The days passed quietly, and the meeting with the Prime Minister came sooner than expected.The Prime Minister of Great Britain was William Pitt the Younger, a disciplined and pragmatic politician known for his belief that government should rest in the hands of Parliament, not the King. Though this might sound somewhat liberal, in truth he deeply respected the hierarchy of nobility and the upper classes as instruments of stability — a stance that some considered contradictory, since Pitt himself was a meritocrat who had risen to power through sheer talent and effort.

As expected, the place of the meeting was Downing Street, the official residence of the Prime Minister. Considering Francisco's status as nothing more than a merchant from New Granada, he had clearly been invited in a personal capacity rather than an official one.

Francisco took a carriage through the streets of London until he reached Downing Street."Stop," a guard ordered. "You may not bring weapons inside. Leave them here — they will be returned once your meeting is over."

Francisco nodded in understanding. He removed two pistols hidden in his sleeves, a dagger tucked in his stockings, and even a third pistol strapped to his back.

The soldiers exchanged astonished looks. One muttered, "You seem well prepared for any situation, aren't you?"

Francisco chuckled awkwardly. "Sorry, but you know — in America, anything can hunt you, not just men. Carrying weapons has simply become a habit."

The soldiers shook their heads but said nothing more. After a brief search to ensure he carried no other weapons, they escorted him inside to the Prime Minister's office.

Inside, William Pitt sat with a serious expression, sipping tea as he read through a stack of papers.

William, without looking up from his desk, said calmly,"Sit down for a moment and have some tea. Maxwell, serve our guest a cup. Let me finish signing this document, and then we shall talk."

Francisco nodded. "No problem." He found a sofa and sat down, quietly sipping his tea as he observed the Prime Minister. His first impression was surprise — so young.Great Britain was no small or timid nation hidden in history; it was a superpower, stronger even than Spain. Yet one of the two most powerful men in the kingdom wasn't even thirty-five years old.

Twenty minutes passed before William finally signed the last paper. He turned to his secretary."Maxwell, send these documents to Parliament for review. If there are no objections, have them passed."

"Yes, sir," Maxwell replied.

"And one more thing," William added, his tone sharpening. "Do not let anyone in. We must speak of certain matters that should remain confidential. Post two guards at the door — no one enters unless I give permission."

"Yes, sir," Maxwell repeated before leaving the office.

Francisco raised an eyebrow. Spain will surely learn of this, he thought. And their suspicions about me will only grow. He rubbed his temple, already feeling the headache he would have to face once he returned to the embassy. Then his eyes narrowed as he studied Pitt — suddenly sensing that this might all be a calculated move, a British ploy to make him look like an enemy of Spain.

William noticed the look on Francisco's face and said with quiet insight,"You're worried the Spanish embassy will learn of our private conversation, aren't you?"

Francisco nodded. "That's right. You may not realize it, but Spain keeps a close watch on such matters. Not only did I come here to speak with you — even within the embassy they removed everyone else from the room."

William waved a hand dismissively. "They cannot reach into the Prime Minister's circle — at least, not yet. You needn't worry. I can easily instruct my men to say that our meeting was merely about commerce — perhaps about importing that Roman cement you sell into Britain."

Francisco's expression softened slightly, though his voice carried a hint of irony."I understand your point, but you must remember — Spain managed to steal a fair share of your technology not long ago. So I'm not entirely convinced they haven't already reached your circles."

William fell silent for a moment, then said, "That was a careless act by the government — but more so by Boulton and Watt. They are a private company; we cannot simply command them. At the time, we lacked control and therefore adequate security. It was only because of Spain's pressure that the company's shareholders were forced to accept tighter safeguards."

Francisco nodded. "All right. Then let's speak plainly. I see you are different from many politicians — you do not talk in circles."

William smiled, lifting his teacup. "I understand from the King's agent that you have shown an intention to declare independence, though you have not yet taken the final step."

Francisco raised an eyebrow at the bluntness — preferable, he thought, to evasions. "That's correct. But independence is not merely a proclamation. You must consider soldiers, population, a navy. Spain may have been checked by your country, but they remain among the great powers. We are only a million souls in New Granada; can we hope to face a nation with ten times our population, superior arms, and ships? That is before asking how many of those million would support a rebellion and how many would defend Spain."

William Pitt nodded, weighing the problem. "I understand. That is precisely why I asked to see you. I need certain facts before I bind myself to support your cause."

Francisco frowned. "May I ask—why me, Prime Minister Pitt? There are more established liberals in New Granada who might bear the burden—and who might be more useful if your aim is to strike at Spain."

Pitt was mildly surprised that Francisco would so readily offer up others; few men could restrain their ambition when seeking foreign support for independence. Yet he answered nonetheless. "Do you know what was the most humiliating chapter in Britain's recent history?"

Francisco thought a moment, then ventured, "The loss of the American colonies?"

Pitt's expression tightened, then he nodded. "Exactly. Spain and France chose the perfect moment; we lost a rich colony. It would be difficult not to feel wronged. The trouble with many of the so-called 'liberals' in New Granada is that they are uncertain what they are fighting for. Wars such as these require an idea, an ideal, rather than mere interest."

Francisco frowned. "You mean those who want independence only seek profit — not truly to stand against Spain?"

William Pitt nodded. "That's right. Most of them don't care whether Spain rules them or some other power. What matters is that their wealth and influence remain untouched. But you — you're different. Or at least, a little better."

Francisco's brow furrowed deeper. "What do you mean? My reasons are also rooted in my own interests."

William gave a faint smile. "I know. You mean Catalina — your wife, right?"

He reached for a folder and laid several documents on the desk before Francisco. On them were details of his life in New Granada — everything, down to the smallest trace. The silence that followed was heavy, almost suffocating, as Francisco's eyes fell upon the pages.

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