Carlos remained in the factory, observing the first steam engines that now occupied the space with their imposing presence. The air still carried the smell of burned castor oil and hot metal, while the characteristic chuff-chuff-chuff filled the environment like a mechanical breath.

  He approached Nia, who was already examining one of the machines with a critical eye, her fingers running over the metal surfaces like a jeweler assessing a rare gem.

  "Nia, now that we have our steam engine factory running," Carlos began, speaking a little louder to overcome the ambient noise, "I want you to use these first units to produce repeating weapons and ammunition."

  Nia wiped the sweat trickling down her face with the back of her hand, leaving a slight smudge of grease on her forehead. Her eyes shone with professional enthusiasm.

  "Finally!" she exclaimed with a genuine smile. "I've been looking forward to putting these machines to work on something truly challenging."

  Carlos picked up a folder of technical schematics he had brought with him and handed it to her.

  "Here are all the designs you'll need. From the feeding mechanisms to the assembly lines."

  Nia took the papers with almost reverential care, as if receiving a treasure. Her attention was already completely absorbed by the complex diagrams. Without a word, she turned and went to one of the newly finished steam engines, starting to make adjustments and measurements while murmuring to herself.

  Carlos watched for a moment, smiling at the absolute dedication of the blacksmith, who could now more aptly be called an engineer. Knowing he would get no more attention, he left the factory and headed for the town hall.

  On the way, Carlos decided to take a route that passed through the busier areas of the mocambo. The heavy, metallic air of the industrial zone gave way to the gentler scent of the ipê trees planted along the sidewalk which, despite being far from blooming season, still managed to clean the air. As he passed along a concrete street, his gaze was drawn to a group of children playing with an improvised soapbox cart. What surprised him were the wheels—they weren't simple wooden discs, but wheels with metal axles that spun smoothly on metal bearings. He smiled, recognizing that his technological innovations were already spreading in creative ways throughout the community.

  Further on, an older man, his face weathered by the sun and his hands calloused, recognized him and approached with a wave.

  "Chief Carlos!" called the man, whom Carlos recognized as Mr. Arlindo, one of the most experienced farmers in the quilombo. "I just wanted to thank you for these new steel plows. The earth cuts like butter, I've never seen anything like it!"

  "I'm glad to hear that, Mr. Arlindo," Carlos replied, stopping to chat. "And how are the new seeds performing?"

  "Well, very well! Tassi does an incredible job, I never imagined wheat would grow here!" the man said, animated. "But, Chief, with all due respect... these new horses are strong, but they're very expensive, even paying in installments, I think I'll be paying for them my whole life..."

  Carlos nodded understandingly.

  "Well, you see, with the money you'll make from planting and transporting with the horses, they'll pay for themselves in no time. Know that more people from other mocambos are coming to live here, and they will spend more money on food, not only that, but merchants who come to buy products from the quilombo are starting to buy the food that's cheaper here."

  "Ah, that's good!" the man smiled, showing a few missing teeth. "Thank God and you, sir, everything will work out!"

  Carlos continued on his way, now more aware of the everyday concerns his progress brought with it.

  If this man knew how much we pay for each horse... It was 400 thousand réis per horse! The merchants gouge us mercilessly, and we sell them for half the price to the farmers and they still complain about the price!

  Putting these thoughts aside, he headed towards the town hall. Upon entering the building, the comforting aroma of tea greeted him. He poured himself a mug and was taking the first sip when Aqua appeared in the doorway, her white hair forming a halo against the corridor light.

  "How did it go at the factory?" she asked in her soft, low voice that always brought a sense of calm.

  Carlos settled into his chair, slowly spinning the mug in his hands before answering.

  "It was good, very good. With this, we'll soon have more steam engines to help in various industries of the quilombo. It will greatly reduce manual labor and optimize various functions."

  Aqua sat in the chair opposite his desk, carefully adjusting her skirt before speaking.

  "You always talk about reducing work, but in the end, you end up creating more," she observed with a smile. "Think about the horses and animals we bought... We spent a small fortune, and the result? More work, because now materials are transported faster. Cement, bricks, wood... Everything arrives so quickly that we need more employees just to handle the unloading and organizing."

  She paused, looking out the window at the constant movement of the quilombo.

  "And this steam engine factory is already demanding more people. All the employees who went to work there were our best blacksmiths. Now we need to hire and train new blacksmiths, who in turn will work in more factories... It's an endless cycle."

