Chapter 242: Honor thy father and thy mother.

While Francisco and the professor of medicine of Göttingen were preparing to spend the coming days as experimental subjects, the situation in Antioquia was changing.

By February, a letter from Spain had reached Carlos.

Inside his study, the atmosphere was heavy. The faces of the men gathered there were solemn—especially Krugger.

“You cannot go to Spain,” Krugger said, still struggling to believe what he was hearing. “Right now you are practically a rebel. If you set foot on the coasts of Spain, the king will not hesitate to arrest you. You are one of his greatest threats in New Granada.”

Carlos paced the room like a caged animal. He finished one tobacco roll and immediately lit another.

“But that is my father, Krugger,” he replied sharply. “He is ill—and he may not live much longer.”

He waved the letter impatiently.

“He promised that he would help me reach the estate quietly, without attracting the attention of the king or the authorities. He knows the danger as well as we do.”

Krugger frowned and picked up the letter from the desk.

“Are you certain this letter is legitimate?” he asked carefully. “From what I understand about your family as dukes, they should be absolutely loyal to the crown.”

His eyes narrowed.

“You yourself refused rebellion until they threatened your son’s life. Why would your father suddenly risk his loyalty to the king… simply out of sentiment?”

Carlos hesitated.

“Perhaps…” he began slowly, “perhaps on his deathbed he only wishes to see his sons one last time.”

Even as he spoke, doubt lingered in his voice.

As a bastard, his father’s affection had never been something he experienced openly or often. The idea that the old duke had suddenly become sentimental seemed unlikely—even to him.

But there were things a man could not ignore.

Honor thy father and thy mother.

It was not merely a biblical verse.

It was a principle he had been raised to live by.

Krugger shook his head, his voice lowering to a dangerous whisper.

“Carlos, you are not the merchant you once were when Francisco lived here. Back then, you could travel the world like a ghost through the ports of New Granada.”

He stepped closer.

“But now? Now you are the leader of an emerging revolution.”

His gaze hardened.

“You are the spark in the dry grass of Antioquia.”

Carlos stopped pacing.

The smoke from his tobacco curled around his face like a thin shroud.

Slowly, he looked down at the letter resting on the mahogany desk—the seal of the House of Lerma staring back at him like a cold, judgmental eye.

“He gave me everything, Krugger,” Carlos said quietly, resentment mixing with reluctant respect in his voice.

“He gave me the name I was never supposed to have. The gold to build my fortune. The education to pursue my ambitions.”

Carlos leaned against the desk.

“If he had been like most nobles, he would have treated me as a servant… or worse, made me disappear once his legitimate heir was born.”

His voice softened slightly.

“But instead he sent me here to New Granada. He gave me a second chance.”

Carlos sighed.

“He may not have been a good father… but he was a man who taught his sons—even his bastards—how to survive.”

He looked back at the letter.

“To ignore his dying wish… feels like tearing out the very roots I grew from.”

Krugger did not hesitate.

“But those roots may drag you straight to your death,” he replied grimly.

He stepped closer, his tone hardening.

“If this is a trap—and my instincts tell me it is—the king, or even your brother, will capture you. Everything we have built here will collapse.”

His voice dropped further.

“All the blood spilled for this cause will have been meaningless.”

Krugger’s eyes locked onto Carlos.

“Tell me honestly—if you die there, and meet the men who gave their lives fighting beside you… could you face them in the afterlife?”

Carlos remained silent.

Krugger pressed further.

“And what about Francisco?”

The name struck like a blade.

“If they capture you,” Krugger continued, “they will threaten your son. They will drag him from Göttingen to Spain and use him however they wish.”

His final words were cold.

“Do you truly want your son to become a prisoner in the palace of Barcelona?”

Carlos slammed his fist onto the table, rattling the inkwell.

“I know that,” he snapped. “Right now my mind is in a constant battle between what is right and what is wrong.”

The silence in the study grew heavy.

Only the distant sound of church bells echoing through the valley broke the stillness.

Carlos turned toward the window and looked at the mountains beyond the town. His thoughts drifted to the people who depended on him—Francisco far away in Europe, his daughter Isabella, the men who had chosen to follow him, old María, and Catalina.

Krugger sighed.

