The Queen nodded softly as William departed. With a gentle smile, she moved to stand beside King George and began to massage his shoulders. "Your Majesty, you must be tired. Allow me to ease your strain."

George smiled faintly. "My Queen, you know that is not necessary—though I am curious as to what brings you here."

Charlotte's smile faltered for a moment before she sighed. "It is our son, The prince of wales. I am worried about him. All he seems to care for is spending money and hosting those extravagant gatherings with the young nobles."

A shadow crossed the King's expression. "I know. I have tried bringing that boy with me to church, but alas—he seems determined to ignore me as both his father and his King."

Charlotte hesitated. "What do you think we should do?"

George fell silent, lost in thought. His gaze drifted toward the door through which William had just departed. Suddenly, his eyes brightened. "What if we send our son to Göttingen?"

Charlotte frowned slightly. "To Göttingen? And what reason should we give for that?"

George answered, "It doesn't really matter, does it? We can simply say it's because we want him to oversee the educational interests of the electorate in Göttingen. That way, we can try to mitigate his bad reputation in London — and stop him from wasting money without reason."

Carlotta nodded, but then frowned slightly. "Why Göttingen, though? Wouldn't it make more sense to send him to Scotland or somewhere closer?"

George smiled, picked up a document, and said, "Because of this."

Carlotta looked at the document describing Francisco's background and life. She was a little surprised. "This boy seems rather ordinary… but it's true, he's more down-to-earth than anyone else. Do you want him to become friends with him?"

George smiled again. "Something like that. You see, we're preparing to support his independence in the future. That could bring us some benefits — and also serve as revenge against Spain. But without close relations, sooner or later we may become enemies. But if he befriends Francisco, even after independence, that connection could earn us an ally in America for years to come. And if his cause succeeds, the new nation might support him in the future."

Carlotta smiled faintly. "You're acting with a lot of confidence about this supposed independence. The boy doesn't even have soldiers yet. Aren't you being a little too quick in your judgment?"

George said seriously, "Before my talk with William, I didn't expect much from him or his movement. But after William told me about his other grandfather, I'm at least ninety percent sure he's going to make it."

Carlotta nodded. "Very well, then. Send him — let's just hope he doesn't get himself into trouble there."

George nodded solemnly with a sigh. Being a king wasn't easy.

On the other hand, Francisco returned to the inn. He went first to Ramiro's room and knocked on the door.

From inside came Ramiro's voice: "Come in."

Ramiro was seated at a small wooden table, a ledger open before him. A few silver coins clinked softly as he counted, his grin impossible to hide. He looked up, eyes gleaming with excitement."Look! Forty tons of silk, fifty-five tons of tea, thirty tons of Chinese porcelain, and twenty-five tons of clocks and assorted cutlery. With these goods, if I can sell them — whether in Spain or anywhere else in Europe — I might raise enough money for a new ship!"

Francisco smiled at seeing him so pleased. "Seems following my father's advice wasn't so bad, eh?"

Ramiro chuckled and coughed lightly. "Maybe not so bad… though I'm not going to forget your grandfather, you know."

Francisco laughed softly. "Speaking of that — I'm meeting with the ambassador this afternoon. Tomorrow, I plan to leave for Hanover. Are you taking me, or should I hire another ship?"

Ramiro hesitated, then sighed. "Sorry, kid. I think it's better if you rent another. This is a one-in-a-thousand opportunity, and I can't afford to lose it. But I'll make it up to you — to you and your father both."

Francisco nodded in understanding. "Don't worry. I just needed to be sure, so I can start looking for a new captain to take us."

Ramiro leaned back and smiled. "Then let me buy you a few drinks tonight — call it compensation."

Francisco grinned. "No problem. I'll visit the ambassador first, and after that I'll come back and drink with you."

"Good. Don't worry about the trip — I'll send some men to find a boat bound for Hanover. It's almost November, so you still have six months before the semester starts, or whatever they call it."

Francisco nodded with a small smile. "That's right. See you tonight."

"See you," Ramiro said, already turning back to his ledger with a look of greedy satisfaction. Francisco rolled his eyes and stepped out, amused.

