Chapter 237: Women Advancement

Seeing the troubled expression on Francisco’s face, Christian chuckled softly.

“I believe you are imagining the wrong danger,” he said.

“Your father has no real possibility of inheriting the House of the Duke. Leaving aside the fact that he is a bastard, he is also married to a Prussian woman—more importantly, the daughter of a Prussian general. For Spain, a kingdom that takes bloodlines so seriously, such a combination would be unacceptable. Even if they had no other option, they would never allow him to inherit the title.”

Christian paused, studying his student carefully.

“But you, my young friend… you are a different matter.”

Francisco frowned.

“You have attracted the attention of their king,” Christian continued. “And that makes you valuable. He may try to use you—perhaps by threatening your family to ensure your loyalty to the Spanish Crown.”

Francisco’s frown deepened.

“Do you really think my uncle would go that far?” he asked quietly.

Christian laughed.

“Of course he would. Remember, the British were planning to do exactly the same thing to you. Do you truly believe the Spanish king never considered it?”

He folded his arms behind his back.

“With your uncle belonging to the Spanish nobility, it becomes even easier. The Crown can simply let him do the dirty work while they maintain the appearance of purity.”

Christian’s expression grew more serious.

“Never underestimate monarchs, Francisco. They have been surrounded by intrigue since the moment they were born. Those who survive long enough to wear the crown are either puppets guided by wise advisers… or sages of intrigue themselves.”

Francisco shuddered slightly at the thought.

After a moment he shook his head and spoke with quiet determination.

“Do not worry, Director. I will not fall for such tricks.”

He paused.

“But I will make sure that the news reaches my father. Despite everything, he does care about my grandfather. And he does not have access to the information you do. If my uncle decides to send a letter directly to him, my father might believe it and travel to Spain.”

Christian nodded slowly, somewhat relieved by the young man’s caution.

Suddenly Francisco seemed to remember something.

“Director, now that you are here, there is something else you might want to see.”

Christian raised an eyebrow.

“My wife Catalina and her group have made some progress in their search for a cure for smallpox.”

Francisco smiled slightly.

“If you wish, we could go see their work.”

Christian was genuinely surprised.

That group of women had managed to produce results?

Deep inside, he still carried the old prejudices of his generation. He had never truly believed women capable of serious scientific investigation. Catalina had begun to challenge that belief somewhat—but Christian still suspected that Francisco himself might have helped them more than he admitted.

Still, he kept those thoughts to himself.

After a moment of reflection, he nodded.

“In that case,” Christian said, “we should invite the university authorities as well. Let them see with their own eyes whether women truly possess the talent to contribute to the construction of our future.”

Francisco simply shrugged.

“I have no problem with that.”

He looked down at his arms, which were still covered in grease and soot from the forge.

“Although first I should probably take a quick wash,” he added with a small grin. “Why don’t we meet again here in twenty minutes?”

Christian nodded.

He immediately sent several messengers toward the university.

Although he was the director of Göttingen, the institution was governed by a council of professors and overseen by a curator appointed by the British king through the Electorate of Hannover. While the curator’s authority had weakened after the kidnapping incident involving Francisco and Georg Christoph Lichtenberg, he still retained considerable influence as the official representative of Hannover.

The messengers ran quickly through the streets of Göttingen.

Fortunately, August Gottlob von Grote—the current curator—was already in the city.

Because of the chaos that had shaken Göttingen during the past months, he had been forced to remain nearby.

As an aristocrat, von Grote was deeply resentful of the entire situation.

The attempted kidnapping of Francisco had not been his doing, yet he had become the greatest victim of the political disaster that followed. The noble family responsible had conveniently claimed ignorance, leaving him to deal with the consequences alone.

Now he was forced to pretend to stand on Göttingen’s side in order to slowly recover his lost influence.

But after the kidnapping scandal, that task was becoming increasingly difficult.

August Gottlob von Grote sat alone in his office, gazing through the tall window that overlooked the city of Göttingen.

The town possessed a peculiar atmosphere—one filled with books, debates, and the quiet pride of scholarship. Students walked through its streets with ink-stained hands and heated arguments about philosophy or mathematics. For many, it was a peaceful place.

