Francisco said cautiously, "It seems Great Britain has a rather effective intelligence service."

William raised an eyebrow. "Oh? I'm surprised you didn't suspect the agent who travelled with you. Elizabeth—was that not the alias she used?"

Francisco shook his head, speaking with quiet conviction. "Most of this information was gathered before I reached Cartagena. We only met there. Even if she later helped compile the dossiers, she couldn't have done so before she learned of me. At the dinner where she posed as the daughter of the commodore, she knew nothing about me—she was surprised by my name."

Pitt inclined his head, a hint of approval in his expression. "Clever. No — these reports have been compiled since the loss of our American colonies. We've been paying close attention to influential figures in New Granada. You only became noteworthy after your work with the Roman cement."

Francisco nodded, remembering that before then he had been little more than an officer's son following his father about. He pressed on. "That still doesn't answer my question. I want to defend my interests as much as any other liberal. What makes me different from the rest?"

Pitt looked out the window for a long moment before answering. "Because you cannot be reconciled with Spain. For Madrid, questions of bloodline and legitimacy are the rope that ties the New Granadan elite to the Crown. For you, those very policies are the barrier that will prevent your son—or any heirs you may have—from claiming legitimate rights in New Granada. That makes your cause more personal, and far more dangerous to the Spanish state."

Francisco went silent for a moment, then frowned. "But if the Spanish Crown were smart, they could simply grant Catalina a certificate of pure Spanish bloodline to win me over."

William smiled faintly. "That's exactly why I say you're different. If you were a typical Spaniard, that would work. But you were raised among mestizos — you understand them, and you see them as more than just the lower class. They might offer you that certificate, yes, but would you really accept it? I doubt it. You don't only want to improve Catalina's life — you want to improve the lives of every mestizo and even the slaves of New Granada. Ideals, Francisco — ideals are the strongest tools a man can wield. That's the difference between you and the others. Of course, there are others who speak of equality and freedom, but you're the only one with the strength to make those words possible."

Francisco raised an eyebrow. "How do you know that? Economically speaking, sure, I have the means — but that doesn't mean much."

William chuckled softly, then took out a cigar and offered one to Francisco. After Francisco accepted, Pitt lit his own and spoke between slow puffs of smoke. "Actions. I've read about the schools you asked your father to build in Medellín and Santa Fe de Antioquia. They don't discriminate — they teach every child, regardless of status or race. Do you know how many young men in New Granada talk about equality? Dozens. Perhaps hundreds. But none of them act on it. You, on the other hand, never speak of equality — and yet the first thing you did with your fortune was to make it real."

Francisco finally understood. His decision to fund education for all children had unintentionally raised his political value in Britain's eyes.

William continued, pulling another document from the pile on his desk. "We also know about the immigrants you're bringing to Antioquia from across the world. Honestly, the smugglers you hired are rather incompetent — if we hadn't sunk a few Spanish ships, Madrid might have already learned of it."

A chill ran down Francisco's spine as he read the report, his eyes widening. "You sank Spanish ships? Aren't you supposed to be allies?"

William laughed quietly. "Of course we are — on paper. But that doesn't mean there's no rivalry. We will never lower our guard when it comes to Spain."

Francisco fell silent, stunned. Being at odds with Great Britain—especially at the height of its power—was suddenly a frightening prospect. He took a breath. "All right. Now that I understand the stakes, let me be clear: there are many things we will need for independence. You probably know something about my grandfather, do you not?"

William frowned. "Your grandfather—the Duke? Is the Duke of Spain involved in New Granada's affairs?" he asked, surprised.

Francisco chuckled. "You don't know everything. I meant my maternal grandfather. He was a Prussian general. He's actually waiting for me in Hanover. I want him to help recruit Prussian troops to train a new army for New Granada."

William was momentarily speechless. "Prussia… we should perhaps increase our intelligence there," he murmured. "So you want help transporting them to New Granada?"

Francisco nodded. "Yes. I need them landed in the Gulf of Urabá. From there my father will take care of the rest. As for the timing of a declaration, I'd prefer to wait until I finish my studies in Hanover. If my father decides otherwise, you may speak with him."

William inclined his head. "Very well. There is another matter—what form of government do you intend to establish once you declare independence?"

Francisco hesitated. "Honestly, I'm not sure. I'm still studying different systems—and, truthfully, none of them convinces me yet."

William raised an eyebrow. "I had thought to recommend a monarchy. But knowing your connection to Prussia… that complicates matters." He frowned, considering the implications of Prussian influence and the difficulty of securing political backers. "You may think it over, but I oppose a republican model. I suspect the rest of Europe feels the same—no one wants a new republic to appear, even on the other side of the world."

Francisco understood: a republic would be anathema to most European powers. He continued, "We will also need protection from the Spanish navy—though I doubt you are willing to fight Spain for us."

William was silent for a long moment, then nodded.

Francisco pressed on, "So, in exchange, we ask for cannon technology—42-pounders, and if possible some 68-pounders."

William started in shock. "Are you mad? You're asking for our most advanced artillery technology? And not just the cannons — the very method to manufacture them?"

Francisco only shrugged. "If you cannot protect us, what's the point of lending a few cannons? If we lose a battle, we lose the war — but if we have the knowledge to build them, then even in defeat we can rebuild and keep fighting."

William exhaled slowly and sat back down. "I doubt Parliament will approve that," he said after a pause. "Still, I'll ask them. Do you need anything else? Food, muskets?"

Francisco shook his head. "No. I plan to request muskets from Prussia. Their models are said to be more reliable — and since their men will be training my troops, it's better we use their weapons as well, don't you think?"

William gave a strained smile. Clever — with that, Francisco wouldn't depend entirely on one ally. Then, after a moment of hesitation, he asked curiously, "Are you also planning to seek support from the French Republic?"

Francisco shrugged again. "I don't know. But if the opportunity presents itself, I would not refuse."

William's expression darkened. So that was his true plan — not just to study, but to court every power in Europe. For a long while, neither of them spoke; only the faint crackle of William's cigar filled the room.

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