General Luna: The Rewaken

Chapter 1: The Awakening

Chapter 1: The Awakening
Madrid, Spain – 1886

Antonio Luna stood at the edge of the Plaza Mayor, the heart of Madrid, his gaze fixed on the bustling scene before him. The square, once a site of royal coronations and public executions, now teemed with life—merchants hawking their wares, couples strolling arm in arm, and students like him debating the latest political pamphlets from across Europe. The air was thick with the scent of roasted chestnuts and the hum of animated conversations in Spanish, Catalan, and the occasional Filipino dialect.

It was here, amidst the ancient architecture and the fervor of ideas, that Antonio first felt the stirrings of a revolution that had yet to reach his homeland. His heart swelled with a mixture of pride and anger as he recalled the latest letter from his brother Juan, who had written of growing unrest in the Philippines. The ilustrados—young, educated Filipinos like themselves—were beginning to see the cracks in the façade of Spanish colonial rule. Yet, while Juan's letter brimmed with hope, Antonio felt only a burning frustration.

Spain, with all its grandeur, had become a cage. The more Antonio learned about European liberalism and nationalism, the more he realized how far his own country lagged behind. It was in Madrid's smoky cafes and musty libraries that he first encountered the works of European philosophers and revolutionaries, their words igniting a fire within him. He devoured the writings of José Rizal, another Filipino student in Spain, whose novel *Noli Me Tangere* had exposed the brutalities of Spanish rule. But while Rizal’s pen sought reform, Antonio increasingly felt that only the sword could sever the chains of oppression.

"Antonio, are you even listening?" A voice cut through his thoughts, pulling him back to the present.

He turned to see Félix Resurrección Hidalgo, a fellow Filipino and a celebrated painter, regarding him with a wry smile. Hidalgo, like Luna, had come to Spain to pursue his studies, but where Luna was all intensity and fervor, Hidalgo exuded a calm, almost detached demeanor.

"I'm sorry, Félix," Antonio said, shaking his head as if to clear it. "What were you saying?"

"I was saying," Hidalgo replied, "that the art exhibit next week will feature works from all over Europe. It’s the perfect opportunity for us to showcase the talent of Filipinos on an international stage. Juan’s latest painting will be there—have you seen it?"

Antonio nodded, though his mind was still elsewhere. "Yes, *Spoliarium*. It’s a masterpiece, no doubt. But I can’t help feeling that while we paint, write, and discuss, our people suffer."

Hidalgo raised an eyebrow. "And what do you propose, Antonio? Abandon our studies, return to the Philippines, and take up arms?"

"Perhaps," Antonio replied, his voice low but firm. "Perhaps it’s time we did more than just talk. The Spanish government won’t grant us our freedom out of kindness. If we want change, we must be willing to fight for it."

Hidalgo regarded him with a mix of admiration and concern. "You’ve always been a firebrand, Antonio. But remember, revolutions are not won by passion alone. They require strategy, patience, and most of all, unity. And right now, our countrymen are far from united."

Antonio sighed, knowing his friend spoke the truth. The Philippines was a land of fragmented loyalties, with regionalism and class divisions weakening the push for independence. But even so, he could not shake the feeling that destiny was calling him to do more.

"I know," Antonio said, his voice softening. "But I can’t stand by any longer while others suffer. I’ve seen too much here in Spain—too much injustice, too much arrogance. It’s time I returned to our homeland, Félix. I need to see for myself what is happening there."

Hidalgo nodded slowly, recognizing the determination in Antonio’s eyes. "If that’s what you feel you must do, then do it. But remember, my friend, that the path you’re choosing is a dangerous one. There are many in Manila who would see us dead before they allowed us to succeed."

Antonio smiled grimly. "Dangerous or not, it’s a path I must walk. For our people, and for our future."

As the two men stood in the shadow of Madrid’s grand plaza, Antonio Luna made a silent vow. He would return to the Philippines, not as a mere observer, but as a man ready to fight for the freedom and dignity of his people. The fire that had been kindled in Europe would soon blaze in the heart of the archipelago.

### **End of Chapter 1**