After Halang's demonstration of the musket's superiority against primitive bows and arrows to Datu Zullah, the rest followed eagerly to see what Magalhaes had in store for them. The Captain General led them to the shore where they traveled by boat to Victoria. The ship was the finest in his small fleet and Magalhaes was proud to act as its tour guide. All the while, Mallaca followed him like a shadow, translating every word he uttered and every questions he answered.

  Datu Zullah leaned to Humabara to whisper something in his ear as the tour commenced. Humabara nodded and spoke to Magalhaes. "What's the use of a ship if most of the fighting will be on land?"

  "Ah, good question my brother," said Magalhaes after hearing it translated by Mallaca. He walked towards the end of the cannon array and tapped the black metal body of one of the armament. "Sergeant Mortez, show our guest how one of these ladies work."

  The balding sergeant screamed at his men to be as snappy as they could and all readied the armaments before Mortez popped another vein on his neck. Like a practiced artillery crew, Mortez and his men lined up the cannons, preparing all their fuse to be lit.

  The rajah raised his hand to stop his servants from waving their fans behind him. "What will it do, brother?"

  Magalhaes walked and stopped beside him. "It is best to show you. It is also better to cover your ears."

  The natives covered their ears as Magalhaes instructed. Then, he watched the sergeant begin arming all the artillery, moving with practiced efficiency and loading the ten pounders with ease.

  Magalhaes smiled confidently, after this he was sure he'll have the rajah's confidence. This will surely impress them, he thought. He personally didn't want to interfere with the natives' tribe wars. But he already made a promise and he didn't want to break it. Especially if he wanted to return and use this navigational route again. He needed to have friends here and having a rajah as one will make things easier. He didn't worry nor thought about his enemy all that much. Kalipulako or whatever his name, will have a handful if he wishes to fight Magalhaes' crew. No primitive weapon could overpower a cannon. He smiled at the rajah once again. Kalipulako will just be a pitiful mess after Magalhaes was done with him.

  Mortez stood in front of him, hand on his forehead. He intended it to look like a salute to impress the natives, but to Magalhaes it looked more like the sergeant was just shading himself from the sun's heat. His heavy and crooked morion helmet didn't help either. "Awaiting your orders, capt'n!" Mortez said with his signature high-pitch voice.

  Magalhaes instructed his men to aim for the open sea and signaled the sergeant to unleash hell. Mortez shouted the orders and the thunderous bellow of the cannon shook the wooden deck.

  "Fire!" Another earsplitting explosion followed the seargent's shrill command.

  "Fire!" His flabby face vibrated as the force of the successive explosion drowned each other.

  "Fire!"

  The natives ducked down and hunkered for cover as another explosion reverberated. Some even huddled behind their shaking ruler. All, slave and master alike, were horrified by display of the foreigners' otherworldly armaments. As they panicked, all cannon balls landed with a giant splash, creating a huge column of foam and water.

  Magalhaes smiled at how the noise and carnage terrified the natives. A good sign, he thought. If their enemies try to attack them head on... they'll be shredded to bits by cannon fire. No flint arrow heads, wood, bamboo, or obsidian will touch his men, he convinced himself.

  Mortez and the other sailors roared in delight after all the armaments were fired. The smell of gun smoke filled the air, choking some of the natives. They all coughed and spat to clear their throats as everything quieted down.

  Magalhaes nodded to himself. Surely, this all would help them in the coming massacre of Kalipuko's men. The captain general smiled. Over all, it was a nice and perfect day to start killing things.

  The ship's deck shook, and smoke suffocated all the natives. They were still all trembling in fright as the white men exhibited their martial might. Humabara himself, almost lost the control of his bladder when the pale strangers' weapons roared to life. The Captain General even likened the power of the cannons to thousands of spears hitting the same object at the same time. It was incredible how these men harnessed such power, the rajah thought. He laid his hands on the warm barrel of the giant weapon. And an idea formed on his head...It'll only take one spark to burn a whole village down with it.

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  "Imagine the possibilities," he whispered as the rest of his people milled and crowded around the cannons.

  When the firing was finished, Magalhaes excused himself to change his attire and left some of his men to entertain Humabara and Zullah. The little crew of Victoria with an assortment of instruments began to sing baudy ballads and incongruous sea shanties from their country, dancing merrily in the deck as the native watched and echoed their actions.

