William sighed. "You know, you're trying to bite off more than you can chew. Asking for help from all of Europe might come back to haunt you later."

Francisco shrugged. "There's nothing else I can do. You know I only want to protect my family—but doing that alone is nearly impossible."

William exhaled heavily, rubbing his temple. "Fine. I'll try to convince Parliament—or maybe even the king. But I can't promise anything about the technology, and I doubt Prussia will agree to it."

Francisco offered a faint smile. "Perhaps they will—if we open the market of the future nation to them."

William frowned, his expression hardening. "Perhaps. You may go now; I'm not in the mood to talk further."

Francisco nodded, bowed slightly, and left the room, the sound of his boots fading down the marble corridor.

William waited a moment before stepping out of his house. Spotting his driver, he entered the carriage and said, "Take me to Buckingham Palace. I need to speak with His Majesty."

The driver nodded and guided the carriage through the damp streets of London. Hooves clattered against the cobblestones as the carriage wheels splashed through shallow puddles left by the morning drizzle. Oil lamps flickered faintly outside shopfronts, their yellow light blurred by the mist.

After some time, they reached the palace gates. Following a brief inspection by the guards, William was allowed inside and escorted to King George III's study.

Upon seeing the monarch, William bowed deeply. "Your Majesty."

King George regarded him with a stern expression. "You may rise."

William straightened and waited respectfully.

George tilted his head slightly, curiosity breaking through his composure. "What brings you here, William? Did something happen during your meeting with that young man, Francisco? My intelligence service forwarded the agent's report. I saw nothing remarkable about him—perhaps a touch precocious, but hardly significant."

William's expression grew grave. "Your Majesty, if I may—perhaps we have underestimated him."

George frowned. "What do you mean? Have you discovered something new?"

William nodded. "It appears the Duke of Spain is not his only notable relative. He also has a grandfather in Prussia—once a general under Frederick the Great. A commoner, from what I've heard. The fact that a man of humble birth rose to such a rank speaks volumes about his ability."

George allowed a faint smile. "Do not trouble yourself. From what I know, the current King of Prussia favors the nobility and suppresses commoners who rose during his uncle's reign. Impressive as the man may be, he will find little support now."

William hesitated. "That would be true—if his grandfather seeks only to preserve his position. But from what I understand, King Wilhelm is pragmatic. He won't dismiss the men who served Frederick faithfully. If this general offers to resign in exchange for supporting Francisco's cause, Prussia might yet lend its strength."

George fell silent, the thought weighing heavily on him. His gaze drifted toward a letter lying among the papers on his desk—one recently forwarded by his agents in Prussia. After a long pause, he picked it up and placed it before William.

"It seems you are not mistaken," he murmured. "I did not expect Johann Friedrich Krüger to be his grandfather."

William unfolded a sealed letter and read quickly. His face darkened. "It seems we were not far off, Your Majesty. I've heard of this man before—he was fiercely loyal to Frederick.

William opened the letter with a curious hand. As he read, his face went solemn. "It seems we were not far off. I have heard of this general—he was fiercely loyal to Frederick the Great. The very fact he has offered to resign suggests he may already have Prussian backing."

George watched William's expression and, seeing how unsettled he was, asked, "What did he request that made you frown when you learned of that alliance?"

William related everything Francisco had asked for: the troops, sending the prussian tropps he may recruit, and—most startling of all—the technology the boy sought. At the mention of that device, the King's mouth opened in surprise. When William finished, the office lay quiet.

King George III let his gaze wander across the study, lingering for a moment on the cross mounted upon the paneled wall. "Let us aid him," he said at last. "He is not wrong in claiming he must learn. But do not grant him the full sixty-eight pounds—only forty-two. That should be sufficient to defend a coastline against the Spanish navy. If they manage to endure for more than a few months, then, perhaps, you may sell them the sixty-eight cannons—but not the technology itself. And be certain to demand a proper price."

William inclined his head. "I had the same thought. We should also require the formula for Roman cement in return. I am reluctant to hand that over for nothing."

The King waved a dismissive hand. "I already obtained the recipe—the agent we sent secured it. The problem is their pozzolana; they use volcanic ash. That seems to be what makes the boy's material both strong and durable. We will need resources at that camp."

William frowned. "Do any of our colonies possess it?"

The King shook his head. "Not in the principal ones. I have dispatched a man to the Board of Trade and Plantations to investigate. For now, we must wait."

William nodded, frustrated. The King's face softened into an amiable smile. "Do not be so grim. It is a boon for Britain to find someone who may aid our designs. Supporting this new nation could also trouble those Yankees. I fear the lack of competition in the Americas gives them too much liberty; I hear they are beginning to expand."

William frowned. "I understand, Your Majesty. My concern is that the boy is sly—he said he would also seek help from the French Republic."

Contrary to William's expectation, the King actually smiled. "That is good, is it not? If they spend their coin supporting that boy's independence, they will struggle to keep their republican government stable. Perhaps they will collapse on their own—like that fool Louis XVI."

William chuckled at the remark. "Perhaps you are right, and I am overthinking it. Even if they unite the entire South, they would still be only a few million people—far fewer just in New Granada."

George nodded, still smiling. "Precisely. We should let him stir the waters and assist where we can, but no investment of money or soldiers. That is their war, not ours."

William inclined his head. "Of course, Your Majesty. I never intended to interfere directly."

The tension eased, and soon the two men were conversing animatedly until the door opened and an elegant lady entered the room. It was Queen Charlotte of Mecklenburg-Strelitz—a woman renowned for her grace and the mother of fifteen children.

William immediately bowed deeply and pressed a respectful kiss to her hand. "Your Majesty."

The Queen smiled kindly. "It is a pleasure to see you, Prime Minister Pitt. I hope I am not interrupting."

William straightened. "Not at all, Your Majesty. It seems His Majesty and I have already discussed all that was necessary. With your permission, I shall take my leave."

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