Chapter 215: The Meaning of a Nation

“Are you my grandfather?” Isabella asked, her eyes filled with curiosity as she studied the old man who had appeared so suddenly—the same man her older brother had written about during the past year.

Kruger’s heart softened. When he had seen Francisco, he had wept, for the boy carried the first living news of his daughter and wife. But Isabella was different. Her face was almost a perfect reflection of Anna’s—especially in the quiet maturity that had once shone in his daughter’s eyes when he returned home from war.

He drew a slow breath and glanced behind him at his soldiers. With a small motion of his hand, he ordered them to disperse. Then he looked back at the girl.

“That’s right. I am your grandfather, Johann Kruger. I must admit, I am surprised a little girl like you can speak German—and as well as your brother.”

Isabella’s face lit with pride, but the mention of Francisco quickly changed her expression.

“How is my brother? Is he well? He sends me letters, but Father says people sometimes lie in letters to make others feel better. I’m afraid he might be lying. Does he eat enough? I heard food is scarce in Germany.”

Kruger smiled gently and lowered himself to her height.

“Food can indeed be scarce… but your brother is a wealthy man in Hannover. He lives quite comfortably. I suspect you know him well—he enjoys luxury and is not fond of suffering.”

Isabella pressed her small hands against her chest and let out a relieved breath.

“That’s good… that’s very good. I also heard you are a general. Is it true that generals must guide many soldiers to defend their country and the families of their people?”

Kruger felt a flicker of discomfort at the question. He took Isabella’s hand and began to walk slowly beside her.

“Why do you wish to know?”

Her face grew serious, conflicted.

“Because I want to be a general. I want to protect my family from the people who hurt my father. Before my brother left for Europe, he asked me to protect Father. At first I didn’t understand… but after I saw Father wounded, I knew there are bad people who want to harm him. And I want to stop them.”

The determination in her eyes was difficult for Kruger to face. He hesitated, then answered with quiet sadness.

“A general is someone willing to sacrifice even his own family for the sake of his country. His duty is to the whole nation,.”

Isabella shook her head firmly.

“I don’t like the nation. I am criolla, my friends are mestizos, my brother is Spanish, and my family belongs to many places. I want to protect all of them.”

Kruger frowned, confused.

“Little girl, why would you say that? The nation is the king. It does not matter whether you are French, Polish, or Spanish. If you follow the same king and the same laws, you belong to the same nation.”

Isabella tilted her head, still puzzled.

“But the scholars in Medellín say the nation is about blood… about castes. They used another word… I think in German it was Abstammung.”

Kruger silently cursed the legacy of the Spanish Empire. In this new world, the word nation had become tangled with race instead of loyalty.

Then Isabella continued, her voice bright again.

“They also said they want to create a new meaning—that a nation should be everyone who shares the same customs. Customs are similarities. For example, I like arepas, and you like arepas, so we share the same custom. That would make us part of the same nation.”

She smiled warmly.

“And I like that definition more. That way… my father and my brother belong to the same nation as me.”

Kruger sighed softly and nodded.

“Indeed… that sounds far better. But I can attest that, at times, a general must sacrifice even his own family for the good of a nation. Had I not become one… my wife and daughter might never have disappeared.”

Isabella thought for a moment, then answered with innocent bluntness.

“But Mother said you weren’t a general back then—only a soldier. So you couldn’t protect them.”

Kruger fell silent.

The words struck deeper than any blade. She was right.Had he been a general at the time, his family would have lived safely in Berlin, under his protection.

He slowly shook his head, pushing the thought away. Yet as he looked into Isabella’s determined eyes, he understood that simple arguments would never persuade her to abandon her fascination with war.

Perhaps… experience would.

After all, he was a grandfather speaking to a child he had only just met. If she trained as Francisco had—if she felt the hardship herself—perhaps her ambitions would fade naturally.

“Very well,” he said at last. “I will teach you to become a general. But you must understand—this path is not easy. You will need constant study, discipline, and physical training. And if you ever grow lazy… if you abandon that effort even once… you must promise never again to name the army as your future.”

