The Andes Dream

In the following days, Francisco began working for Christian and received permission to read any book he wanted inside the factory. He was particularly excited by Watt's writings on steam machines, like the ones he had seen in Newcastle. There were also books about the construction of canals and bridges. Although Roman cement would not work as well for some of these projects, with a few adjustments, it might still achieve remarkable results once he returned to New Granada.

Meanwhile, back in New Granada, his father was in a very different mood.

In a discreet location in Bogotá, the leaders of the Liberals were gathering to discuss independence. This time, Carlos was trying to convince the others to pursue real independence, not just sporadic rebellions.

"Gentlemen," Carlos said in a strong voice, "I've heard that Spain is preparing to go to war with France. This gives us the perfect opportunity to declare independence. The Spanish government will need to station most of its troops along its borders with France. And honestly, not all Spanish soldiers in New Granada are truly loyal—some might join us if we offer the right incentives."

His goal was to unite every influential man there and push Spain out of New Granada. But it was clear not everyone agreed with him.

"Although I understand what Mr. Carlos is trying to say," another leader began, "the reality is that Spanish soldiers are not weak. Even if we gather all the mestizos and indigenous people to fight with us, there is no guarantee we can win. And tell me, how many mestizos, criollos, and indigenous would truly rise up and fight to the death against Spanish troops? You know that once we declare independence, we will become enemies of the Spanish Crown. That means merchants who earn their living through trade with Spain will lose their livelihoods."

Carlos frowned and whispered to his butler, "It seems not all Liberals are truly interested in independence."

The butler looked around. Only a few military officers and bureaucrats—men who already worked for the viceroy—seemed enthusiastic. Most merchants, on the other hand, showed little or no interest in full independence. So the butler replied:

"I think it's a matter of interest, master. After independence, the bureaucrats would likely become government officials, and the military would become the backbone of the new nation. They stand to gain the most. Merchants, however, might lose their income if independence disrupts trade. Even with the heavy taxes they face today, they still earn a great deal. Unless the viceroy suddenly seizes their wealth, they probably prefer reforms over a full break with Spain."

Carlos frowned and sighed."It seems Francisco's idea of working with them was a little too idealistic. They're probably so different from one another that, unless a catastrophe happens in Spain—like the fall of the kingdom—most will prefer the status quo."

The butler nodded, then whispered,"Perhaps we should speak with those who truly are interested and form another group."

Carlos nodded helplessly and whispered back,"How did the Álvarez and Lozano families react to the idea of independence?"

The butler replied softly,"They seem hesitant. One is a bureaucratic family, but their current patriarch is Iberian. The other belongs to the nobility. They see the potential gain, but they also understand the risks."

Carlos frowned."This is going to be harder than I thought. It seems we'll have to take the initiative ourselves. We can talk more once we're outside."

The butler nodded and fell silent, standing behind Carlos while still observing the other leaders.

Carlos's words had unintentionally created a clear division among the factions. They spent hours arguing, trying to reach a unified decision, but no agreement ever formed. Carlos had expected this outcome, but it still frustrated him. The war between Spain and France was the perfect opportunity for independence—yet not everyone saw it that way. The meeting ended without any resolution.

Once outside, Carlos ignored the other leaders and stepped into his carriage, but before he could depart, the Marquis Lozano approached with his men. Politely, he said:

"Excuse me, Mr. Carlos. Could we speak with you for a moment?"

Carlos was still irritated, but he gave a small nod. Jorge Tadeo Lozano, Marquis of San José de Bogotá, was a true nobleman with a high-ranking lineage in New Granada—yet with no real power whatsoever. After all, he was still a criollo. The irony of Spain's bloodline policies was embodied in him: an American-born noble with the blood of Spain, yet denied authority simply for being born on the wrong side of the ocean.

"Marquis Lozano, may I ask what brings you here? After all, I didn't see much support for my idea from you."Carlos's voice carried a clear edge of resentment toward the marquis—his closest supposed ally.

