Chapter 19 - Rebellion (Part 1)
Year of Our Lord 1271 — The Manilan Commonwealth, dusk over the Bay of Two Suns.
I. The Restless City
The monsoon had ended, but the air still carried the heaviness of storms.Nueva Zaragoza glimmered under rain-washed skies — towers of coral stone, domes of copper, the harbor crowded with merchant ships from Cathay and Formossa.
But beneath the hum of trade lay something darker.
Rumors whispered through the markets: new taxes, soldiers marching inland, a friar executed for heresy, and a governor grown old and distant.At night, fishermen along the Pasig saw strange bonfires on the hills — signals, they said, from the old gods.
Governor Hernán de Toledo felt the unease like a fever beneath his skin.In the palace of white limestone, he stood before a map of the islands, marked with ink and blood.
"If I move too harshly," he told his aide, "we ignite revolt.If I do nothing, it will come anyway."
From the doorway, Fray Rodrigo entered — older now, his eyes hollow yet burning with conviction.
"The fire is already lit, Governor," he said quietly. "It began the day we let the heathens stand beside the faithful at the altar."
Hernán turned.
"And yet it was that very mercy that kept the empire whole."
Rodrigo shook his head.
"Mercy without obedience breeds pride. And pride is the mother of rebellion."
Outside, thunder rolled again — distant, but coming closer.
II. The Meeting at the River
At the same hour, beyond the city's walls, Datu Saranaya met his allies beneath the shadow of an ancient banyan tree.Lanterns flickered; the air smelled of wet earth and smoke.
Around him gathered chiefs from the islands, Chinese merchants weary of imperial tariffs, and a handful of Aragonese deserters who no longer called themselves loyal.
"Brothers," said Saranaya, his voice low but steady, "we swore alliance to an empire that promised peace and faith.But now our people labor for coin that never reaches them, and the priests call our fathers demons."
He raised his hand.
"We do not seek to destroy Aragon. We seek to remind it what it was meant to be — a realm of light, not chains."
The men bowed their heads.A captain handed him a small banner — crimson cloth marked with a white sunburst, symbol of their cause.Saranaya accepted it, knowing there was no turning back.
"Then let the dawn belong to us."
III. Shadows in the Cathedral
That same night, Fray Rodrigo prayed alone in the half-lit cathedral.Rain dripped through cracks in the roof, striking the marble floor like beads of a rosary.
He sensed something — a tremor in the air.Through the heavy doors came a figure cloaked in sea-mist.A messenger, pale and trembling, knelt before him.
"Father, the docks... the docks are burning."
Rodrigo froze.From afar came the toll of bells — not for Mass, but alarm.The flame had found its mark.
IV. The First Clash
By midnight, the harbor was chaos.Warehouses burned like lanterns; galleons moored at the pier went up in sheets of orange fire.Native warriors and disillusioned soldiers stormed the fort, their cries mingling with the roar of cannon.
Hernán rode through the smoke, sword drawn, his silver hair damp with rain and sweat.He shouted to the men on the walls:
"Hold your fire until you see their banners! Spare those who yield — they are our brothers still!"
But the night obeyed no command.The first cannonball struck the bell tower; it fell in a shudder of stone and flame.The city of two suns became a city of burning stars.
At the edge of the chaos, Saranaya led his men through the alleys toward the palace.Each step was heavy with memory — every street corner a ghost of what he'd helped build.
A soldier fell before him, clutching his chest.
"They were warned," the man gasped. "Someone told them—"
Saranaya's eyes narrowed.
"Fray Rodrigo," he whispered."Even now, he prays for the fire he has called down."
V. The Governor's Dilemma
In the governor's hall, Hernán and Rodrigo faced each other across the long table, lit by the red light of burning ships.
"You brought this upon us," Hernán said, voice shaking with rage."Your sermons made enemies of men who would have been our sons!"
Rodrigo slammed his staff upon the floor.
"And you, Governor, made sons of heathens!Better a city in ashes than a kingdom in sin."
Outside, thunder cracked — or perhaps cannon.The air trembled.
"Then we are both guilty," Hernán said bitterly. "And only God shall judge which of us He forgives."
He turned toward his guard.
"Sound the retreat to the citadel. Gather the civilians.The battle for Manila has begun."
VI. The Dawn That Never Came
By morning, the city was a ruin of smoke and screams.The sky glowed red; the sea mirrored it like molten glass.Ships sank, fort walls cracked, and through the haze came the cries of both tongues — "Viva Aragon!" and "Para sa Bayan!"
The cross on the cathedral's roof had fallen, its iron arms buried in ash.
On the hill beyond the burning docks, Saranaya stood watching the sun struggle to rise.His father's banner hung in his hands, wet with rain and blood.
"It begins," he murmured."The fire beneath the cross."
End of Chapter 19