“I have some friends in Germany,” he said quietly. “Let me at least send a letter and ask if they know anything before you make a foolish decision.”

He stood up and walked toward the door.

Before leaving, he stopped and spoke again.

“I am not the one to judge your sense of fatherhood,” he said slowly. “After all, I lost my wife and my daughter because of my work.”

His voice became heavier.

“But I am an expert in regrets.”

He placed his hand on the door.

“And I can assure you… if you make the wrong choice here, you will carry that regret until the day you die.”

With that, he opened the door and stepped outside.

Carlos remained alone in the study.

He frowned, unsure of what to do.

After finishing his tobacco, he reached for another—but when he tried to light it, he realized the box was empty.

Frustrated, he threw the matchbox across the room.

Outside, Krugger walked slowly across the courtyard with a solemn expression.

More than anyone, he understood that the letter was likely a trap. He did not know whether it came from the king or from Carlos’s brother, but something about it felt wrong.

The problem with obvious traps was that they could not simply be ignored.

Isabella was sitting outside waiting for him.

During the last few weeks she had begun learning from Krugger directly, acting as a kind of apprentice. Though he still hesitated about teaching combat and military skills to a woman, he had to admit something to himself:

His granddaughter had inherited his instincts for war.

In his mind, she was an exception.

Not the rule.

Isabella’s eyes lit up when she saw him approaching.

She hurried toward him.

“What happened, grandfather?” she asked. “I heard Father received a letter. He looked… sad.”

Krugger sighed.

“Your other grandfather is standing at the gates of hell,” he replied bluntly. “And he wants your father to visit him before he dies.”

He crossed his arms.

“But I am almost certain it is a trap.”

“The problem is… I am not sure I can convince your father not to go.”

Isabella tilted her head slightly.

“My father’s father?” she asked.

Krugger nodded with a faint smile.

“That’s right.”

Then he studied her expression.

“Do you have an idea?”

Isabella shrugged casually.

“My brother is in Europe, isn’t he?”

Krugger nodded again.

“Then why not ask him to find out what is happening?” she continued. “Even if Father left for Europe right now, the voyage would take months. He would not arrive until June.”

She folded her arms thoughtfully.

“If grandfather is truly dying, he may already be gone by then.”

She looked back at Krugger.

“But my brother could visit him much sooner.”

Her voice was calm and practical.

“He could spend grandfather’s final moments with him. That way our family would still send someone… someone representing Father.”

Krugger nodded slowly, impressed by the logic.

But then his expression darkened.

“There is a problem,” he said.

“Your brother’s reputation has become too large.”

He looked toward the mountains.

“If the king of Spain—or your uncle—managed to capture him, your father would be finished.”

His voice hardened.

“With his son in a Spanish prison, the entire rebellion would collapse.”

“But he is my uncle, isn’t he?” Isabella asked curiously. “Would he really betray his own brother for the king?”

Krugger shrugged.

“You have spent most of your life in a good family,” he said calmly. “A family where people support each other.”

He looked toward the distant hills.

“But for profit… many families will sacrifice their own blood.”

His voice hardened slightly.

“Even farmers sometimes sell their sons and daughters when hunger becomes unbearable.”

He paused before continuing.

“So imagine what nobles and rich merchants are capable of.”

Krugger looked back at Isabella.

“Your uncle is a duke. He represents the royal family. If capturing your father could earn him the king’s favor…”

He shook his head.

“He would not hesitate for a second.”

Isabella frowned. The idea was difficult for her to accept.

After a moment, she spoke again, her voice serious.

“If they are really as bad as you say… then what is the point of going to visit them?”

She tilted her head slightly.

“Wouldn’t that be foolish?”

Krugger suddenly smiled.

“That’s right,” he said loudly. “It would be foolish.”

He clasped his hands behind his back.

“But sometimes adults make foolish decisions.”

Behind the door, Carlos stood frozen.

He had heard everything.

For a moment, he wondered if Krugger had known he was there the entire time.

Taking a deep breath, Carlos opened the door and stepped outside.

Isabella’s eyes widened when she saw him.

“Father!”

She ran toward him and wrapped her arms around him.

After hugging him tightly, she looked up and asked with innocent seriousness:

“Are you really going to make a foolish decision?”

Carlos looked up at Krugger.

There was a hint of resentment in his eyes.

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