  Carlos gave a light laugh, recognizing the truth in her words.

  "You're right, as always. And I'll tell you in advance that we're going to need even more people," he warned. "Soon we'll have ammunition and repeating weapons factories."

  Aqua sighed deeply, running her fingers through her white hair before answering.

  "At this rate, we'll run out of workers in the Mocambo. We already had to take two thousand men from other mocambos to work on the roads, and now you want more..."

  "You talk as if it were difficult to get workers," Carlos interrupted gently. "But the truth is, it's quite easy. Everyone wants to work here, earn a good salary, and buy our products. The other mocambos are practically sending us their people."

  Aqua nodded in agreement, but her face still showed worry.

  "You're right about that. The real difficulty is getting qualified workers here at the town hall... People who know how to read, write, do math..."

  Carlos smiled, this time with genuine enthusiasm.

  "That's what the school is for! Quixotina told me that some adults are taking books home and studying on their own. Guaíra Mirim, for example, is doing extraordinarily well. Soon he could be our Minister of Civil Construction, along with other outstanding students. This ministry will handle all the costs and salaries of the sector, and you will have much less work."

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  "You really have an answer for everything, don't you?" said Aqua, shaking her head with an expression somewhere between admiration and weariness. "But know that not everyone is as competent as the Minister of Labor or as passionate about their work as Quixotina."

  Carlos pointed at her with a gratified smile.

  "And that's exactly why you are my right hand here at the town hall. You need to identify who works well and who doesn't, and pass that information on to me so I can decide who stays and who leaves."

  Aqua shook her head again, but this time with a resigned smile.

  "In the end, it always falls to me..." she said, standing up. "You know I'm already old enough to take that retirement you invented, right? Imagine if I decided to leave... What would you do without me? You'd better enjoy it while I'm here to let you drink your tea in peace."

  After saying that, she left the office, leaving behind the faint scent of shampoo.

  Alone, Carlos began to organize his books and papers, his mind already working on the next steps. He picked up a pen and began to scribble on a sheet of paper.

  "Let's see..." he murmured to himself. "After finishing the weapons and ammunition factories, I can adapt steam engines to draw water from wells. The pipes could be made of concrete sealed with rubber... And in houses, perhaps use ceramic coated with rubber..."

  His eyes scanned the scribbles on the paper as new ideas emerged.

  "Speaking of which," he continued, his pen moving rapidly, "I can use a steam engine to produce paper and flour, just like in a sugar mill..."

  A smile of satisfaction appeared on his face as he drew and studied the schematics.

  "We can export sugar at below-market prices, thanks to the steam engines and Tássi's powers. The same goes for flour and paper..." his expression became more serious. "Which means more money, although steel is already giving us such large profits that this is almost no longer a problem. We have to save a good portion for internal use, especially with the possibility of losing our supply, after all, it's Portugal that's supplying us, good thing information travels slowly in this world..."

  He paused, looking at the pile of books on his desk.

  If we had an iron mine nearby... he sighed. That's precisely why I put Silvestre to work mapping the region. I need to understand exactly where we are. I have a book that talks about the natural riches of Brazil, and most importantly: it has maps showing the location of the mines...

  His voice became more thoughtful.

  Although... there were no magical gem mines in Brazil in my world, so maybe the common ore mines don't coincide either. But it doesn't hurt to try. The future of the quilombo depends on iron for the production of weapons, ammunition, and machines.

  He picked up the book of maps, opening it to the page showing the Brazilian Northeast.

  "Speaking of maps," he grumbled, tracing the outlines with his finger, "I hope it doesn't take them long to get me an updated map of Brazil. A map of just our region won't help if I'm not sure exactly where we are in the country. I know we must be in the Northeast, but where in the Northeast..."

  While lost in his maps and machine schematics, a hesitant sound broke the silence of the office. Tap, tap, tap. Knocks so light they almost sounded like a mouse scratching the wood.

  Carlos raised his head, pushing the books aside.

  "Come in!"

  The door opened slowly, creaking a little. There stood Silvestre, but not the lively boy Carlos might have expected to see. The boy seemed to have shrunk. His shoulders were hunched forward, and he kept his head low, his eyes fixed on the floor as if studying the wood grain. He held a piece of paper with both hands, but his fingers were white from gripping it so hard, and the sheet showed marks of sweat and dirt on the edges. The smell of earth and undergrowth he brought with him filled the air.

