"The Crown lives from the tobacco of this region," Carlos said, tapping the map before him. "If we annex Bucaramanga without bloodshed, we take the Real Estanco for ourselves."
He paused, letting the implication settle.
"We do not burn the crops—we purchase them. We pay in coin, not in promises from a king three thousand miles away. When word spreads that we pay in silver while the Crown pays in debt, the surrounding parishes will come over to our side… without a single shot fired."
Krugger nodded slowly, his gaze fixed on the terrain. In his mind, the map was already transforming—positions, elevations, lines of fire.
"If they join us willingly," he said, "their men may serve as guías. No one knows the hidden routes toward Maracaibo better than a trader from the Meseta."
His finger moved along the high ground.