"Please, don't say that, Mr. Carlos." The marquis sighed, lifting his hands slightly in a helpless gesture. "I understand why you may feel resentful, but you must also understand that achieving true independence is not simple. There are many things I must consider. My title as marquis is one of them. If I openly support you, those who oppose independence may inform the viceroy—or worse, the Crown itself. I could lose not only my wealth, but all my properties."

Carlos frowned."Then why speak with me here? Don't you think it looks very suspicious that you approached me alone right after my speech?"

The marquis gave a dry, weary chuckle."It is suspicious. They may even believe I'm here to convince you not to support independence. But the truth is… I genuinely support it. And many among the criollo elite stand behind me."

Carlos nodded slowly."Because of the glass ceiling, then?"

The marquis's shoulders sagged."That's right. You have no idea how humiliating it feels. I'm the only noble who cannot obtain a real position of power—not in Spain, and certainly not here. People laugh behind my back. Even you and your son, both commoners in the eyes of the peninsula, have had more opportunities for power in New Granada than I, a dignified marquis born in the wrong land."

Carlos remained silent for a moment before finally asking,"I must know—what do you expect to gain from independence? You must understand that no one wants a new king over their heads. Even if we break from Spain, monarchy is the least likely system we'll adopt."

The marquis nodded."Don't worry. I am aware of that. I do not expect a crown or a throne. I only want the ability to hold a real position of power. Truth be told, I live in fear that someday the Spanish Crown will decide a criollo should not possess so much wealth… and order the viceroy to take it away. And if that happened, there is nothing I could do. My title is more useless than the barons' titles in the peninsula."

Carlos let out a small chuckle and asked,"And what about the Álvarez family? What did they say?"

"More or less the same." The marquis sighed again. "They have power now, yes, but the patriarch is old, and most of his sons and daughters are criollos. The Iberian branch of the family may not care—or may even oppose independence—but the family isn't monolithic. We must win over the criollo side of the Álvarez family if we want their full support."

Carlos was surprised—though not entirely. Coming from a noble family himself, he understood perfectly that large houses rarely acted as a single, unified block. Interests differed. Loyalties shifted.He sighed and finally said:

"Fine. Let's talk at my estate. I'll be staying in Bogotá for the next couple of weeks, so we can try to form a plan. But I expect your full support once we decide on it."

The marquis exhaled in relief. Then, hesitating slightly, he asked:

"Should we invite the military leaders as well? I've heard that Colonel Baraya is also frustrated with the Crown, and some generals have been whispering about independence. Though… we must treat them with extreme caution. They hold the actual military power. If we give them too much influence, they might even demand a crown for themselves."

Carlos frowned, then nodded with a tired sigh.

"You're right. But without military support we can achieve nothing. So yes—we must invite them."

The marquis nodded and stepped down from the carriage. Carlos tapped the roof, giving the order to move. The carriage rolled forward, leaving the marquis and his aide behind on the street.

The aide leaned toward his master and murmured:

"Master, why are we depending on that man, Carlos, to lead the independence? Shouldn't we take the initiative? Or even bring some military men to our side instead?"

At this, the marquis slapped his aide lightly on the back of the head.

"You're too naïve. Carlos is not just a merchant. He is the grandson of the Duke of Lerma in Spain—and his own son is, apparently, the grandson of a German general. With his grandfather's influence, he holds almost a monopoly on Roman cement. And with the German general behind him, he may even have troops. Honestly, he has enough strength to push the entire colony toward independence on his own."

The aide blinked in confusion."Then why doesn't he do it?"

"Because declaring independence is the easy part, you fool." The marquis slapped him again, frustrated. "Controlling the colony after independence—that is the hard part. He's not an idiot like you. I've told you a hundred times to study more."

The marquis fell silent and watched the carriage disappear down the street, a shadow of worry crossing his face.