Joaquín leaned forward. "I'm going to start hiring more people and ignore the transfer order."
Francisco and Mauricio both nodded in agreement.
Mauricio took a sip of aguardiente and smirked. "You know, flavored aguardiente is considered a luxury. I've only tasted it at high-class events—it's incredibly rare. Who would believe me if I told them that here, in this so-called poor town, common folk drink it like water?"
Francisco chuckled. "Honestly, after my liquor factory expands, flavored alcohol will be as common as plain aguardiente."
Mauricio raised his brows. "Don't tell me you stole the royal distillery's technique?"
Francisco laughed. "Of course not. I don't even know their exact process. I just discovered an easier way to make purer alcohol."
Mauricio blinked, surprised. "So the flavor comes from purer alcohol?"
Francisco shook his head. "Not exactly. You use a little pure alcohol with fruit to make a concentrated liquid. Then you mix that with regular alcohol—that's what gives it this rich taste and aroma."
Mauricio frowned. "That's all? Just purer alcohol?"
Francisco shrugged. "Maybe the royal distilleries do it differently, but that's my method."
Mauricio sighed. "You'll have a problem if they accuse you of stealing their recipe."
Francisco shrugged again. "That's my grandfather's business. He's the one who'll profit most in Spain once we start selling to the Cádiz Company. That's why we made him our partner."
Mauricio smirked. "You're lucky to have a duke for a grandfather. My family doesn't have noble backing."
Francisco arched an eyebrow. "Isn't that why you married into the Lozano de Peralta family? Her father's a marquis—he's your backer now."
Mauricio shook his head. "Not exactly. We're not true family. If we make a mistake, the best I can hope for is a personal pardon. My whole family could be ruined. You, on the other hand, are a direct descendant. Unless you become the worst scoundrel alive, your family will always be safe."
Joaquín, watching the two young men bicker about their powerful families, couldn't hide the envy in his eyes. "You two really know how to make the rest of us feel inferior."
Francisco and Mauricio exchanged awkward smiles.
"Sorry," Francisco said with a laugh. "We got carried away."
They fell silent for a moment, watching the townspeople dance. The music still pulsed through the plaza—drums, laughter, shouts of joy. The air smelled of smoke, alcohol, and sweat. Some men were already brawling, and guards moved in to pull them apart.
Then Joaquín spoke again. "Why don't we make this kind of celebration a yearly event?"
Francisco frowned. "Yearly? You know alcohol is expensive. We only gave it away tonight to test which flavor would sell best to Cádiz."
Joaquín smiled. "Then we'll pay for it another way—perhaps a small tax reduction equivalent to the liquor's value. That way, you don't violate your license, and we can make this party a tradition—something that lasts for centuries."
Francisco nodded thoughtfully. "That's a good idea. I'll talk to my father about it."
Just then, Catalina and Sofía stopped their conversation. Catalina took Francisco's hand and smiled. "Care to dance with me?"
Francisco grinned. "Sorry, gentlemen. My fiancée calls."
The two of them joined the crowd again, spinning and laughing under the lantern light. Joaquín watched them go, then turned to Mauricio. "So she really is his fiancée?"
Mauricio nodded. "Didn't you know?"
Joaquín shook his head. "Most people think he's just involved with her. No one expected something serious. They assume he wants her as a mistress—after all, plenty of rich boys grow up with their servants." He paused, frowning. "Aren't his family worried? Even if he's rich, once he dies, a mestiza heir won't inherit his status."
Mauricio shrugged. "Maybe. But I think he's hoping that law won't last—and that he'll help change it himself."
Joaquín gave a skeptical smile. "Normal men couldn't. But somehow, I think he might be able to convince the royal family."
Mauricio's smile turned sly. "I doubt he wants to convince them. He might just plan to replace them."
He didn't elaborate. Joaquín wasn't a liberal, and he didn't need to know that whispers of independence were already spreading.
Mauricio then looked at Sofía. She was watching Francisco and Catalina dance, a trace of envy in her eyes.
"Do you want to dance too?" he asked softly.
Sofía blinked, caught off guard, then smiled. "Of course I do—but the gossip…"
Mauricio thought for a moment, then said, "You know why Francisco doesn't care about gossip? Because people will always talk, no matter what he does. Instead of worrying, he focuses on helping his family grow richer."
Sofía nodded thoughtfully. "You're right. Ever since we gained shares in the cement factory, people have been spreading rumors about us too. Better to enjoy life than live by their rules. Come on—let's dance. To hell with them."
Mauricio grinned. "That's the spirit."
He took her hand, and they joined the crowd.
From a distance, Joaquín watched the four young people dancing wildly among the townsfolk. He murmured to himself, "That boy isn't just changing the economy. He's changing the people around him."
He turned his gaze toward Bogotá and whispered, "I wonder how many more changes he'll bring."
By dawn, the party still hadn't ended. Some people slept in the streets, others stumbled home through the fog of alcohol and tobacco. The smell lingered in the air. The town was a mess—bottles, cups, and scraps of food everywhere.
Francisco and Catalina, exhausted, were helped by his father and the servants to the inn he had rented for the night. Outside, old women—paid by the Gómez family—were already sweeping the streets.
Later that morning, a notice appeared on the mayor's board:
"Because of last night's celebration, the Cabildo has decided to make this festival a yearly tradition. The Gómez Distillery will donate flavored aguardiente for everyone to enjoy. We hope this event will attract visitors from outside Medellín and help improve the town's economy."
The townspeople were stunned—and delighted. Even the innkeepers, though a bit wary, couldn't hide their excitement. More visitors meant more business.
No one knew it yet, but that night's wild celebration would one day become known as The Aguardiente Festival of Medellín—a tradition that would last for generations.