After climbing to the second floor, Francisco found four people waiting: two older n, around fifty or sixty, a young stiza woman—rare for such a gathering—and a well-dressed, intellectual-looking gentleman.
"A pleasure to et you," Francisco said, shaking hands with each of them, including the young woman. "I’m Francisco Góz, of the Góz family."
The bookish man stepped forward, extending his hand with a formal salute."Pleasure to et you. My na is Antonio Nariño."
Francisco almost staggered. He recognized the na from history books—this man was a major federalist figure, the first president of Cundinamarca during independence. Francisco had always wondered when he might et one of those próceres from the textbooks—nas like Simón Bolívar or Antonio Nariño. He hadn’t expected to encounter one in a café.
"I have a question," Francisco said, suddenly curious. "Do you like the army?" He rembered Nariño was once a commander.
The room fell silent. Everyone looked at Antonio with interest. Nariño chuckled softly."No, not really. I prefer politics. I own a printing press and help spread banned books to the people."
"Really?" Francisco asked, eyes narrowing with suspicion.
Antonio faltered. He was a wealthy criollo, raised in privilege. Why would soone like him choose the harsh life of a soldier with ager pay?
A cough broke the mont. Another man stepped forward."A pleasure to et you. I’m also Francisco—Francisco Ignacio Ugarte, of the Ugarte family."
"You’re from the Ugarte family?" Francisco asked, surprised. "Even the regidores of Santa Fe de Bogotá co from them."
"If that impresses you, you’ll be even more surprised by this gentleman." Ignacio gestured toward one of the older n. "This is Antonio Ricaurte Lozano, of the prestigious Ricaurte family—one of the oldest lineages in New Granada."
"A pleasure to et you," Ricaurte said with dignity.
Francisco bowed slightly. "An honor. And who might this lady be?" He nodded toward the young stiza. He was accustod to Catalina’s company, but it was still unusual to see a woman of mixed heritage among such elite circles.
"She is Isabella, a mber of our organization," Ignacio replied quickly, trying to change the subject.
Francisco studied her carefully. She wasn’t a servant—her closeness to Ignacio was more familial, almost like a daughter. Still, he knew better than to gossip.
Ignacio continued, "We wanted to learn more about you two youngsters who wish to join our organization. But I must say—you’re very young. Did you really create a new material?"
"To be exact, I rediscovered it," Francisco replied, already tired of repeating himself. "The material and its instructions already existed. I just perfected the process, making it cheaper and more durable."
"That is impressive," Ricaurte said. "I have so construction projects that could use your material. Where could I purchase it, so my master builders can test it?"
"My family has a factory in Antioquía. If you send soone there, I’d be happy to sell to you—at a discount." Francisco smiled slightly.
"Good. I’ll send an expert within a few months." Ricaurte leaned back, then studied him. "We wanted to et you, to asure your ideas. You seem energetic—perhaps too restless. Word has reached us that you’re often seen with that stizo boy. That damages your prospects of returning to Bogotá, you know."
"I know," Francisco admitted with a cunning smile. "But honestly, I don’t care. I’d rather turn Antioquía into a powerful territory than try to build in Cundinamarca."
"That won’t be easy," Ignacio warned. "Many families there are liberals, disliked by the viceroy, but others are tangled in intrigues, dreaming of returning to Bogotá to continue their petty fights."
"Maybe," Francisco said coldly, "but if I can help them grow rich, most will follow . And those who don’t—well, I’ll choose when the ti cos." His smile was unsettling, far too sharp for a sixteen-year-old.
"I hear you plan to leave New Granada for so years," Ricaurte asked. "Why?"
"I want to be a natural philosopher," Francisco explained. "But most Spanish universities don’t support that philosophy. I’ll need to study abroad."
"Is that philosophy useful?" Ricaurte pressed. As a rchant, he understood the value of practical knowledge.
"Well, Roman cent was rediscovered thanks to natural philosophy," Francisco replied. "With more knowledge and inventions, we could feed millions—even hundreds of millions. Imagine faster construction, better agriculture, cleaner water, improved transport, efficient training for soldiers and specialists. My cent alone reduces construction ti by seventy percent. Think what could happen if we applied the sa principles everywhere."
Ignacio licked his lips. "How much money would that be..."
Ricaurte’s voice dropped. "Independence."
The word froze the room.
"What?" Ignacio asked.
"All this leads there," Ricaurte said firmly. "Faster food ans lower prices. Lower prices an larger families. Water and transport strengthen the land. Soldiers can be trained quicker, moved faster. If what he says is true, independence is inevitable."
Ignacio sat back, stunned. "You really think cent could bring independence?"
"If construction is seventy percent faster, comrce will explode. Not only criollos, but stizos and even indigenous people will chase new opportunities. Yet New Granada has fewer than two million people, most of them slaves. Who will supply the labor?"
Francisco was stunned. Everything he touched seed to spiral into a conspiracy against Spain. But Ricaurte was right. He thought a mont, then said quietly: "Immigrants."
Ricaurte gave him a long look, realizing this might not have been Francisco’s original plan. He smiled. "That’s right."
Nariño, confused, asked, "What does immigration have to do with independence?"
"If more people of different cultures co," Francisco explained, "they’ll bring new ideas and discontent with Spanish rule. Eventually the population will grow too large for Spain to control. Add the spirit of freedom born from the French Revolution, and the perfect storm for independence is ready."
Nariño was shaken. Could immigration alone set off revolution?
Francisco pressed further. "Not only that—slavery will collapse. rchants won’t wait forever for immigrants. They’ll turn to the largest group already here—slaves and servants. To win their loyalty, they’ll fight for emancipation, offering wages instead."
Both Ignacio and Ricaurte looked at Francisco in shock. Roman cent wasn’t just building material; it was a spark that could transform society.
Francisco, flustered, protested, "You can’t bla ! I only wanted to build my still faster."
"We’re not blaming you," Ugarte muttered, "but how could you create sothing that changes the entire country without even realizing it?"
Ricaurte nodded grimly. "We must prepare our families. If this spreads, loyalty will matter more than ever."
Ugarte was calr. "It will take ti. There’s only one factory, and it’s far away in Antioquía. Until the other cities catch on, we’re safe."
But Francisco bit his lip. "That’s not exactly true. I ca to Bogotá to show Roman cent to the viceroy’s representative. He’s planning to upgrade the aqueduct, and if it works, the new one will be built with my material next year. I’d probably even be forced to set up another factory here in Bogotá."
Ignacio and Ricaurte froze. Only Nariño seed calm—his business was printing, which already required skilled labor.
"Boy, are you trying to kill us?" Ignacio hissed. "We have barely a year to free our slaves and raise wages before rchants start stealing our workers." He stord toward the stairs. "We’ll speak later, Antonio, Isabella—and you, Francisco. Don’t think this is over."
Ricaurte lingered a mont, studying Francisco carefully. I’ll need to send family to Hanover to study this ’natural philosophy,’ he thought. I won’t be caught unprepared again. He nodded once. "See you later, children."
Only Francisco, Antonio, and Isabella remained.
"Well," Francisco said, "my partner’s waiting. Do you want to et her?"
"Sure," Antonio and Isabella replied at the sa ti.
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