Kruger’s face twisted with open disgust.
"Are you lying to yourself, Carlos? Do you truly believe slaves would fight for their masters—for the privilege of remaining slaves? You think such loyalty is born from gratitude?"
He rose from his chair and pointed a rigid finger at him.
"In Prussia we have a word: Kadavergehorsam—the obedience of a corpse. That is what a slave gives you. He will stand where you place him and die where you command, but he will never truly fight. To fight requires ego... the belief that one’s own life holds value worth defending. The slaves you claim would resist freedom would do so only because their master ordered it—not because they believe in chains."
Kruger seized a heavy iron wrench from the table and raised it in his hand.
"You think they fear the abyss of freedom? Perhaps they do. Your world has kept them in darkness so long their eyes cannot bear the sun. But do not mistake fear for loyalty. The mont a stronger master appears—one offering a larger crust of bread or a sharper whip—they will turn on you. A slave has no honor to lose, only skin to save."
Carlos exhaled slowly.
He could see that Kruger believed every word—and perhaps he was not entirely wrong. So slaves did beco exactly what the Prussian described: n so broken by fear that obedience felt safer than hope.But the human mind was more complicated than any doctrine learned on European battlefields.
Prussia had never truly known slavery. It did not understand what generations in chains could do to a soul.
The deepest wound was not borne by the captured... but by their children, and their children after them. Raised beneath the shadow of the whip, taught that survival ant usefulness to a master, they grew dependent on the very hand that bound them. They did not love the chain—yet they feared the emptiness beyond it. Freedom, to them, was not light but hunger, cold, and the terror of not knowing how to live alone.
n like Ogundele, stolen from their holand, could still dream of liberty.But a child born in bondage, trained only to serve, might face freedom as a death sentence.
The thought stirred an old mory.
Once, while walking the estate with Francisco, Carlos had glimpsed pure disgust in his son’s eyes at the sight of slavery. The expression had unsettled him. Francisco had been raised among these people—yet he recoiled from the institution as if it were rot.
Troubled, Carlos had later spoken with the estate administrators and proposed freeing the slaves.
The reaction had been imdiate and fierce.Even so of the slaves themselves had wept, believing he ant to abandon them.Fear of rebellion—fear of chaos—had forced him to withdraw the offer.
Now, rembering that mont, he sensed an opportunity—perhaps this could finally give him the answer he had never been able to offer his son.
"Very well," Carlos said quietly. "Let us test your belief. I still have slaves on my estate. If you can convince them to accept freedom, I will grant it—fully. I will even hire them as paid workers once they are free. The choice will be theirs... but the task of persuading them will be yours."
He paused.
"To be honest, I have wanted this for a long ti. They always refused. Perhaps your Prussian convictions can succeed where mine failed—though I personally doubt it."
Kruger’s eyes glead with fierce satisfaction.
"Good," he said. "But if I succeed—if I win their freedom—you must promise sothing in return."
His voice hardened like drawn steel.
"You will abolish slavery in all territories under your rule."
Carlos shrugged."Of course. No problem. One of my n will guide you to my estate. Leave half of your soldiers here to protect this place. And... Isabella still does not know you are coming. In truth, she barely even knows of your existence. Since the day I nearly lost my life to the assassins, she has not been the sa. So of the servants tell she has been pressuring them to teach her military tactics and swordsmanship. She takes that training more seriously than the rest of her studies. Perhaps you could speak with her."
Krugger, already walking toward the door, suddenly stopped and frowned."A woman wishing to practice weaponry and military tactics? What kind of upbringing are you giving her? Such matters belong to n. A woman on the battlefield would only distract the soldiers and beco a burden to them. Why are you not teaching her properly? And what of this attempt on your life?"