  "Chief Carlos..." his voice was a thread, hoarse and restrained. He swallowed dryly and tried again, forcing a bit more volume. "I... I completed part of the mission. I brought the map with the results of what I've done so far."

  He extended the paper not with pride, but with the tense solemnity of someone handing over a confession. Carlos took the document, feeling its rough, damp texture under his fingers.

  What he held was a jumble of shaky lines and ink smudges. There were shapes that resembled trees, drawn with a mix of effort and lack of skill, a river represented by two parallel lines that met improbably, and the boundaries of the Mocambo were a fence drawn with childish zigzags.

  My God... Carlos thought, his heart sinking not just because of the map's quality, but for what it represented. But then again, was I expecting too much from a child?

  He forced a kind smile, the softest he could manage.

  "Thank you, Silvestre. You... you tried very hard. I can tell you know every nook and cranny around here." His voice was deliberately calm.

  The boy looked up for the first time. His eyes were wide with a deep anxiety.

  "I... I did my best, Chief. I swear. I spent three days flying all over the place, noting everything down. I didn't want to disappoint you."

  The boy's trembling voice was a blow to Carlos's chest. He crouched down, coming to the boy's eye level.

  "You haven't disappointed me, Silvestre. The mission was difficult, I know."

  The relief on the boy's face was momentary, followed by a new wave of worry. He bit his lower lip.

  "It's just... it's just that my sister, Silvana... she has a cough. And the good tea for that is expensive... and I thought that if I did a good job..." He didn't finish the sentence, his eyes pleading for understanding.

  The penny dropped for Carlos. This wasn't just an employee's fear of failing his boss. It was the dread of a provider, however small, of not being able to care for the only family he had left. The weight of the responsibility he himself had placed on those fragile shoulders suddenly seemed unbearable.

  "Silvestre," Carlos said, his voice deeper and more serious. "Lúcia will get whatever tea she needs. That, I guarantee. You don't need to worry about that. Just tell the matron at the orphanage. Besides, if she gets worse, she can go to the hospital and receive free treatment."

  The boy seemed to want to believe it, but a distrust born of old experience still lingered in his gaze.

  Carlos decided to change tactics. He took the map and pointed to one of the smudges.

  "Look here. This line is the river, right? Did you mark where the water is deeper?"

  Silvestre nodded, a little more confident.

  "Yeah, Chief. It's near the big rock. I marked it, but... the ink ran."

  "I see. For our work, I need things that can't be easily put on paper." Carlos lowered his voice to a conspiratorial tone. "I need you to be my eyes out there. Pay attention to how long it takes to get from one place to another. If the ground is firm or soft. And most importantly..." he made a dramatic pause, "if you find stones that look different from the others, of strange colors or heavier, bring me a small piece. Those stones are more valuable to the Mocambo than a perfect map. They can give us the iron to protect everyone. To protect Silvana."

  The boy's eyes ignited with a new purpose. The abstract and intimidating mission of "making a map" had transformed into something tangible, important, and, above all, linked to his greatest motivation: his sister.

  "Different stones..." he repeated, assimilating the information. "To protect Silvana. Yes, Chief. I will find them. I will bring the best ones! I swear!"

  This time, there was no fear in his voice, only a fierce determination. He took a step back, gave a quick nod, and left the office with a contained energy, very different from the hesitation with which he had entered.

  Carlos stared at the closed door, his heart heavy. He stored the map in the drawer not as a failure, but as a reminder. A reminder that behind every pair of hands working for the Quilombo, there was a story, a fear, a reason to fight. And he had just reminded a frightened boy what his reason was.

  His gaze wandered over the desk until it landed, almost by chance, on the cellphone he kept in a special drawer. The device was dead, its dark screen reflecting the emptiness of his current options. A bitter smile appeared on his lips.

  It would be so easy if I could just take aerial photos... A pity that since I arrived in this world, this thing is nothing more than a sophisticated paperweight. He picked up the device, feeling its familiar weight in his palm. He still felt relief at having recovered it from the Old Man of the Mill's belongings, but what good was it?

  However, a new thought began to germinate in his mind, an idea that mixed the logic of his world with the possibilities of this one. Wait a minute... If in this world there is magic that controls wind, fire, even iron..., his fingers drummed on the table, couldn't there be a Lightning Gem? Or... an Electricity Gem? The simple concept made his eyes light up with a spark of renewed hope. It was a shot in the dark, but it was a possibility. And currently, it was the only one he had.