I'm coming back to Manila

Prologue

1800. Manila de Bay, Ship port, Manila

The blonde Russian could hear faint, whispers. "Where am I?" He asks himself in his mind. He couldn't remember what happened from the past days. All he remembered what his mother, Krul. Oh, everloving Krul Tepes, his mother whispered sweet nothings from his ear. Apologizing about her rash decision, she kissed his forehead as her last parting gift along with a necklace locket containing a photo of his infant self and his mother on the other side. "I am very sorry for deciding this, Mikaela but as of the state of Russia, I simply cannot let you die here where death only awaits you. I want you to be safe.

I am sending you somewhere where no one would identify you. A refugee and the only living relative of Progenitor Krul Tepes of Sanguinem. Free from death, from harm, especially free from this country. Be safe and always remember that I will forever love you my son."

Back to reality, Mikaela hears people, talking in a language he is so not familiar much. He couldn't any of it but the sounds of their voices had the tone of power. Wriggling around, he could makeshift that he was inside of a room. People from different country, Mika supposes. Their different clothing gave away that they were exiled people. Just like him. All of them with different age gap. His clothes were collecting dust and is covered with dirt. His only belonging was the small leather case bag Krul had packed for him. Mostly his clothes and necessities he needs. His blonde hair disheveled - having its wild tame hairstyle. He was scared, he didn't know these people, much less the country he was in. He tried to look for someone who can understand Russian but no such luck. It would give him a hard time to understand their language. "Pssst! Hey you!" Says a young man with a English accent. He could tell since Krul had sent servants for him to learn the English incase something happens. Thank God he mastered English. "Do you where we are?" Mika asks in his Russian-ish accent. He hopes that his English and accent is understandable because he didn't know any other language aside from Russian, German, and English.

"Not a clue." The man says, scartching his head. Even he was clueless about their location. He supposed that he'll just have to find out soon. The metal door came open and two people, with features of those people. He knew these features. Ah yeah! Spanish. Are they in Spain? The two spanish men wore uniforms - military ones with a rifle slinging at their backs. A crew of a Spanish flag was engrave on the brooch pinned on their chest part of the clothing. A roaring lion with shield and two swords clashed together forming a 'x' shape. He didn't know Spanish. Krul never had time to let her learn her European words so it might take him for a while to understand each other.

He just hopes that they understand English much.

"Gather around. Fall in line in exiting. No pushing! Everyone in this room must present their passport." The guard with almond eyes looked menacing. Not a word of the man said had engraved in Mikaela's mind. He ushered himself towards the man he recently talked and asked if he understood what he just said. "He said to fall in line. We're leaving this room, I guess. Probably we're already in our destination." The man picked up his belongings, taking the lead I'm falling in line. Mika did the same grabbing his small booklet. The Russian text of Passport was in it. He looked at his document. The name printed Mikaela Tepes in it. Putting it back from his pants pockets, going to the long line of people waiting their turn to be released in this place.

Hours, minutes, seconds have passed and finally it was Mika's turn. He couldn't see the man he'd talked. A shame, he couldn't thanked the man for helping him with the language barrier. Looking closer, Mika could see the visage of the soldier. He had a mean look in his eyes like he was so bored in his job. "Pasaporte, Señor?" The man asked. Mika gave his before looking closely at his document. The man tried to elaborate the writing but cannot. He looked Mikaela from head to toe. He was conscious, he hoped that there was nothing wrong his appearance. The second soldier finally spoke up - asking in rigid English. "What is your name, Señor?"