Carlos frowned and let out a slow sigh."So you oppose slavery, yet deny a woman the freedom to train for war. Are you not being sowhat hypocritical? As for what happened... one of Bishop Esteban’s n tried to kill the daughter of an old rival of mine. She managed to escape to my estate, and in the chaos of that mont, a strange man appeared carrying an unfamiliar musket—you may have heard of it. They call it a fusil. I took the bullet ant for her and nearly died. Still, my n were able to recover the weapon, which proved useful during the defense of dellín. With it, we managed to bring down several officers among the fanati
Krugger’s expression darkened."Then they truly are receiving support from the Vatican. You may not realize it, but the distribution of such weapons is tightly controlled. Those fanatics could not have obtained them without the Pope’s blessing. You must be careful."
With that, he stepped outside, mounted his horse, and rode toward Carlos’s estate, guided by one of the household servants.
Carlos watched from the window as Krugger disappeared down the road. He sighed softly."Do you truly believe he can help us conquer New Granada? This Krugger carries ideas as radical as the Spanish—perhaps even more oppressive. Their discipline is frightening... and yet they behave almost like slaves to their own governnt. The worst part is that, like many slaves, they truly believe themselves free."
The butler standing quietly behind him inclined his head."Sir, perhaps it is only a difference in the aning of freedom. Not all n understand it the sa way. I have also read the book by that author Adam Smith—the one your son recomnded. He did not argue for absolute freedom, only for freedom from privilege in comrce. He despised when a king declared, ’Only I may sell this.’ Yet he did not oppose the state acting as a regulator. In the North, however, from what I have seen, they seem to resent any interference of governnt in trade."
Carlos raised an eyebrow."You an the United States? They oppose their own governnt?"
The butler inclined his head slightly."Indeed, sir. The leader of the faction that resists stronger authority appears to be a man nad Thomas Jefferson. If I am not mistaken, he was one of the authors of their declaration of independence. That grants his position a certain... protection."
Carlos sighed softly."What do you think Francisco would prefer—a governnt that holds firm control, or one that possesses little power at all?"
The butler allowed himself a quiet chuckle."Knowing the young master, I doubt he cares much for such matters. His heart belongs to machines and knowledge. He would probably say sothing like: ’If they allow to study whatever I wish and teach whover I choose, that is enough for .’"
A faint smile lifted Carlos’s eyelid."Yes... that sounds like him. And that is the greatest uncertainty of this entire plan. No matter how much we build, how much we sacrifice, it will all be aningless if he chooses not to claim what we leave behind. Still... I am proud that he has found sothing he truly loves."
The office fell into silence.Carlos’s thoughts moved without rest, turning over possibilities, searching for a future that might best serve his son.
On the other side of the valley, Kruger reached the estate.He pulled the reins of his horse, his back straight as a bayonet. Behind him, his n halted in perfect unison, the rhythmic clank of tal and leather the only sound cutting through the humid Antioquian afternoon.
Kruger studied the white-washed walls and elegant balconies.To Carlos, the house was a symbol of refinent and authority.To Kruger, it was a tactical disaster.
Leaning slightly toward his sergeant, he muttered with quiet disdain:
"Look at this, soldiers—clay and pretension. They call it a mansion. In Prussia, a wealthy rchant would not stable his horses in walls of sun-dried mud. One season of hard rain and it lts; one cannonball and the dream becos dust."
His gaze swept the grounds, seeing not bougainvillea and shade, but the absence of fortifications.
"They live like kings of an ancient age," he continued coldly."Venetian glass, French books... yet not a single bastion, not a cleared treeline for a field of fire. They believe gold and privilege make them noble. To a real army, they are rely rich peasants waiting to be plundered."
One soldier glanced at the carved wooden gates."It is a comfortable life, General. Perhaps that is what they are fighting for."
"Comfort is the enemy of survival," Kruger replied sharply."Carlos believes he brought us to liberate his land. He does not understand that liberty without stone and steel is only a passing shadow. Co—watch your boots on his tiled floors. Our host treasures his ceramics... " Kruger sneered with open disdain.
The soldiers exchanged silent glances.To them, the estate was enviable—closer to a dream than a weakness. Many had marched across oceans hoping for such a life.
But none dared speak.Prussian discipline still lived deep within their bones.
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