  Humabara didn't mind their performances, his attention was on something else. He leaned towards Zullah. "What do you think?"

  "Incredible. One of this can change the course of the battle."

  Humabara clapped his hands to get Old Banglud's attention. His assistant quickly came but his old bones acted up and Old Banglud had to stop to massage his arthritic knees. Humabara met him halfway, not out of mercy but out of impatience.

  "How's the supply gathering?"

  Old Banglud bowed down. "Smooth as expected. We already collected half the amount, master."

  "Good, I knew I could count on you, Banglud. You are, as always, loyal and trustworthy."

  Zullah lit his pipe and spoke, puffing smoke at every interval. "My Rajah what are you planning to do?"

  "Let's just say I want to barter." Humabara smiled, still eyeing one of the cannon.

  Zullah followed his line of sight and nodded. "That's a wise notion."

  Barboza's arrival cut their conversation short. The man veered from left to right, visibly drunk.

  "Where's the Captain Gen'ral?" he shouted but no one answered.

  Barboza's men followed behind him, all of them in different states of drunkenness. Only the crewman named Delcano was sober enough to acknowledge the Rajah and the Datu's presence. Barboza heaved and puked on the wooden deck right in front the Captain General's guest. An awkward silence followed as shock and disdain curtained the rajah's face and his small retinue.

  Delcano shook his head in dismay and guided his flustered captain to Magalhaes' quarters, whispering his apologies to everyone within earshot. He had to half drag his captain to get him inside before he fell over, embarrassing them even more.

  Humabara turned to their entertainers and sighed in disgust. They were all buffoons and ingrates. Not worthy of his presence. Not worthy at all, he thought. He tried to distract himself to gain back his composure. But not a second passed when he heard someone scream. Their entertainers went on, ignoring the ruckus inside their Captain General's cabin. He strained his ears to hear the muffled sound inside the cabin but the clashing cymbals and mistuned trumpets drowned it. He could only catch bits of their exchange. But one thing's for sure men were arguing inside Magalhaes' quarters. From the tone of their voice Humabara assumed that the Captain General was admonishing Barboza's rude behavior. And it was justified, the fellow was an atrocious bile, and a sorry excuse for a captain.

  After a minute of silence, Magalhaes emerged from his quarters with Mallaca tailing behind. He only wore a simple white shirt and brown leather trousers, no helmet or armor, making him look like any other crewman of the ship. He smiled and bowed to the rajah.

  "I'm deeply sorry about this." He motioned his hand towards the puke stained deck. One of his crewman was already halfway through mopping the mess. Magalhaes cleared his throat and stood confidently. "I will send a messenger to Kalipulako before we start any offensive against him. I want to be sure he understands what's coming for him. I will draft the letter myself and send Mallaca to be our emissary to convey it to him personally."

  Humabara gave a nod. It was surprising how the captain general contrasted his men and how he was so different compared to Barboza. He told the Captain General that it would be better if they continue their planning against Kalipulako tomorrow.

  Magalhaes agreed and sent the rajah away.

  Humabara huffed in disgust as their small boat traveled the distance between the ship and the shore of Zubu. He could barely contain himself, fist clinched and neck veins twitching.

  "Ignominious bastard! They've been drinking and eating my food without even a simple thank you and what do I get?" He let the question hang for a breath longer. "They couldn't even give the least of their respect to me. That drunkard and lecher, Barboza, will pay dearly!"

  "Calm down master," Old Banglud said, a hint of genuine concern written on his face.

  "Calm down? I have heard enough stories from my servants about that man. They have no right to maltreat my serfs! Have they forgotten their place here? Do I have to remind them, myself?"

  "Remember the end goal, master. Never forget," the ancient adviser said to his rajah.

  The boat swayed in the coral-filled waters like a leaf falling gently down the ground from atop the canopy.

  "Don't worry, rajah," Zullah blew a puff of smoke. The fine smell of the datu's tobacco had a calming effect to Humabara's rage. "I have plans for that white rat-face after we settle our affairs with Kalipulako. They'll pay for their impudence. I'll see to it that they get their due. But for now, we watch and observe them...and wait for the moment to strike."