Isabella’s eyes shone with sudden light.

To be taught by him—by a man her brother described as a veteran of many wars—felt like stepping closer to her promise to protect her family. The servants knew little of true warfare; her father, even less. But Kruger… Kruger was different.

With solemn seriousness beyond her years, she nodded.

“I promise, Grandfather.”

Kruger returned the nod, outwardly stern, though inside his thoughts churned.How could he train her without harming her? Military discipline demanded harsh endurance, yet she was still a child. He could not subject her to the same trials as the soldiers of his platoon—not without risking her life.

Lost in thought, he allowed Isabella to guide him toward the estate.

Inside, Grandmother María sat near the doorway in a chair brought by a servant, quietly observing their approach. Behind her stood Ogundele, watchful and silent—proof that this mestiza matriarch held even the proud old warrior in gentle command.

Isabella released Kruger’s hand and ran forward with bright excitement.

“Grandma María! Grandpa Kruger promised to train me to become a powerful general!”

María raised an eyebrow and looked toward Kruger, who still seemed slightly bewildered by the sudden proclamation.

“He did?” she said warmly. “That is wonderful, my dear. But remember—you must eat well. A powerful general needs great strength.”

Isabella nodded eagerly, her small face bright with anticipation.Grandmother María took a handkerchief and gently wiped the dust from the girl’s forehead. Meanwhile, Kruger signaled for the translator to return. Watching María, Ogundele, and the quiet obedience of the servants around them, he quickly understood that these two belonged to Carlos’s most intimate circle of trust.

María finished cleaning Isabella’s face and spoke with calm authority.

“Go and have lunch. We will speak with your grandfather and then join you. And remember to wash your hands.”

“Okay,” Isabella replied, before hurrying inside.

Once the girl had gone, María and Ogundele formally presented themselves. Kruger answered with measured politeness, giving a respectful nod as introductions were completed.

But María did not waste time on courtesy.

“Why did you promise to teach her to become a general?” she asked directly. “Until recently she was happy studying medicine with me. Now, suddenly, she speaks only of war. You know how dangerous that life is… and yet you agreed so easily.”

Faced with the quiet scolding, Kruger found little to say.He knew she was right. Yet Isabella’s face—so painfully similar to his daughter’s—made refusal impossible. The weight of old debts silenced his reason. Slowly, he explained the plan he had formed: that hardship itself might cool the child’s determination.

María shook her head.

“You underestimate your granddaughter, Señor Kruger. When she becomes serious about something, she does not abandon it—no matter the suffering. In that, she and Francisco are the same. The difference is only in their passions. Francisco chose books, not because he was weak, but because knowledge called to him more strongly than war. This girl…”She paused, her gaze firm.”This girl is truly determined to become a general. I doubt you will make her surrender that dream.”

Kruger gave a small, helpless shrug.

“I have no other choice. I may be her grandfather, but today is the first day I truly know her. If I begin by forbidding her, she may grow to hate me… and that is something I cannot bear.”

María sighed, some of her severity softening.

“Then we must speak later and make a careful plan for her future. I will not see the child broken by wounds that could have been avoided. When frustration comes—and it will—you must remember that even willing hearts have limits.”

Noticing that Kruger wished to speak privately with Ogundele, she offered a brief farewell and withdrew.

As soon as she was gone, Ogundele released a quiet breath of relief.

“Señor Kruger, it is a pleasure to meet you. And please—do not take her words personally. For her, nothing in this world is more important than Francisco, Isabella, and Catalina. With two of them now in Germany, all that care and protection has turned toward Isabella alone,” he said respectfully.

Kruger nodded in quiet understanding.He could see that, though no blood bound them, the woman stood far closer to the children’s hearts than he did. To them, she was the true grandmother.

Without another word, he opened his satchel and withdrew a carefully wrapped bundle of papers.

“These are the blueprints Francisco asked me to deliver,” he said, handing them over. “He believes that, if you follow them, the making of steel will become far easier—freeing you to focus on other work. And he added this: if questions arise, write to him. He will answer.”

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