The Andes Dream-Chapter 12: Future

After breakfast with his little sister, Francisco heard that his father was out in town, so he spent the morning reading. Around midday, once Carlos had finished his business, he called his son to his study. 𝕗𝐫𝚎𝗲𝘄𝐞𝕓𝐧𝕠𝘃𝕖𝐥.𝐜𝚘𝚖

"My son, is there something the matter? The servants told me you wanted to talk with me," Carlos said while still going through paperwork.

Francisco chuckled. "Did you forget, Father? Last night you asked me to come here to talk about my future."

"Ah, right. Sorry—I’ve been busy since morning. Those bastards from Cádiz... sigh." Carlos rubbed his tired face.

"Did something happen in the company?" asked Francisco, noticing his father’s frustration.

"Yes. Because of what I said in the palace, I offended both the viceroy and the bishop. That gave an opening for some ambitious men in the Company to push against me. You know that, thanks to your grandfather’s status in Spain, my position here is relatively secure, but many others have backers just as powerful. They wouldn’t dare fire me outright, but they try to reduce my power—cutting benefits, taking authority here and there. They never stop. Luckily, I have my own faction inside the Company, but with the viceroy’s help, they’re pressing hard this time." Carlos waved the matter aside. "Well, whatever. Your future is more important. Because of your mother, I only had two children. I must plan carefully. Do you want to enter the Cádiz Company as an apprentice? Or maybe the army?"

"I want to go to university," Francisco answered. The images he carried in his mind stirred again—he could recreate some of the technology he had seen, but without real knowledge, he would only be copying blindly. Professors were essential.

"University? That’s good. I have contacts at the University of Salamanca—or do you prefer Bologna?" Carlos asked, excited by the prospect.

"Actually, I was thinking of Göttingen, in Germany. They do a lot of scientific research." Francisco answered cautiously. Spanish society frowned upon studying in Protestant lands, and besides, learning German was an extra barrier most avoided. In Spain and Italy, at least, classes were taught in Latin—already familiar to the educated.

"Göttingen? Why so far? In Spain or Italy I could protect you. A degree from Salamanca or Bologna would open every door. I don’t know how useful a German title would be." Carlos frowned, clearly confused.

"Father, you know how I see the viceroyalty’s situation. I don’t want to take sides until I’m sure. Meanwhile, Germany’s advances in science are unmatched. If I want to build industry and raise strong troops, where better to learn? Hanover may not have the strongest army in Europe, but it’s far superior to Spain’s—or ours. If I could learn science and their methods of training, our army could someday be first-rate." Francisco spoke with conviction.

Carlos looked into his son’s eyes and saw his determination. He sighed. "Fine. I don’t fully understand why science is so necessary for the industries you dream of, but I’ll support you. For your mother’s sake, I still have some contacts in the Holy Roman Empire. I don’t know how useful they’ll be—your mother was a commoner—but she always told me that if our family needed help, I should write to them. I’ll send a letter. In the meantime, how’s your German? Your mother taught you some, but to study and live there you’ll need much more."

"I’ve been practicing with my sister and studying from Mother’s old books," Francisco admitted, though with a guilty look. The truth was, since her death he had barely practiced.

"You’d better study harder. You may have only a year or two before you’re ready to enter." Carlos pretended not to notice his son’s guilty conscience. "Now go—I need to focus on my work."

"Father... could you also help Catalina study there with me?" Francisco asked shyly, but with growing courage.

"Hmm? Why? Are you having thoughts about her?" Carlos was surprised—and wary.

"It’s not that. I just need people I can trust. Catalina and I grew up together; she could help me when we return." Francisco stammered, clearly nervous.

Carlos thought for a moment. "I won’t judge who you fall in love with. But you must understand—marriages between Spaniards and mestizas are frowned upon by high society. While you’re alive, no one may object, but when your son inherits, enemies could use it to strip him of property. It would be safer to marry elsewhere and keep Catalina as your companion."

Francisco was left speechless. "Wait—you? The man who married once and never remarried for religious reasons—you’re telling me to take a mistress? Who are you, and what have you done with my father?"

Carlos gave a bitter smile. "If you think I didn’t remarry because of religion, you haven’t read the Bible carefully. The Church has never opposed remarriage after a spouse’s death. My reasons were different: I feared inheritance disputes tearing our family apart, as they once did mine. I also feared a new wife mistreating you and your sister. You know my own mother was my father’s mistress—our lives were miserable, and her mistreatment eventually killed her. Even having a noble father didn’t protect us; it made things worse. Do you think I came to this remote colony because life was good in Spain? You’re too innocent, my child."

He continued, voice heavy: "That’s also why your grandfather arranged for me to marry a German girl. She was Protestant—he chose her to cut off any chance of me inheriting his title. Spain would never allow a bastard, but he still feared it. In the end, I accepted because I loved her." Carlos chuckled softly.

Francisco stood frozen, stunned by how twisted his family history truly was.

"Now go, boy. I’ll ask in the letter if Göttingen would accept a mestiza like Catalina as well. Go study—don’t waste your time."

"Thank you, Father," Francisco said gratefully, before leaving him alone.

Carlos rose from his chair and stared at a painting. "Oh, my sweet Anne... Francisco has grown. I wonder how you would have reacted if you were still here. Let me tell you..." Alone, he began speaking to his late wife’s portrait, as if she could still hear him, recounting everything about their son.