He waited until after lunch before taking a carriage to the Spanish embassy. The autumn air was crisp, and the hooves of the horses echoed along the cobbled street. Inside, the air smelled faintly of ink and sealing wax.

The ambassador looked up from his desk, his brow furrowed."Didn't I tell you to come immediately after your meeting?"

Francisco shrugged. "I waited for you to finish lunch before coming. I was hungry myself — they only gave me tea."

The ambassador let out an irritated sigh. "Do you think we were in the mood to eat after learning you were meeting with their Prime Minister? Forget it—just tell me, what did he say?"

Francisco sighed, already knowing this conversation would be far more awkward than he wished.

Francisco ordered a coffee and said, "They want me to smuggle some Roman cement for them—to strengthen their forts. Of course, they offered a very good deal, so I told them I'd think about it."

The ambassador frowned. "You didn't reject them outright?"

Francisco rolled his eyes. "Do you really think that if I refused, they would stop buying it? They'd simply find someone else in New Granada to sell it to them. And honestly, I'm not interested in losing that kind of money."

The ambassador was speechless for a moment before saying, "You do know I represent Spain, yes? I could have you imprisoned for that."

Francisco chuckled. "That's exactly why I'm telling you. This way you can inform the royal family, and they can grant me a little leeway to sell it. It's not impossible for them to recreate Roman cement from scratch. The hard part is the volcanic ash—which we do have in New Granada—but if they find an alternative, they'll eventually make it themselves. In that case, better to let me profit from it, don't you think?"

The ambassador went silent, then muttered, "Because you took the initiative to confess this, I'll turn a blind eye. But if the viceroy catches you, that's on you."

Francisco shrugged. "I'm not in New Granada. That's my father's problem. Though if we help my grandfather become the appointed agent, I doubt even the viceroy would dare interfere."

The ambassador coughed, a little embarrassed, then fixed him with a firm look. "Did they tell you anything else? You must tell me."

A tense silence followed. Seeing the ambassador's unwavering stare, Francisco hesitated.

Francisco said, "He didn't say much directly, but he was trying to push me toward rebelling against the Crown. He never used the word, of course, but he made it sound as if they were willing to support me."

The ambassador frowned. "I knew it. Those bastards still want revenge on Spain—even now, when we're trying to form an alliance against the French. So what did you tell them?"

Francisco hesitated. "I neither agreed nor refused. I was worried that if I said no outright, they might… deal with me. This is their territory, after all."

The ambassador narrowed his eyes, studying him. After a long moment, he nodded. "Fine. I'll believe you. But you'll be under supervision while you remain in London—before you accidentally say yes to something you shouldn't." His sarcasm made it clear he didn't appreciate Francisco's answer.

Francisco sighed helplessly. "Don't worry. I'm leaving for Hanover tomorrow, so you don't need to worry about me running around London."

The ambassador's smile was anything but friendly. "You do know Hanover belongs to the British royal family, don't you?"

Francisco went still. "I… honestly didn't know. I thought Hanover was just German territory."

The ambassador chuckled and let out a cold snort. "Of course you did. We'll be sending an agent to keep watch over you during your stay in Hanover. They will pose as maids—but you will bring them with you at all times."

Francisco lifted his hands in defeat. "Fine. But they can't sleep with me or stay in my bedroom. That's my limit."

The ambassador narrowed his eyes again. "You're not exactly in a position to negotiate."

Francisco spoke more firmly. "Actually, I am. My grandfather is waiting for me in Hanover, and I don't want him mistaking your agent for an assassin. He might kill her by accident—you know how generals are."

The ambassador's voice grew colder. "Careful, boy. You're stepping onto a path you don't want to walk."

Francisco shrugged. "Sorry, but that's my only condition. And it's more than enough to prove to Spain that I have no dealings with British officials."

The two stared at each other in a long, silent contest of wills. At last, the ambassador yielded. Francisco gave a short nod and headed for the door.

Just as he reached it, the ambassador called after him in a low, threatening voice, "Be careful, boy. Your decisions can affect more than just you—they can ruin your family. Including that mestiza you're always traveling with."

Francisco stopped, anger flashing in his eyes. But in the end he swallowed it down, steadied his breath, and walked out.

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