The next day, Krugger began his preparations.
The plan was neither brilliant nor ornate. It was simple. Brutal. Efficient.
He would strike every church in the eastern territories of Antioquia—reaching as far as Rionegro—the same day. The doors would be forced open, the gold and silver seized, the coffers emptied, the documents confiscated. And alongside the seizure of wealth would come the message: the Church would no longer rule unchallenged in these lands.
But such an operation required coordination. Officers. Men capable not only of violence, but of discipline.
New Granada, however, was a desert of talent.
Krugger had no academies to draw from, no experienced captains hardened in continental wars. He had only the two hundred men who had remained under his command since the beginning—loyal not because they were noble, but because they had survived together. He trained them relentlessly. Not merely to fight, but to move in silence, to obey signals, to strike without hesitation.
