Chapter 149: A Report Concerning the Immigrant Population

“The current immigrants have been settled on their lands for the past year. However, we have attracted the attention of the United States. They have sent formal protests to the Spanish Empire, claiming that we are receiving immigrants they need themselves. This has alarmed the Spanish king and the court.

It seems that the war against France has limited their ability to fully investigate the situation for now, but the mayor of Antioquia is under heavy pressure and plans to step down under the pretext of illness. The next mayoral election will likely take place in September.”

Carlos frowned.”That’s bad. I’ll be in Spain during those months, so I won’t be able to present myself as a candidate.”

The aide nodded.”Exactly. We need to find a candidate willing to follow you—someone from the Iberian elite who is also willing to rebel with us. That, unfortunately, narrows our options considerably.

Additionally, our contacts in Spain report that your brother is preparing to send one of his confidants here. Most likely, this is an attempt to move your son’s liquor factories back to Spain using laws and political pressure.”

Carlos narrowed his eyes and took a slow puff.”He moved faster than I expected… It seems Father truly is in his final days.”

He sighed softly, his thoughts turning to the old duke. His father had always been severe and disciplined, a man who served the king with ruthless efficiency. He was considered one of the most dignified nobles of the realm—fair, impartial, and meticulous. Even in business, he never favored either the ducal household or his own sons.

As for his brother, Carlos had always seen him as remarkably similar to Francisco: curious, inclined toward science, and deeply influenced by the Enlightenment. He, too, was dissatisfied with the Bourbon reforms, though he never voiced it openly. That was precisely why this sudden aggression puzzled Carlos. No matter how he examined the situation, it did not make sense—there had to be another motive behind his brother’s attempt to reclaim the industries and move them back to Spain.

Carlos frowned slightly and murmured,”It seems I’ll have to ask him directly once I return.”

He straightened.”I’ll contact my connections to find someone with enough prestige from the Iberian Peninsula who could become mayor of Medellín. What about the governor?”

The aide answered,”He intends to return to the army. His current position will likely earn him a promotion to colonel. We don’t yet know who will replace him. As always, there isn’t much real choice.

The court is debating between appointing a stronger governor to maintain control over Antioquia or a more enlightened one who might ease tensions in New Granada. For now, Juan Pablo Pérez appears to be the interim choice, though I’m unsure how much real influence he holds.”

Carlos’s eyes lit up.”That’s good news for us. It means Antioquia won’t have a strong leader for at least the next few months. If we act while this vacuum exists, we may be able to take effective control of the region.”

The aide was momentarily speechless at his master’s bold—almost radical—approach. Still, he nodded. Strategically speaking, it was a rare and perfect opportunity.

Carlos then asked, his expression turning solemn,”What about the Gulf of Urabá? Do we already control the area? You know we must be able to bring Krüger and his troops into Antioquia. I don’t want Spanish officers sniffing around our affairs.”

The aide shrugged.”Spanish control there is extremely limited. The real power lies with several local families, some supported by the British and others by the Danes. The forts are practically useless due to the Darién Jungle, so I wouldn’t worry too much about them.

That said, I recommend we deal with the Castro de Gómez family. They’ve been overly invested in opposing us and have begun sending small groups of men toward the gulf after noticing our use of the route to bring in immigrants.”

Carlos nodded.”Good. Anything else?”

The aide hesitated, then continued,”We have a problem with the immigrants. At present, we have Irish and Italians, but none of them speak Spanish. Considering that the young master also plans to bring people from the Qing Empire in the East, as well as Germans, we’re beginning to face serious educational and administrative difficulties.

I recommend building Spanish-language schools to teach them the language. It would make their integration—and eventual annexation—far easier.”

Carlos fell silent, thinking it through. Teaching a language meant additional expense, but then he remembered the children Francisco had personally taught. His son had plans—ambitious ones—and for those plans to succeed, he would need people who could truly follow him. Language was essential.

