"So, what brings you here? No, let me guess—it must be about the situation with Spain. But why are you here and not your father?" Admiral George Dewey, his voice gruff yet curious, leaned back in his chair, cigar in hand.
"He's incredibly busy, so I've come in his stead. Don't worry, Admiral. My words carry my father's full authority," the young man replied, his voice steady despite the obvious age and status gap between them.
"I see," Dewey murmured, studying him with a mix of skepticism and amusement.
Dewey, now in his sixties, sat across from a teenager who seemed oddly composed for someone so young. Yet, instead of dismissing him, Dewey listened. There was something about this boy—something sharp, calculated, and far beyond his years.
"The Philippines will be the key to this war with Spain," the young man stated plainly.
"And why do you think that?" Dewey asked, exhaling a puff of smoke as he waited for the boy's answer.
