Señor Alcantara, the alférez, the tenientes, and the cadets streamed into the small room quietly. Their shadows stretched along the walls, dancing in the flickering light cast by the sole lantern at the center of the table. One panel of the Capiz shell window was slightly opened, letting in the scent of damp soil and the croaking of frogs and chirping of crickets from outside.
The conference room in Gasan's presidencia municipal was only half the size of the one in the Casa Real, but it was just enough to accommodate eight people comfortably. The wooden chairs scraped against the stone floor, loud in the otherwise silent night, as the officers took their seats.
