Chapter 90: A Tense Dinner

Francisco found himself in an uncomfortably awkward situation. He didn’t quite understand why, but the viceroy seemed determined to draw attention to him.

Leaning closer to his father, he whispered, “Why do you think the viceroy did that?”

Carlos, taking a slow sip of wine, replied, “Because Spain needs to show that it’s still an important promoter of the Enlightenment.”

Francisco frowned. “What a pain.”

Carlos smirked, glancing discreetly toward the commodore’s supposed daughter. “She’s looking at you quite intently. Think the daughter of an English commodore has fallen for you? A rich noble’s daughter and a poor colonial engineer — that kind of story would sell.”

Francisco chuckled. “Not even Catalina’s secret novels would dare write something that absurd.”

When he glanced at the girl again, she still hadn’t looked away. Her blue eyes stayed fixed on him with unnerving focus. “I don’t think she’s really the commodore’s daughter,” he murmured.

Carlos raised an eyebrow. “Why would the viceroy lie?”

“Maybe because her identity demands it,” Francisco said flatly.

Carlos frowned, considering. “Would the King of England really send a woman for that kind of work — intelligence matters?”

Francisco shrugged. “It’s a good tactic. Make someone important fall in love, get all the information you can… and if the chance appears, eliminate him.”

Carlos’ expression turned serious. The idea wasn’t far-fetched. The girl was sharp enough — and beautiful enough — to make such a thing possible. His wariness toward both her and the commodore quietly deepened.

Throughout the dinner, the viceroy introduced Francisco to various merchants and officials — men whose influence might prove useful one day, though for now, they were little more than names and smiles. When the dinner ended, most guests drifted out in pairs or small groups, leaving Francisco alone with the viceroy.

“Come with me to the courtyard,” the viceroy said.

Francisco followed, with Carlos and two guards walking a few paces behind. The evening air outside was cooler, carrying the faint scent of salt from the nearby sea. A large brass telescope stood on the terrace, glinting faintly in the candlelight.

“I like to observe the stars,” the viceroy said, stepping closer to it. “They remind me of how small we are in this vast universe. Sometimes I wonder what truly lies out there. Of course, I’ll never see it with my own eyes, but it humbles a man to think about it.”

Francisco and Carlos exchanged a cautious glance, unsure why the conversation had turned so philosophical.

The viceroy continued, “I understand you share that same curiosity — just in another field. The viceroyalty is willing to sponsor your research. If you keep working hard, perhaps one day you’ll become a man like José Celestino Mutis.”

Francisco sighed softly. “Your Excellency, I would be honored… but I’ve been preparing to study in Europe for two years now. I’ll be leaving in April.”

The viceroy frowned. “May I ask why you insist on studying outside Spain? After rediscovering Roman cement, you could secure a fine position in any university within the empire. Why go to Germany?”

Francisco met his gaze seriously. “Because Spanish universities are still too bound to theology and ideology. I want to study practical science — and in Germany, I can do that freely, especially given my ancestry.”

The viceroy smiled bitterly and then turned to Carlos. “When your father announced his plan to marry you to a German woman, many praised him — said it was a clever way to cut off your inheritance rights. Some nobles even followed his example. I wonder how they’ll feel when they learn that decision allowed their descendant to study in a pagan state.”

Carlos chuckled awkwardly. “There’s not much I can do about that. His grandfather already contacted us.”

The viceroy’s smile froze. “His grandfather? I thought Francisco’s mother and grandmother came to the colonies alone.”

Carlos nodded. “Before she passed, my wife left me the names of some contacts in Germany — people who could help our family if needed. We later received a letter from Johann Friedrich Kruger, confirming the connection.”

The viceroy frowned deeply, then muttered to himself, “So his grandfather isn’t only alive but one of the generals under King Wilhelm II… That could complicate things.”

Carlos raised an eyebrow. “Is there a problem?”

The viceroy straightened, his expression carefully neutral. “No, no problem. Just… curiosity.” He smiled faintly. “Come, let’s talk about business instead.”

And so the conversation shifted, though a faint unease lingered in the air — like the hush that follows a sudden gust before a storm.

Elsewhere, the Commodore and his daughter met in a quiet corner of the palace to compare notes.

“This information is vital,” Commodore John said, leaning forward. “We must investigate this Roman cement. If it proves true, we need to find a way to obtain the formula ourselves.”

Elizabeth, his daughter, nodded. “I believe it’s true. I’ve heard the Gómez family bought rights to many volcanic sites in New Granada and are already exploiting them. I haven’t had the chance to inspect it personally, though — it seems to be a material called pozzolana.”

The Commodore frowned. “What exactly is this—pozzolana?”

“Volcanic ash,” Elizabeth replied. “It seems to be a crucial ingredient for that cement.”

“Then we should send word to His Majesty at once,” the Commodore urged. “This could be decisive in our future struggles against Spain.”

Elizabeth shook her head and relaxed. “You don’t need to panic. The viceroy has already informed Madrid, but they haven’t paid it much attention. By the time the spanish court truly understands, perhaps five years will have passed.”

The Commodore’s jaw tightened. “We can’t afford to take the risk. If they suddenly decide to use it tomorrow, we could face a lot of problems.”

Elizabeth smirked and rolled her eyes at his alarm. “You worry too much. I’m more interested in the boy who made this possible.”

The Commodore looked puzzled. “But didn’t he say the recipe already existed and that he only improved it?”

Elizabeth tapped her fingers on the table. “If it were that simple, someone else would’ve rediscovered it long ago. It wouldn’t fall to a seventeen-year-old to earn the prestige of doing it. The fact that he not only found it but improved the formula makes him far more interesting — and dangerous. This is the kind of advantage a kingdom might covet… and fear.”

“What do you mean?” the Commodore asked, warily.

Elizabeth looked out toward the harbor, the candlelight catching the sharp line of her cheek. “A tree that stands taller than the rest is the first thing a current will strike,” she said softly. “The more he stands out, the sooner someone will come to cut him down — or to climb him for their own gain.”

The Commodore said thoughtfully, “The Spanish royal family?”

Elizabeth only smiled. The candle between them flickered, and for a brief instant that smile — calm, knowing — made even the burly Commodore feel a chill run down his spine.

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