For August, however, it was anything but peaceful.

He drummed his fingers lightly against the arm of his chair, trying to think of ways to recover the authority he had lost in recent months.

Just then, a messenger knocked and stepped into the room.

“Sir August,” the young man said respectfully, “the laboratory of that student, Francisco, appears to have made progress in developing a cure for smallpox. Director Christian has invited the council—and yourself—to visit the laboratory and observe the results. If the discovery proves genuine, they intend to discuss opening the university’s doors to women in the future.”

August sneered openly.

“I truly do not understand that boy,” he muttered. “All this effort for the sake of his wife. Women belong in their homes, attending to domestic matters. Science and discovery are the domain of men.”

He took a slow sip from the glass in his hand.

“Trying to open the doors of the university to them is naïve… and utterly pointless.”

The messenger hesitated before asking carefully,

“Should I decline the invitation on your behalf, sir?”

August remained silent for a moment, finishing the last of his drink.

“Of course not,” he replied calmly.

“Whether those discoveries were made by the boy himself or truly by his wife is irrelevant. If Göttingen truly possesses a cure for smallpox, the prestige alone will be enormous.”

He leaned back in his chair, his eyes glimmering with ambition.

“With such an achievement, I may finally have enough influence to request a reassignment… perhaps even a return to London.”

For a man like August, the capital of the British Empire had always been the center of the world.

Göttingen, by comparison, was merely a temporary inconvenience.

The messenger bowed and departed.

Not long afterward, the council members gathered and made their way toward the laboratory complex.

When they arrived, several of them stopped in surprise.

The structure was far larger than they had expected. Once again, the strange gray material—Roman cement—demonstrated its usefulness in monumental construction. The buildings rose with such imposing grandeur that some of the professors could not help but think of Mount Olympus itself, as if Zeus had somehow carried his divine palace and set it down in the quiet town of Göttingen.

Christian noticed their arrival and walked toward them with a welcoming smile.

After the usual greetings and polite exchanges, he gestured toward a figure standing nearby.

“Ah—look,” he said. “Our young genius has arrived.”

“Francisco.”

All eyes turned toward the young man.

His presence stirred mixed feelings among the authorities of Göttingen.

On one hand, the wealth generated by his industries had brought prosperity that few had ever imagined possible. On the other, his influence had created endless political trouble.

Some admired him.

Some hated him.

Others—more pragmatic—simply viewed him as a powerful but unpredictable tool.

“Gentlemen,” Francisco said politely, “please follow me.”

He led them toward the entrance of the building.

The stone staircase was somewhat steep, forcing the older professors to climb slowly while muttering quiet complaints under their breath.

When they reached the doors, a guard stepped forward immediately.

“Who are you?” the man demanded cautiously. “And why are you arriving in such a large group?”

His suspicion was understandable.

Ever since the rumors had spread that the laboratory was nothing more than a “harem,” groups of arrogant young nobles and foolish playboys had begun appearing at the gates, hoping to catch a glimpse of the women working there.

Göttingen, however, was considered an academic sanctuary. Brothels and other questionable businesses were strictly forbidden inside the town.

Many students, frustrated by these restrictions, had eagerly believed the rumors.

Unfortunately for them, the guards protecting the laboratory were the fathers, brothers, and relatives of the women inside.

They were not particularly tolerant toward anyone who treated their daughters as prostitutes.

Francisco stepped forward with a reassuring smile.

“Herr Hans, these are the authorities of Göttingen,” he explained calmly. “They came because my wife informed me that the women have made progress in their research on smallpox. I invited the council to see the results themselves.”

He lowered his voice slightly.

“If they approve, the women may become official scholars of the university. So please inform the others inside to treat our guests with proper care.”

The old guard’s eyes widened in surprise.

If the girls working here truly became recognized scholars of Göttingen, their lives—and the lives of their families—would change completely. Even the social standing of their future husbands would rise considerably.

His expression softened immediately.

“Of course, sir,” he said with a respectful smile.

Then he stepped aside and guided the group inside the laboratory.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep