head and chuckled nervously. "Excuse me, Gobernador, I'll go check on the President."

Once again, the three of us were left alone in silence. So many things had happened that day that, for a moment, I doubted whether Heneral Luna's outburst had actually happened.

As soon as the Colonel was out of earshot, Lieutenant Dimalanta spoke.

"That was none other than General Antonio Luna, Jefe de Operaciones de Guerra," Ronaldo said disapprovingly, in an almost whisper. "Believe it or not, this is a regular occurrence. He's causing division with his disrespect for the Presidente."

Storming out like a temperamental child from your superior's office was certainly disrespectful, but there were occasions that warranted it and leaders who deserved it.

That said, I did not like him already. Hot-headedness was not a trait befitting a general, much less someone who was the Chief of War Operations.

"He's just misunderstood," Vicente, to my surprise, held a different opinion than his close friend. "He's the busiest of the generals and works the hardest. I think we can forgive him if he loses his cool at times. He's as dedicated to the cause as we are."

Dimalanta exhaled sharply. "Misunderstood or not, he's making people pick sides."

"Then you shouldn't be like those people, Ronaldo," Trivino countered. "We're all on the same side."

I sank into my seat, silently listening to their exchange. Perhaps I had judged Vicente Trivino too harshly.

Things must not have been too serious, because just a few minutes later, Colonel Ola peeked out from the office, smiling.

"Señor Gobernador, the President will see you now."

The nervousness reintroduced itself. I had been readying myself, until Luna's dramatic exit threw me off rhythm. Feeling like a student about to enter the principal's office, I forced confidence into my steps as I crossed the room.

Inside, to the left of the entrance, stood a mahogany desk. Behind it sat the President, a man with boyish features, no older than thirty. He was clean-shaven, with a flat-top haircut, and greeted me with a kind, tired smile.

He looked the part in his tuxedo, but he was hardly intimidating—quite the opposite of the general. At once, my nerves dissipated.

"How good of you to come all this way, Gobernador, from Marinduque," the President said, rising to shake my hand. "Please, have a seat."

I took one of the chairs in front of the desk.

Before I could get too comfortable, I noticed another man seated opposite me. He was frail, clearly suffering from an ailment, but his sharp, bright eyes stood out. He extended a hand, which I took.

"Apolinario Mabini. A pleasure to meet you," he introduced himself.

Just like that, I was sitting across from the man they called the leader of the revolution. But there was no halo, no golden glow. Right in front of me, within arm's reach, the President was no different from any other man. In fact, if anything, he seemed slightly intimidated by me.

"How can I help you, Señor?" President Aguinaldo finally asked.

I could not believe what I was about to say. When I had disembarked from the ship that morning, I had not planned on ending up in Malolos. For a moment, I faltered, tempted to abort the mission.

But then I remembered the eyes, staring out from the cage.

I could not be a coward now, as I had been then.

"I would like to request that Marinduque be made an independent military command," I said. The words left an alien aftertaste in my mouth.

The surprise on the President's face was evident. He did not answer immediately, letting my words sink into the room's painted walls.

Then, he glanced behind him at the large map of the Philippines pinned to the wall. The little dot of land, southwest of the Luzon Island, was Marinduque.

"Marinduque," he repeated. "Your province is currently under Heneral Mariano Trias' command. May I ask why you are requesting this?"

I cleared my throat. "General Trias, I believe, already has enough responsibilities in Southern Luzon. With all due respect, I fear a remote island like Marinduque might not receive the attention it needs. With me directly in charge, I could better organize resistance in the island."

I wanted to continue, add more justifications to my huge request, but the words would not leave my mouth. I couldn't tell him I was a seasoned American army veteran from the future with the necessary military credentials for the task.

At once, I realized how poorly I had planned this.

Presidente Aguinaldo shifted in his seat. I could tell immediately that he did not like my idea, but also that he did not want to say it to my face. He glanced several times toward Señor Mabini.

"Give us time to discuss this, Gobernador," Señor Apolinario Mabini said, as if answering a telepathic order from the President. "I assume you will be attending the inauguration?"

I nodded.

"Then you will have the President's answer by then."