Chapter 223: The Fatal Price of Arrogance

The thunder sounded with such strength it felt as if heaven itself were angry. Yet no rain followed. It was as though even the sky wanted to witness the result of the battle.

Machetes lay scattered across the floor, and the curses of dying men slowly faded. Esteban watched his numbers grow smaller and smaller. The loyal servants died fighting; the traitors had been the first to flee.

He had lost too much blood.

At last, he fell to the ground.

In front of him lay the body of the patriarch of the Hoyos family. The man’s face was frozen in surprise, a clean shot through his head. Esteban turned onto his back and looked at the dark sky.

Then he closed his eyes for the last time.

Krugger noticed the silence spreading across the plaza and descended from the tower, the cigar still lit between his lips.

“You see, Miss Gertrudis,” he said calmly, glancing at the bodies outside, “the servants of New Granada may be strong in brute force. But they are no match for modern weapons.”

He slightly raised the rifle.

“This alone is enough to kill officers and soldiers alike. Spain has kept these colonies backward for too long. Your family is still in time to follow the Gómez family.”

He smiled and threw the cigar toward the church door.

“You see? The battle ended before the cigar.”

The glowing ember landed near the entrance, almost symbolically — as if marking the end of an era. The time of patrons leading charges of servants was dying. Weapons were becoming something far more decisive.

“Enough talk,” Krugger ordered. “Count the casualties. I want exact numbers. How many recruits did we lose?”

Inside the church, the men were exhausted. Even with defensive positions, bullets had no eyes. Two of Krugger’s own men lay dead, and a couple of sacristans had fallen during the crossfire.

“Going, sir,” said one of the recruits — a former servant of Carlos who had joined the army.

Krugger gave him a small approving smile.

Gertrudis watched carefully before speaking.

“Why are you going so far for Carlos Gómez?” she asked. “I have heard Germans often work as mercenaries. There are families in New Granada as wealthy as him — perhaps wealthier. As a mercenary, you could serve whoever pays more. My Sáenz family could be one of them.”

Krugger chuckled at first, thinking she joked. But seeing her serious expression, he answered calmly:

“Miss, I was a general in Prussia. If it were about money or status, I would have remained in Berlin, living comfortably — not come to this place to send my men to die.”

Gertrudis frowned. German mercenaries were highly sought after in Europe for their discipline and obedience. A small elite family in New Granada could not easily afford many of them — especially when European powers paid far higher prices.

Her eyes suddenly widened.

“Then how,” she asked slowly, “was Carlos able to hire you? That makes no sense.”

Krugger smiled, almost self-mockingly.

“By marrying my daughter.”

Gertrudis stared at him.

“Wait… you are Anna’s father? I was told she only had a mother.”

Krugger frowned, displeased at first — then sighed, almost sadly.

“Indeed, she only had a mother,” he said quietly. “Because I was a failure as a father. But as you may have guessed, Francisco and Isabella are my grandson and granddaughter.”

He looked at her directly.

“I am not fighting for money. I am fighting for my family.”

Gertrudis felt her face grow pale. She silently cursed Carlos’ fortune. Marrying the daughter of a powerful Prussian general — even if Krugger represented only himself — meant something far greater. The knowledge he carried from Prussia alone was enough to elevate Carlos above every rival in New Granada… perhaps even beyond.

Unless the Sáenz family found a general of similar caliber, they would eventually be forced to choose sides.

She sighed.

“Very well. Allow me to return to Bogotá. I will speak with my family’s patriarch and bring you our answer. That should be sufficient, correct?”

Krugger nodded and gestured for his men to untie her. Once freed, he personally accompanied her toward the church entrance.

“You should remain in an inn in Rionegro for now,” he said calmly. “The situation outside may become… unstable. My men are not attacking only Rionegro. Operations are underway in all territories under Carlos’ influence.”

Gertrudis stopped, stunned.

She had naively believed Carlos had concentrated his forces in Rionegro. Hearing that coordinated actions were unfolding across the region left her momentarily speechless.

In a single day, the Church had lost influence across a significant portion of New Granada.

She felt a dull headache forming.

“Then I will remain inside the church for now,” she said finally. “Considering how many servants escaped, the countryside must already be chaotic. Those who fled will likely return to their masters’ estates — some to retrieve their families, others perhaps to settle old grievances. Some may even turn to banditry.”

Krugger nodded with genuine appreciation. She understood the consequences quickly.

The military matter in Rionegro was resolved. Now came the political phase.

When the elite families who had refused to defend the church heard of the massacre, many felt quiet relief. They had avoided destruction.

