After spending some time together, Krugger felt a little better. He placed the safe back in its spot, ran his hand along his sword, and then headed toward the city of Hanover to teach tactics to the Hanoverian army and fulfill his part of the agreement.

A couple of weeks later, in March, Krugger had finished everything necessary for his departure to New Granada with his troops. Francisco, seeing his grandfather preparing to leave, felt a strange and complicated mix of emotions. Even though he had only known him for a few months, he could clearly feel the affection his grandfather had for him.

He walked up to Krugger, who was giving orders to his men, and hugged him—making the old soldier visibly uncomfortable. After all, there were cultural differences between them; Prussia was a rigid and disciplined place. A hug, something perfectly acceptable in a farewell in New Granada, was extremely rare among Prussians. They had even argued about it before.

"Boy, you know I'm not too fond of hugs. That's a bad habit from the Hispanics," Krugger grumbled.

Francisco shrugged. "Did you forget that you were the first one to hug me when I arrived?"

The aides around Krugger chuckled, remembering how fiercely he had hugged his grandson the first time he saw him. Krugger's face reddened. "That was different—it was the first time I saw you. But you're far too fond of hugging."

Francisco shrugged. "You should get used to it. In Antioquia it's a pretty normal show of affection—and my little sister Isabella loves hugs even more than I do. So it's going to get worse."

Krugger shook his head with a heavy sigh. "You two should've been raised in Prussia. That way I wouldn't have so many problems with this."His image—already shaken by Francisco's affectionate display—was taking further damage in front of the Prussians, for whom such behavior was extremely rare.

Francisco chuckled. "We wouldn't be the same if that were the case." Then his expression became serious as he looked at his grandfather. "I hope you can look after Isabella. She's my—our family's—little treasure. I understand a war is inevitably going to break out in the colonies, but please, make sure she's safe. Even in the worst scenario."

Francisco felt painfully useless in recent months. He had expected the war to happen later. In his visions and the history books he remembered, this conflict wasn't even mentioned—likely because it wasn't significant enough on a global scale. The textbooks focused mostly on the French Revolution, and since they claimed independence was still twenty years away, he had subconsciously believed he would already be in New Granada when it began. But with his family's influence accelerating events, history had shifted too much. His father had been forced to declare independence early, leaving Francisco feeling helpless and unprepared.

Krugger saw his grandson's solemn, conflicted expression and understood it well. He had felt the same helpless frustration during the famine that took his wife and daughter. He nodded firmly."Don't worry, son. I'll make sure she doesn't suffer. She's my granddaughter too, after all."

Francisco nodded. "Thank you, Grandfather." He then bowed deeply—a gesture far more common in Prussian culture than in his homeland.

Krugger stiffened at the display but returned a curt nod. Then he mounted his horse."I'll see you in New Granada when you finish your studies here. Make sure you come as soon as you can."

Francisco watched as his grandfather rode to the front of the caravan, leading the men—likely toward Hamburg, where their journey would begin.Karl, standing behind Francisco, also watched the departing soldiers with a tinge of nostalgia. He would stay behind with Francisco, but many of the officers leaving were already old. Who knew how many of them would still be alive when he saw them again?

Francisco turned to him. "Do you have any family, Karl?"

Karl was caught off guard by the question. He shook his head. "No, sir. I was an orphan. Mister Krugger adopted me. He and the rest of the officers… they're probably the closest thing to a family I've ever had."

Francisco sighed and glanced back as he walked. He murmured, "In some ways… that might even be enviable," thinking about how his little sister might be doing, how his father was handling the tension in the colonies, and how his grandmother María was coping.He slapped his own cheeks lightly and said, "Let's go. We should prepare to support the campaign. Even if we can't take part in the actual war, we can still help in other ways. But for that, we need money."

Karl tilted his head. "Money, sir?"

Francisco nodded. "That's right. This world runs on money and power. We don't have power, so we have to make do with the next best thing—money."He walked toward the director's office, already forming a plan that could earn him some income while helping the university as well. After all, he needed a strong backing.

Karl was stunned by the response, his expression thoughtful. Although he was also young, he saw Francisco—who still held on to certain idealistic views, likely because of a much gentler upbringing—as a bit naïve. At seventeen, Francisco was technically a young man, yet there was still a certain boyish quality to him in Karl's eyes.

When they entered the library, Francisco greeted the librarians and approached Christian's office. Just as he was about to knock, he heard voices inside.

Christian was shouting, furious."Are you joking? I expected you ministers to increase my funding, and now you're talking about cutting it? I'm not so old that I can't fight you on this!"

The other voice, calm but displeased, replied, "You understand the Electorate's situation, don't you? France clearly has its eyes on us, and Prussia isn't far behind. We need to train more troops. You know we normally support your college, but this situation is exceptional. We don't know how the war will develop. If we don't prepare, not just your university—all of Hanover could disappear."

"But Baron," Christian protested, "preserving knowledge is more important than anything. If we want Hanover—and all Germans—to grow stronger, we need more books and more trained scholars."

The Baron sighed heavily."I understand. But this situation is special. There's no other choice. Until the war ends, I'll have to cut your funding by half—maybe more, depending on how things go."

The door opened then, and the Baron stepped out. He gave Francisco a brief glance but dismissed him immediately, mistaking him for just another apprentice or student from Göttingen. He walked away, leaving the old director slumped in his chair, exhausted and frustrated.

Francisco's eyes gleamed with opportunity. He whispered to Karl,"Wait for me outside. I need to speak with the director alone."

Karl nodded seriously and walked out of the library.

Francisco entered and said, "Director, I need to speak with you. This might be an opportunity for both of us."

Director Christian, looking a bit tired, replied, "Young Francisco, I don't think this is the time to discuss these things. Let me process the news I just received. I may be forced to cancel some projects or even fire some professors."

Francisco closed the door and lowered his voice. "That's exactly why I came. We both need money, and I might have an industry that can help."

The director's eyes lit up, but when he looked at Francisco, he seemed to remember something. He asked cautiously, "Are you talking about the Roman cement?"

Francisco nodded and then shook his head. "Roman cement is indeed one option, but I haven't yet searched for the resources needed for it. What I'm talking about is flavored alcohol."

The director frowned. "Flavored alcohol? What's that?"

Francisco then explained his experience with alcohol production and how he could set up a factory for aguardiente with flavors, which had once disrupted the entire industry in Spain. The old director was surprised, then cautiously asked, "Are you willing to give the monopoly to this institution?"

Francisco said, "It's a deal. I help build the factory, we split the money fifty–fifty, and we try to control the flavored–drinks market in the German states and even Russia. With that income, you could build more laboratories and support more projects—and I would have enough money to support the independence army in New Granada."

The director frowned. "But are you sure we can sell it? I've tasted some of that aguardiente merchants have sent, but it wasn't very good to me—only one, the blackberry one, I think."

Francisco was startled. "Blackberry?" he muttered. "It seems my father really did expand the range of flavored liquors to sell in Europe." He sighed—this meant his father might be even wealthier than before. Then he added, "But we don't actually need to follow New Granada's aguardiente or its flavors. I've heard that people in the German states enjoy cherry-flavored drinks. With the improved still I developed in New Granada, we could dominate the entire flavored–drinks industry and make money from the nobles across the German territories."

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