The sun climbed high over the sweltering tropics as the Aragonese flagship Resolución coasted gently into the harbor of Iloilo. From its polished deck, Prince Lancelot stood beside Juliette, eyes tracing the verdant landscape ahead—dense jungles, winding rivers, and hills speckled with stone terraces. The city below was alive, not with cannon smoke, but with chatter and construction.
Banners fluttered over government buildings bearing both the sun crest of Aragon and the native emblems of the local sultanate. This was no conquest. This was a promise.
As the gangway descended, Lancelot was the first to disembark, greeted by the island's provisional governor, a wiry man in white linen named Emilio Balase. Behind him stood farmers, scholars, and soldiers—not in rows, but in shared purpose.
"Your Highness," Emilio said with a respectful bow, "Welcome to Panay."
