After so ti they reached the estate. It was more heavily guarded than before; an ard servant blocked their path and called out, "Who goes there?" But when he saw Carlos’s face his tone changed instantly. "Master—you’re finally back."
Carlos’s brow tightened. "Why so much vigilance?" He glanced around: most of the servants were ard and watching the road.
"Master," the servant answered, voice low, "there are a lot of people coming to buy cent. But among them are so with bad intentions. They saw how valuable the cent is and, when so many ca to buy, assud we keep large stores on the estate. So tried to force their way in. The butler ordered us to stand guard twenty-four hours a day to stop anyone."
Carlos sighed. "So you’ve been busy." He watched the servant hesitate and added, "Is there anything else?"
"We’re working hard, master," the man said, rubbing his hands. "So servants have fallen ill. I was wondering if we could hire more help."
Before Carlos could answer, Francisco spoke up. "That’s exactly what we planned. Most hires will be for security, so we’ll need recomndations. We’ll raise your wages, and if possible we’ll give so houses on the land in front."
Carlos blinked. Francisco hadn’t run this by him, but the need was obvious. With the factories finally earning money, they would need muscle to protect the assets. Still, Carlos wasn’t certain about the wage increase.
"Thank you, young master—thank you, master," the servant said, joy plain on his face. He opened the gate and ran to tell the news to the others.
They walked into the courtyard, and Carlos turned to Francisco. "Do you really want to raise their pay? We may have made a fortune, but isn’t that too generous? Our wages are already among the highest in Antioquía. Other landowners pay less and find excuses to dock wages."
Francisco rolled his eyes. "Father, a good salary buys loyalty. We’re no longer running only a plantation. If soone with ill intent bribes a servant, they could damage the factories; one day closed ans thousands of pesos lost. A raise of five or ten pesos is worth one day of production. We buy loyalty for a fraction of the cost."
Carlos looked unconvinced but nodded. "How many servants do you think we should hire? We currently have twenty."
"At least thirty more—maybe more," Francisco said.
"Thirty?" Carlos’s surprise was audible. "That’s almost a military company. In New Granada, most Spanish households keep between eighty and a hundred and thirty-nine soldiers; many aristocrats don’t even have thirty."
"That’s precisely why, Father. We’re not just businessn now; we must protect our industries. We should also send funds to Francisco de Ayala y Toro. If trouble arises on our routes, we need allies to secure them." Francisco’s voice was steady. "Money isn’t the problem anymore. We should do the sa in Popayán."
"You an the commander of arms?" Carlos said, eyes narrowing. "He isn’t soone you just buy."
"If we don’t pay a price, he may beco the one causing trouble," Francisco said. "It’s better to win support than face hostility."
Carlos rubbed his temple. "All right. Tell the butler to prepare."
Francisco felt the weight of what he was starting. He seed to grow twenty years older in that mont.
"Also," Francisco added suddenly, "I need materials."
Carlos’s expression went cold. "What are you planning now?"
"Antonio Nariño lent a book before we left." Francisco produced a small volu and held it up: Traité Éléntaire de Chimie. "It explains oxygen, hydrogen, carbon. I’ve always wondered why our swords and tools are poorer than those from Toledo. If we can replicate their steel, we could dominate the high-quality steel market in South Arica—or even in the Aricas."
Carlos’s face went livid. He slapped the table so hard the cups rattled. "That is the worst idea I’ve heard! Do you know what would happen if we tried to make Toledo steel? That’s a royal monopoly—a military monopoly. If the Crown learns we produce comparable steel, our family would be destroyed."
Francisco stared. The truth settled on him like a chill: the Crown would never let advanced weaponry flow freely in the colonies. It would strip their advantage and react harshly.
"I still think we need better steel," Francisco muttered.
Carlos was furious. "Soone bring a belt. I’ll teach this child a lesson." He grabbed a leather belt from a nearby servant, ready to strike.
"No—wait! Let explain!" Francisco backed away, panic flaring. He felt the mory of past punishnts like a hot brand.
The servant handed the belt to Carlos, who held it ready. "If you don’t give a reasonable explanation, you’ll learn why there are places one must never touch," he warned.
"All right—listen," Francisco said quickly. "Not for sale, at least not now. We’re too weak to produce openly. But we can study the theory. If we can replicate their thods on a small scale—arm our own n, make parts for our factories—we’d have resources to defend ourselves if needed. If one day we must build in secret, the blueprints and knowledge will already exist."
Carlos hesitated. Having the knowledge and not using it was safer than wanting it and lacking it entirely.
"Fine," he said at last, voice tight. "But your experints will be done in secret, far from the estate. Mountains—sowhere birds don’t perch." He tried to make the grimace half a joke and half a command.
"No problem," Francisco said. "I’ll only use the three blacksmiths and Catalina. No one else."
"I hope so," Carlos muttered. "You bring trouble. Now you want to play at alchemy. I’m worried you’ll invent sothing that can destroy an army with a glance." His tone was bitter—part fear, part fatherly exasperation.
"Go. I don’t want to see you until dinner." His hand dropped. The belt remained in his other hand, a last threat.
Francisco fled like a boy escaping a storm. He headed straight for the forge, where the blacksmiths were hamring at glowing iron. The heavy sll of coal, sweat, and hot steel wrapped around him like a second skin. He also wanted to check the alambiques and see if the first runs of his new alcohol venture had finished distilling.
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