“Allocate part of the treasury to the construction of a new school,” Carlos finally said. “Make attendance a requirement for obtaining additional land.

We’ll offer a basic allotment to all settlers, but extra land will come with conditions. I know many of the Irish are extremely hardworking and develop land quickly—they’ve already asked about expanding their holdings. This will give them an incentive to learn.”

The aide nodded, visibly impressed. It was an elegant solution.

“There’s one more issue,” he added.”Nearly twenty percent of the immigrants have fallen ill. We urgently need more specialists to reduce the death rate. Additionally, some groups have customs that complicate matters—particularly regarding hygiene.

Some refuse to bathe, believing that both hot and cold water are harmful to the body. Only during very hot weather do they occasionally bathe in rivers, and even then, reluctantly.”

Carlos frowned.”But here, most people understand the importance of keeping the body clean, don’t they?”

The aide gave him a wry smile.”Not exactly, sir. Perhaps because you’ve mostly been surrounded by mestizos and the elite, you’ve come to believe that. In reality, many Spanish immigrants share the idea that frequent bathing is harmful.

The mestizos were strongly influenced by indigenous traditions. From their experience, they believe that cleanliness reduces illness and death. However, as you know, most Spaniards do not regard indigenous knowledge highly. To them, it is the wisdom of the defeated—pagan or savage knowledge, unworthy of trust.”

Carlos was genuinely surprised. When he thought about it more carefully, it made sense. He had never lived among ordinary Spanish settlers—only among officials, landowners, and merchants.

“It seems I’ll need to speak with Grandma María,” he said thoughtfully. “But do you think they’ll be willing to listen?”

The aide shrugged.”Perhaps. The Irish might be more receptive—they have a tribal past themselves, as Celts, and are often more open to unfamiliar ideas. The Italians, take pride in being from the land where the Enlightenment was born, so they do not oppose new ideas, even when those ideas come from indigenous knowledge.

The Spaniards, on the other hand… as I said, they have little respect for anything associated with indigenous customs.”

Carlos frowned again.”Have we been able to attract any French immigrants?”

“It’s difficult at the moment,” the aide replied. “With the war between Spain and France, many fear this could be a trap—or that they’d be hated in New Granada, which is still Spanish territory. They’re far more likely to emigrate to the United States.”

Carlos sighed heavily.”This cursed war… Very well. Focus on convincing the Irish for now. I’ll think about the rest later.

I need to go to the school. I’ve heard there’s been a case of corruption. One of Mutis’s former apprentices was furious when he learned about it—he even threatened to return to Bogotá if the matter isn’t resolved.”

The aide lowered his head slightly.”I agree with him, sir. I’ve heard about it as well, and people in Medellín are upset. If this isn’t handled properly, it could seriously damage the school’s reputation.”

Carlos looked surprised.”Wasn’t it just that a teacher slapped a student? I was told it wasn’t hard and didn’t even leave a mark.”

Seeing Carlos like this, the aide knew his master was likely being lied to, so he could only explain carefully.

“Sir, the child is currently unconscious. The boy’s father, in a fit of rage, went to beat the teacher and nearly killed him, which drew the guards’ attention. They are now waiting for your decision to determine whether the teacher, the father, or both should be punished.”

Carlos’s blood boiled. With a thunderous roar, he shouted,”Did you just say the teacher beat a child until he lost consciousness? That bastard. Go call Martín—immediately. He’s coming with me. I want to see if that man still dares to lie to my face. Call some servants as well. If he cannot give a proper explanation, I will beat him to death myself today.”

Seeing his master in such a fury, the aide nodded quickly and hurried out, terrified of becoming the outlet for Carlos’s anger.

Still seething, Carlos muttered in a chilling voice,”I knew I should never have trusted that Spanish bastard.”

He grabbed a sword and stormed outside. He had no intention of waiting for the man to be brought to him—he would go himself. The cold gleam of the blade made the servants at the door break into sweat.

It seemed that today, blood might truly be spilled.

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