The cold night wind gently caressed my cheeks as I stood upon the smooth wooden floor of the upper deck of the Victoria - a large merchant steamer ship of red and white owned by one of my rich colleagues from Madrid. The tides were amazingly calm as the vessel treaded smoothly across the vast ocean, cutting through the waves like a fair maiden in her scarlet dress, gliding across the meadows like a ghost. The gloomy evening is illuminated by the faint silver light coming from the full moon, which, aside from the yellowish radiance of the gas lamps hanging near the captain's cabin, created a strange but amazing ambiance of liveliness and energy that somehow kept me awake throughout the rest of the night.

It has been nearly ten years since I fled from the Philippines after that eventful night at the Delos Santos residence. The spark that was supposed to ignite the flame of the coming revolution was abruptly extinguished, and that same evening bore witness to Señor Ibarra's downfall as his entire life's work was crushed in the blink of an eye all because the very man whom he entrusted his life upon betrayed him and his plans to save one innocent life from the claws of death.

Guilt began to surge through me as the past began to flash back before my eyes. The night before the wedding...every detail of that moment is still so vivid up to this day that I can still feel the pang of regret every time the memory resurfaces. Until now, I constantly ask myself - did I make the right decision when I warned Isagani about the bomb? Was his life, along with the other people present at the fiesta, worth more than the end Señor Ibarra sought? I have allowed a golden opportunity slip our grasp, for almost every person who was in that house were people from the central government. If only everything went according to plan, the chain of command of the entire archipelago would have been in shambles, and no one would be able to consolidate the government troops into a single, comprehensive strategy, making it easy for us to conquer the majority of Luzon once the attacks commence. For what use are good soldiers if there is no one to direct and unify them? What is the sharp sword and the fine shield if the hands that use them do not agree whether to attack or to defend? If only we had succeeded that night...if only I did not allow my feelings to get in the way...the root of all the sufferings in this nation would have been vanquished, and justice would finally be served. If only everything went according to plan, by now half of the peninsula should have been freed - freed from injustice, from persecution, from deception, from slavery.

Unfortunately, it was not so...as it will not be for the years to come, I assume.

Simoun understood what had to be done to turn the country around. For a nation of slaves to prosper, their shackles must first be destroyed - even if it meant paying for it with blood. For the shackles restricts the movement, does not grant comfort to those who wear it and certainly does not give an opportunity to grow.

And yet, the Philippines, being such a nation of slaves, despite experiencing all the torments of wearing these shackles, do not wish to be free of their restraints. In fact, they embrace it! Cling to it as if their very lives depended on it. How I hate my countrymen, not for being inherently stupid, but for choosing to be such! How they embrace their slavery to foreign masters, selling themselves for a bit of coin as if their life and their pride don't amount to much! We have bountiful resources to provide for ourselves, and yet we decided that it was a good idea to work for another nation for our daily bread instead of making use of the gifts of the land to make a living. We know these things, and yet we choose to accept them as they are anyway - happily, if I may say so, and go on with our lives and act as if nothing is wrong.

Simoun was right, and yet Señor Ibarra didn't listen to him. Simoun, had he not freed my body and my mind from the prison I got myself into, I would not have been able to grasp my true purpose and live long enough to fulfill it.

I can still remember that day he entrusted me to play a vital part in his grand scheme - all in detail.

Armed with only a six-shot revolver and a small amount of courage to fire it, I was making my way out of Calle Anloague as instructed by him. Eighteen minutes have already passed since the nitroglycerin bomb was lighted inside the house and yet I was still halfway out of the accursed street, for a throng of guests, guards and spectators blocked my path. My heart pounded heavily as I moved away from the vicinity of the lively fiesta, anticipating the coming of a terrible carnage. The explosion from the house will serve as the attack signal for the army of tulisanes assembled by Simoun himself - men who volunteered to help him orchestrate his little symphony of death for a taste of revenge. The rebels are sure to be many and their attack will be relentless, and I know that many will not make it out alive of the slaughter, should they be lucky enough to survive from the blast.

I felt my own heart pounding faster as I was moving past a squad of civil guards with their rifles at the ready. Simoun was always exceptional in sowing chaos among his enemies, and apparently the gossips he dispersed regarding the coming insurrection have already taken effect. Government troops are now in disarray, for they are now in blind anticipation of an enemy attack - unpredictable, enigmatic, shrouded by the cloud of vague hearsays. The guardia civil are now spread thin across the city, therefore the time is ripe and the moment is advantageous for our allies who will be leading the charge against the Spanish.

