After leaving the letter with Carlos, Francisco began spending more time with him — sharing a few drinks, having lunch together, and enjoying quiet days filled with an unusual peace.Carlos, meanwhile, had managed to secure new buyers in Cartagena, though the viceroy had forbidden him from selling to any foreign powers, especially France.
One afternoon, Francisco sat at the back of the estate with Catalina, watching the sea shimmer beneath the sun. When he heard about the trade prohibition, his brow furrowed."It seems the rumors are true," he said. "Spain might actually be preparing for war with France."
Carlos looked at him with mild curiosity. "Would that really affect us so much?"
Francisco gave a dry laugh. "You know who always ends up paying for those wars."
Carlos groaned and slapped his forehead. "You're right. Taxes will go up again. Maybe they'll even invent a new one just for Roman cement."
Francisco sighed, shoulders sagging. "There's nothing we can do about it."
Carlos leaned back in his chair. "The viceroy invited us to dinner this Saturday. I think he's more interested in meeting you than in dining with me."
Francisco rubbed his temples, feeling a headache coming. "I suppose this is about the rediscovery of the Roman cement."
Carlos nodded, then shook his head. "Partly. But I think he wants to judge your loyalty — or the danger you represent to Spain's control over New Granada. They've been probing me lately. It seems they've realized a new and powerful family is rising — one that already makes a lot of money and could make even more in the future."
Francisco frowned. "Aren't they overreacting a little? Being too cautious?"
Carlos chuckled softly. "It's funny, because you're exactly the kind of person they should be worried about."
Francisco fell silent. He knew his father was right. With his plans to build an armory in Antioquia and to bring in foreign settlers and soldiers, Spain would have every reason to accuse him of treason if they ever discovered the truth.
He rubbed his forehead. "Then I'd better act carefully."
Carlos shook his head. "No — you should act scholarly. Present yourself as a man obsessed with learning, with Protestant ideas, knowledge, science. Let them see you as an idealist, not a threat."
Francisco's eyes lit up. "So, I should create a persona — someone whose every action is driven by curiosity, not ambition. That way, they might lower their guard… perhaps even support my experiments."
Carlos smiled faintly. "Exactly. Though you don't really need to create a character—you already are one. Almost killing a slave, spending days and nights in the factory, experimenting with alcohol, even working with the blacksmiths on the still... I'm actually surprised you're not tinkering with things here in Cartagena."
Catalina chuckled. "That's only because he's been enjoying his honeymoon with me. Though, truth be told, he did try to experiment with some gunpowder he found in a shop. He was trying to make it stronger, and I had to stop him before he blew up the estate."
Carlos looked at his son, speechless. "Yes… you'll do just fine with that persona."
Francisco chuckled awkwardly. "You know me too well."
Then Catalina suddenly spoke up. "But if they're looking for flaws, wouldn't I be the biggest one?"
Both men turned to her in surprise, then frowned in unison.
Francisco nodded slowly. "You're right. That could make them even more suspicious. Half of Antioquia already knows I plan to marry you. I've never been discreet about it." He looked to his father, waiting for advice.
Carlos frowned, then unexpectedly chuckled. "You're still young — you can afford to seem a little impulsive. Maybe even show mild opposition to the caste system; that could work in your favor. The viceroy might try to win you over by promising exceptions for Catalina, or even by claiming he'll petition Spain to relax the caste laws. Whether he keeps his word or not won't matter — once he returns to Spain, it'll no longer be his problem. Luckily for us, that will help you maintain the image of someone harmless, not dangerous."
Francisco nodded thoughtfully. "So I can oppose him — but should I do it respectfully or arrogantly?"
Carlos considered. "Respectfully. Even a hot-headed young man should know better than to insult the viceroy, the king's representative."
Francisco grinned. "Understood. By the way, what did your friend say about the voyage? When does it start? I'm a little excited — it'll be my first time at sea."
Carlos replied, "In April. He's still gathering merchandise for the trip. I also heard he found another eight passengers who'll be traveling with him, though he didn't say who they were."
Francisco nodded, not giving it much thought. "You traveled by ship when you first came from Spain, right? How was it?"
Carlos gave him a mysterious smile. "Very enjoyable. I'm sure you'll love the journey."
Francisco nodded absentmindedly, but then noticed his father's expression. That smile—it seemed more mocking than nostalgic. A chill ran down his spine. "You're telling the truth… right?"
Carlos chuckled and smoothly changed the subject.
Francisco turned to Catalina, who was staring at him just as confused. They exchanged a silent look of mutual dread—whatever awaited them at sea, it probably wasn't going to be pleasant.
"Right," Francisco said finally, clearing his throat. "We're heading to Turbaco for a few days. Are you coming with us?"
Carlos gave his son a long look. "You should be rehearsing what you'll say at the viceroy's dinner — not running off on another vacation."
Francisco smiled lazily. "I'll practice there."
Carlos shook his head, half amused, half exasperated. "Fine. I'll go with you — just to make sure you don't cause any trouble."
Francisco and Catalina exchanged a glance and laughed softly. Soon after, they began packing light, comfortable clothes for the trip. They planned to rent a small estate in Turbaco, enjoy a few quiet days, and maybe take a refreshing dip in the Arroyo de Matute, letting the water wash away their worries before the coming dinner.