After some time they reached the estate. It was more heavily guarded than before; an armed servant blocked their path and called out, "Who goes there?" But when he saw Carlos's face his tone changed instantly. "Master—you're finally back."
Carlos's brow tightened. "Why so much vigilance?" He glanced around: most of the servants were armed and watching the road.
"Master," the servant answered, voice low, "there are a lot of people coming to buy cement. But among them are some with bad intentions. They saw how valuable the cement is and, when so many came to buy, assumed we keep large stores on the estate. Some tried to force their way in. The butler ordered us to stand guard twenty-four hours a day to stop anyone."
Carlos sighed. "So you've been busy." He watched the servant hesitate and added, "Is there anything else?"
"We're working hard, master," the man said, rubbing his hands. "Some servants have fallen ill. I was wondering if we could hire more help."
Before Carlos could answer, Francisco spoke up. "That's exactly what we planned. Most hires will be for security, so we'll need recommendations. We'll raise your wages, and if possible we'll give some houses on the land in front."
Carlos blinked. Francisco hadn't run this by him, but the need was obvious. With the factories finally earning money, they would need muscle to protect the assets. Still, Carlos wasn't certain about the wage increase.
"Thank you, young master—thank you, master," the servant said, joy plain on his face. He opened the gate and ran to tell the news to the others.
They walked into the courtyard, and Carlos turned to Francisco. "Do you really want to raise their pay? We may have made a fortune, but isn't that too generous? Our wages are already among the highest in Antioquía. Other landowners pay less and find excuses to dock wages."
Francisco rolled his eyes. "Father, a good salary buys loyalty. We're no longer running only a plantation. If someone with ill intent bribes a servant, they could damage the factories; one day closed means thousands of pesos lost. A raise of five or ten pesos is worth one day of production. We buy loyalty for a fraction of the cost."
Carlos looked unconvinced but nodded. "How many servants do you think we should hire? We currently have twenty."
"At least thirty more—maybe more," Francisco said.
"Thirty?" Carlos's surprise was audible. "That's almost a military company. In New Granada, most Spanish households keep between eighty and a hundred and thirty-nine soldiers; many aristocrats don't even have thirty."
"That's precisely why, Father. We're not just businessmen now; we must protect our industries. We should also send funds to Francisco de Ayala y Toro. If trouble arises on our routes, we need allies to secure them." Francisco's voice was steady. "Money isn't the problem anymore. We should do the same in Popayán."
"You mean the commander of arms?" Carlos said, eyes narrowing. "He isn't someone you just buy."
"If we don't pay a price, he may become the one causing trouble," Francisco said. "It's better to win support than face hostility."
Carlos rubbed his temple. "All right. Tell the butler to prepare."
Francisco felt the weight of what he was starting. He seemed to grow twenty years older in that moment.
"Also," Francisco added suddenly, "I need materials."
Carlos's expression went cold. "What are you planning now?"
"Antonio Nariño lent me a book before we left." Francisco produced a small volume and held it up: Traité Élémentaire de Chimie. "It explains oxygen, hydrogen, carbon. I've always wondered why our swords and tools are poorer than those from Toledo. If we can replicate their steel, we could dominate the high-quality steel market in South America—or even in the Americas."
Carlos's face went livid. He slapped the table so hard the cups rattled. "That is the worst idea I've heard! Do you know what would happen if we tried to make Toledo steel? That's a royal monopoly—a military monopoly. If the Crown learns we produce comparable steel, our family would be destroyed."
Francisco stared. The truth settled on him like a chill: the Crown would never let advanced weaponry flow freely in the colonies. It would strip their advantage and react harshly.
"I still think we need better steel," Francisco muttered.
Carlos was furious. "Someone bring me a belt. I'll teach this child a lesson." He grabbed a leather belt from a nearby servant, ready to strike.
"No—wait! Let me explain!" Francisco backed away, panic flaring. He felt the memory of past punishments like a hot brand.
The servant handed the belt to Carlos, who held it ready. "If you don't give a reasonable explanation, you'll learn why there are places one must never touch," he warned.
"All right—listen," Francisco said quickly. "Not for sale, at least not now. We're too weak to produce openly. But we can study the theory. If we can replicate their methods on a small scale—arm our own men, make parts for our factories—we'd have resources to defend ourselves if needed. If one day we must build in secret, the blueprints and knowledge will already exist."
Carlos hesitated. Having the knowledge and not using it was safer than wanting it and lacking it entirely.
"Fine," he said at last, voice tight. "But your experiments will be done in secret, far from the estate. Mountains—somewhere birds don't perch." He tried to make the grimace half a joke and half a command.
"No problem," Francisco said. "I'll only use the three blacksmiths and Catalina. No one else."
"I hope so," Carlos muttered. "You bring me trouble. Now you want to play at alchemy. I'm worried you'll invent something that can destroy an army with a glance." His tone was bitter—part fear, part fatherly exasperation.
"Go. I don't want to see you until dinner." His hand dropped. The belt remained in his other hand, a last threat.
Francisco fled like a boy escaping a storm. He headed straight for the forge, where the blacksmiths were hammering at glowing iron. The heavy smell of coal, sweat, and hot steel wrapped around him like a second skin. He also wanted to check the alambiques and see if the first runs of his new alcohol venture had finished distilling.