However, I had to take a number of detours to get out of the place alive and as of then, the clock was ticking fast and timing is of the essence. The troops were on alert and will not take security measures lightly, and therefore will not hesitate to apprehend or engage possible threats at the drop of the hat. My attire was not at all innocent with all its shabby features, torn sections and filthy appearance; not to mention that I carry a firearm beneath it. It was fortunate, however, that the soldiers stared at me with great indignation as I pass, their eyes filled with malice and disgust - thinking I was just another filthy beggar walking down the street.

"Hey, you're still awake?" said a familiar voice coming from behind me, snapping me back to reality.

I turned around to check the source of the voice. A young man, wearing a black suit and not much older than I am approached me from behind, like a specter trying to haunt a hapless and lonely soul. "I should be the one asking you that." I replied, with a smug smile on my face. "What brings you here, Isagani?"

Isagani gave a huge sigh. "A breath of fresh air, that's all. Why do you want to know?" he asked.

"Just making sure this isn't about Paulita again." I jested.

Isagani gave a short laugh. "It's a long time past, Basilio. Get over it, for goodness' sake! Paulita is just a relic of my past. Besides, who needs her when there are lots of beautiful women around to keep you company? I mean, there is an entire army of them in Europe alone."

"Well, I will surely not argue with you on that, considering everything that we've seen and done during our travels." I laughingly agreed. "But you know what they say - it is hard to quell the flames of your first love."

"Ahh, yes. That is true." Isagani agreed. "But then again, they only said that it's hard, not impossible, yes? It has been...what, almost ten years,? I think that's more than sufficient time to move on..." Isagani added.

"I see." I replied.

There was a brief moment of silence that broke out before Isagani continued whatever he had to say.

"By the way Basilio, how are the preparations going for our project?" he asked.

"Ah! The project, susmaryasantisima! I almost forgot. Worry not, my friend. We're all set." I answered confidently. "Our funds are sufficient and we will have engineers from Spain to help with the construction work. We're bound to start this project in two weeks after we make port."

"I am aware of that aspect. I meant the friars. What of them? I'm sure you're fully aware that they've been against this idea since the beginning of time. Remember what happened to Señor Ibarra when he attempted to-"

"They wouldn't even dare. I thought we already discussed this?!" I interrupted, sounding rather dismissive. "We're under direct orders from the Crown itself. If anything happens, any racket that those wretches try to pull to stop this project, they will be disposed of. Discreetly, of course."

"You seem like a man with a plan." Isagani remarked. "How are you going to...'dispose' of them anyway?"

"Simple." I replied. "Well, we have the resources, we have the authority, we have the men-"

"Wait." interrupted Isagani. "If you do that, we might draw unneccessary attention from the guardia civil. Perhaps even from the Captain-General himself. Who knows? Besides, we-"

"Eh, you need not worry. Everything will be done with discretion. Like we always do." I assured him. "I mean, we have already done this before. This won't be any different. Everybody has a price, Isagani. Always remember that."

"As much as I would love to see those fuckers getting what they deserve, I hope you are right. I don't want this operation to be over before it even starts." he replied in a rather threatening tone.

"You worry too much. We've been through worse." I retorted as I reached for a pack of cigarettes from my coat pocket, pulled a stick and placed it between my lips. "By the way Isagani, I heard things regarding the current Captain General of the Philippines. Good things. 'A man of virtue', the papers in Madrid said. Have you any comments about that? I just thought that you are the proper authority for this matter since you met with the Palace appointees back when we were still in Madrid."

"Bah! They're all the same, those Spaniards." Isagani growled. "Hypocrites, I say! It's as if you never learned at all, Basilio. They are all wolves in sheep's clothing."

"Perhaps." I replied as I lighted a cigarette and exhaled a puff of smoke. "But you know, back there in Madrid, I met a former official in the Philippines by the name of Enrique Alvarez. Good man. I didn't even have the slightest idea about who the man was back then when I first met him, but he was peculiarly ecstatic when he met me at a coffee shop, as if he just met with an old friend he hasn't talked to in years."

"And?" urged Isagani, interested in my little story.

"I learned that he was the one who pleaded my case with the Captain General to get me out of jail ten years back, for he knew I was innocent. The old man was so happy meeting me he almost pulled my arm out of its socket as he shook my hand. Remember that incident at the panciteria?" I replied.

"Ahh, yes." nodded Isagani. "And I believe we were rounded up by the guardia civil at that time because of his associates...due to a speculation that we were 'inciting civil unrest' because of the damn pasquinades we never printed in the first place. Fantastic. So he's the one who got you out of prison, eh?"

