How badly I wanted to be in a quiet room all by myself.
The events in Sta. Cruz had been physically and mentally exhausting, and I had been looking forward to a quiet day or two in the Casa Real.
But alas, it would seem that God had other plans.
As soon as I arrived—without even being able to greet my daughter—I set out again.
The townsmen whispered to themselves as I crossed the plaza, accompanied by Dimalanta, Sargento Guzman, and a dozen soldiers.
Boac should have been abuzz about our impressive feat on the beaches of Kasily by now, but that had been buried by a heavier event. Now they whispered about a potential civil war or someone getting hanged.
We arrived at my former home, where the Alcantaras were now staying. I was impressed to learn that Colonel Abad had stationed men to guard the residence. Two stood at the main entrance, one at the back door, and the Sargento Segundo was stationed inside himself—all Bulaceños, without local allegiances.
