He walked slowly down the line, his spurs clicking softly against the stone floor. The sound carried in the silence, measured and deliberate.
He stopped before the House of Velásquez.
Men he knew. Men he had once dealt with when he was still an agent of the Crown, negotiating cargo and favors under its authority.
"You waited," Carlos said, meeting the gaze of the eldest Velásquez. "You waited to see whether Krugger would hang from a gallows… or take the river."
A brief pause followed.
"You played both sides, hoping to preserve your estates—no matter who came to occupy the Governor's palace."
The older man shifted, his expression tightening.
"We were being prudent, Don Carlos. For the sake of our families—"
"Prudence," Carlos interrupted, his voice sharpening just enough, "is for merchants in times of peace."
He held the man's gaze.
"In war, it is only cowardice… dressed in better language."
Silence settled again.
"I have no interest in your excuses."