"Well...no. It was Simoun, actually. He...pulled a few favors for me. You know very well that the Captain-General at that time listens to Simoun more than anybody else." I answered as I huffed and puffed a cloud of smoke. "Señor Alvarez filed his resignation the day his plea for my release was denied. He'd rather leave behind his good position rather than condoning injustice. What a man! But anyway, my point is we should not rush to generalizations. Not everyone from Spain is our enemy, just as much as not everyone from the Philippines is our friend. I mean, for goodness' sake, take Doña Victorina for example!"

Isagani replied with a short laugh.

"I see your point, Basilio. Well said." confirmed Isagani. "But I am just wondering - of all people, why you? No offense. But what is Simoun hoping to obtain by getting you out of prison? Knowing that guy, all he cares about are profits."

I paused for a moment, inhaling a generous amount of smoke, and puffed another one into the open.

"...He was organizing an uprising to free the islands from Spanish control..." I replied. "Such an ambitious undertaking, one might say, considering the fact that the Iberian wretches are heavily entrenched within the country."

"And what was your role in all the...fiasco?" asked Isagani. "I mean, he would not have gotten you out of prison if it was for nothing, right?"

"...Simoun needed skilled men that he can trust to aid his efforts. That night, he assigned me to round up any stragglers from the fiesta and convince them to take up arms against the government. Apparently, that did not happen because there was a certain 'someone' who meddled with the affair instead of doing what he was told."

"Hey! I know it's my fault but he was going to kill innocent people! There were children in there! Dios mio! You'd rather let them die, Basilio?!" he answered, trying to defend himself.

"Oh ho, it was never about saving the innocent in the first place. All you cared about was saving Paulita." I parried. "You should have let that bitch die, along with that bastard hunchback Juanito."

Isagani paused. "Such a cold heart! Are you telling me you will allow Juli to die if you were under the same circumstances?"

"Well, if you ask me, I'd rather let her die if she was nothing more than a whore. But if this is a question of my loyalty to what I believe in, then yes! Anything for the motherland, Isagani! I will gladly offer my life for her, if needed be!" I replied with a strong tone. "Great successes come with great sacrifice. What gain would I have of my happiness if the rest of the nation suffers? Such matters do not even qualify as dilemna! Don't you see, Isagani? The Spanish government has turned our countrymen into dogs! A few innocent lives lost is a small price to pay!"

"I understand where you're coming from but your willingness to murder innocent children just to destroy your enemies is pure madness! Such way of thinking will only lead to tyranny. Even if the revolution succeeded, what use would it be to overthrow tyranny only to replace it with another one of our own?" he replied.

"Tyranny, you say? Isagani, we are purging the nation of its sickness! Did it never occur to you why our land is rich, and yet our people poor?! Do you not agree that it is right to take what is ours, and that it is our responsibility to do so by any means necessary?! The circumstances might have been dire back then, but such an opportunity will never present itself again once we allow it to pass. And let's face it: you would never have done what you did if Paulita wasn't there. That 'honorable act' was all about Paulita and you know it! The only reason why you're you're so stern on justifying your morals is that you don't know what it's like to lose everything. Those people...took everything from me, and mark my words, they will not stop there because they are confident that their day of reckoning is far from happening."

I took a pause upon realizing what words were coming out of my mouth.

"Besides, there's no such thing as...ugh, forget it, brother. I-I'm sorry. We never should have discussed this." I apologized as I threw the half-burnt cigarette into the ocean.

Isagani gave a sigh as he replied, "It's all right. All is forgiven, brother. But do you think...do you think we can really pull this off?"

"Yes, I believe so." I replied with a straight face. "Our intentions are pure and our cause is just. God looks upon us with favor. Remember that, Isagani."

"Aye. I'll remember that." Isagani acknowledged as he pulled out a cigarette from a pack stored on his coat's pocket.

"Anyway, let us divert ourselves to more pressing matters." Isagani abruptly continued as he lighted the free end of the cigarette in his mouth, "Months ago, I've received letters - telegram transmissions intercepted by our contacts inside Intramuros about the opium trade there. Word has it that the local network of Chinese traders made partnerships with the diocese to help them smuggle these drugs, allowing the traders to do business freely in exchange for a cut in the profits. The Church is untouchable by the government. That bloody ban on narcotics is useless!"

"Not to worry. This won't be a problem for us." I replied. "Who are their markets, anyway?"

"The insulares and the local rich folk, as per my sources. Although...my contacts have also heard that they may be selling opium to students as well. Well, that was just a rumor, though." Isagani reported as he exhaled a stream of smoke in the air. "We don't have a fix on a location with regards to their area of operations as of yet, but...we have a list of certain persons of interest who may have information we can use."

"Students, eh? Then we have a problem." I replied. "Assemble our contacts as soon as possible. By the time we make port, I'm going to have to meet with an old friend of mine."