The Hoyos family became the clearest example of what arrogance now cost.

After the surviving servants fled back to the Hoyos estate, chaos erupted. With the patriarch dead and authority shattered, long-suppressed resentment surfaced.

The first act was brutal.

Armando Hoyos, the patriarch’s son, was killed inside his own estate. His arrogance had earned him quiet hatred for years. The servants had endured it only because the patriarch protected him.

But protection was gone.

The one who initiated it was the butler — the man who had seemed the most loyal. Armando had dishonored his daughter, causing her deep humiliation. The butler administered poison — a concoction learned from indigenous communities in the region. It was designed not for speed, but for suffering.

As Armando weakened, the estate was ransacked. Valuables disappeared. Documents were burned.

Soon after, branch families — like sharks sensing blood — claimed sections of Hoyos land, dividing the inheritance among themselves under the justification of “preserving order.”

In a matter of days, one of the richest houses in the region ceased to exist as a dominant power.

The fall of the Hoyos became a lesson whispered across New Granada:

Arrogance, in a changing world, was fatal.

But this was only a small part of the chaos unleashed during Carlos’ “cleaning.”

For three months, he worked relentlessly to stabilize the territories. The small battles left behind resentment, power vacuums, and shifting loyalties. The Church filed a formal complaint to the viceroy — but he ignored it.

It was a silent approval.

José de Ezpeleta knew he was about to be dismissed and did not dare act without direct orders from the Crown. What he did not anticipate was how ambitious men would interpret his silence.

Many took it as permission.

Some minor elites, sensing opportunity, aligned themselves with the Gómez family and began seizing Church lands and wealth under the excuse of “rebalancing order.” Conflicts spread across New Granada. Only in regions where powerful patrons openly defended the Church did it survive intact. In small towns and villages, however, its authority collapsed almost entirely.

In just a few months, the Church’s power weakened dramatically.

Then worse news arrived.

The attempted attack against Francisco reached New Granada. For the first time, even the ambitious Krugger felt a chill. Carlos frowned deeply when he learned the attackers were British.

“Can you explain to me,” Carlos asked coldly, “why the same nation that helped my son escape from the viceroy now seeks to kidnap him?”

Krugger was momentarily speechless. Though he distrusted the UK, he had not expected such a swift shift.

After reviewing the letter again — especially the section about the steam machine — he understood.

He sighed.

“Because Francisco broke one of the pillars of Britain’s power… and handed it to the rest of Europe.”

Carlos frowned. “What do you mean?”

Krugger handed him the letter, pointing to the passage about the steam engine.

“Industrial secrecy,” he said quietly. “Britain’s advantage depends on it.”

Carlos sighed and muttered, “It seems there is no loyalty between nations — only interests.”

Krugger nodded in agreement.

Carlos then looked at him directly.

“Your men were forced to intervene earlier than planned. Even with their protection, he was nearly taken. Now that your men have been withdrawn… can you guarantee no one will succeed next time?”

Krugger remained silent for a moment, then shrugged helplessly.

“I would prefer him to return — as you would. But you know him as well as I do. He will not come back until he is ready to dedicate his life to using what he learns in Hanover for the benefit of New Granada.”

He paused, thinking carefully before continuing.

“And in truth, the sea is more dangerous than the land right now. The British control the oceans. On land, however, German influence still carries weight.”

He fell silent again, considering the risks.

“I will contact old friends in Prussia who still owe me favors. They will do what they can to ensure his safety. But you, my dear son-in-law, must expand. Until we control the waters around New Granada, he cannot return safely.”

Carlos nodded slowly. His eyes were dark from exhaustion. Speaking with Krugger had become his only moment of clarity in these chaotic months.

“Were you able to obtain the firebricks Ogundele requested?” Carlos asked. “Without them, the steel plant cannot function as intended.”

Krugger nodded.

“Yes. But logistics are becoming complicated.”

He leaned back slightly.

“Prussia is currently involved in the partition of Poland and facing French pressure. Moving goods outside the Holy Roman Empire is increasingly difficult. Spain is also on alert — especially after the British intercepted vessels that were assisting us near San Andrés.”

He frowned.

“And since Britain’s position toward Francisco changed, they no longer offer quiet assistance.”

Carlos crossed his arms.

“The slave traders are the only ones willing to transport the materials,” Krugger continued. “But their loyalty is uncertain. I am considering how to convince them the firebricks pose no threat to Spain. We cannot allow them to suspect their true purpose.”

He exhaled slowly.

“Unfortunately, firebricks are not easy to hide. For now, we can only hope they do not understand what they are carrying.”

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