The shed, hastily built by Tassi to host the meeting with the Popess, exuded a mixed aroma of packed earth, fresh wood, and the sweet scent of chocolate darkening on a silver tray. Light gems, activated by Quixotina's powers, studded the wattle-and-daub walls, casting a constant white glow. In the center, a long jacaranda wood table, polished to a shine, reflected the gem's light. It was flanked by chairs with seats cushioned in dark green velvet. Under the table, in thin crystal cups, ice creams sweated slightly in the warm air, their surfaces beginning to gleam with condensation. Despite the seriousness of the meeting, Carlos had insisted on providing an experience that would be, above all, beneficial for the illustrious guest.

  Inside the room, the air was thick with a silent tension that seemed to congeal the white light. On one side of the table were Carlos, in his practical work clothes, Specter in his usual vigilant shadow posture, and Ganga Zala, whose traditional garments contrasted with the European furniture. On the other side were Popess Paula, her dark blue eyes resting on everyone like deep lakes, and Francisco, her companion, whose posture was one of vigilant boredom, fingers drumming lightly on the velvet arm of his chair. Guards from both factions remained motionless in the background, their weapons glinting in the light of the gems.

  Ganga Zala broke the ice, his wide, calculated smile lighting up his face.

  "It's a pleasure to finally meet you in person, Your Holiness. Last time, circumstances did not permit it."

  The Popess, her face partially hidden by a white silk veil that seemed to float with her breath, returned the smile, a subtle and controlled movement of her lips. Her eyes, however, remained inscrutable.

  "The pleasure is mine, Ganga Zala." She then shifted her gaze to Carlos, her voice softening a degree, almost musical. "It's good to see you again, Carlos."

  Carlos, vividly remembering how he had pressured Ganga last time, limited himself to a short, respectful nod. Better to let Zala lead the dance... at least for now. I don't need more friction.

  Seeing that he wouldn't get more from Carlos, Ganga Zala continued, his fingers drumming lightly on the polished wood.

  "I was surprised to learn the Governor already suspects our... connection. I imagine Your Holiness has come to us with a solution in mind."

  Behind the veil, Paula's eyes sparkled for an instant. Damn it. I didn't know that! I came here precisely to ask for help regarding the church headquarters, not with a ready-made answer! She shot a quick glance at Carlos, hoping for a lifeline, but he remained impassive as a statue. Why isn't he saying anything? I thought he was the most competent one here!

  Only Francisco, at her side, perceived the Popess's inner turmoil. Hiding a smile of satisfaction, he picked up the brown-colored ice cream cup in front of him and took a spoonful into his mouth, savoring the creamy texture and intense cocoa flavor that dissolved on his tongue. The sweet treat melted, an icy and delicious contrast to the room's hot, tense atmosphere.

  An awkward silence settled in, heavy and long enough for everyone to hear the distant sound of a thrush outside. Finally, Paula took a deep breath, the fabric of her veil fluttering slightly.

  "It is clear," she began, trying to keep her voice serene, "that we can no longer hide our alliance. And it's not just the Governor investigating our connections; the Church itself will discover our ties. With the arrival of envoys from the headquarters to... supervise my activities, my freedom of action will be drastically reduced." She paused, choosing her words with the care of someone walking on eggshells. "Under this new scrutiny, I cannot, in good conscience, claim to have close ties to a Quilombo... especially one that still openly practices pagan customs."

  Ganga Zala placed his hand on his chin, pondering. His eyes scanned the faces around him before returning to the Popess.

  "Are you suggesting, then, that we abandon our beliefs and convert to Christianity?"

  The Popess nodded, feeling the bitter taste of the suggestion in her own mouth, as if she had chewed a lemon peel.

  "God is merciful and will forgive your sins, welcoming you willingly. You, as the leader, could set the example: be baptized and, naturally, abandon practices such as polygamy." She spoke with perceptible difficulty, her eyes fixed on Ganga, trying to gauge the spark of fury she expected to see.

  To everyone's surprise, Zala did not explode. He remained calm, his expression as inscrutable as the surface of a night lake.

  "I understand the Church's position. And I accept the condition..." He made a dramatic pause, letting the words hang in the air. "...but with a counteroffer." His eyes met hers with intensity. "That Your Holiness acts as a mediator in a peace treaty between me and the Governor."

  The proposal hit Paula like a punch to the gut. Her body stiffened for a second, her fingers clenching on her lap. They are not the savages I imagined. Antonio already told me they just want to live in peace, but I still found it hard to believe after seeing the state the combatants returned in... It seems I misjudged them, and with prejudice. A genuine, albeit cautious, smile appeared on her lips, slightly pushing aside the veil.

  "I... will see what I can do. But do not expect very favorable terms from the Governor's side." She then raised her head slightly, reassuming her official posture, the mask of religious authority taking its place once more. "Furthermore, I would also like to make a request."

  Her gaze, now sharp as a dagger, turned to Carlos.

  "I hope nothing about our... information agreement... is mentioned. I have a reputation to uphold."

  Carlos finally smiled, a more relaxed gesture that reached his eyes.

  "You can rest easy, Your Holiness. Secrecy is key."

  An almost imperceptible sigh escaped Paula's lips. With her shoulders visibly more relaxed, she reached out and took a square of chocolate from the tray in front of Francisco, partly because he had already eaten some and confirmed it was safe, and partly to annoy him, since he seemed so satisfied with the situation.

  "I also bring good news," she said, breaking the sweet between her fingers. The dry snap echoed in the room, and the rich aroma of cocoa flooded the air around her. "It won't be long before the first shipments of raw ore arrive for you. I see, however, that you didn't want to wait and have already mastered steel production. Your goods are selling like water in the Holy City, and soon they will spread to all the others." She made a dramatic pause, and the sound of her chewing the chocolate seemed abnormally loud. "However, now that the true source of the steel will become public... I fear we may face... complications in the future, after all, it will be the Portuguese Crown supplying these ores from the captaincies further south."

  Just another problem for the pile... But let's leave that for later, Carlos thought, as he picked up a small stack of documents from a folder at his side and gestured to one of the guards, who delivered them to the Popess.

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  "I am very grateful for this. Our industry will take an unprecedented technological leap. And I know none of this is free." He waited for her to take the papers, the sound of paper passing from hand to hand being the only noise in the room. "The documents detail antibiotics."

  Paula, her eyes shining with excitement like the gems on the walls, began to leaf through the pages, her eager fingers touching the drawings and annotations like a devotee touching a reliquary.

  "I'll explain briefly," Carlos continued, leaning forward. "An antibiotic is a substance that fights infections caused by bacteria. Those drawings show the fungus Penicillium chrysogenum. It produces penicillin, which is extremely powerful. My help ends there: identifying the right fungus and making it produce penicillin on a large scale... that's up to you." He paused, thoughtful, rubbing his chin. "Although... perhaps the Gem of Alteration could be used to modify the fungus, force it to produce more."

  "I am immensely grateful, Carlos," Paula whispered, almost breathless, her mind already wandering through laboratories and possibilities only she could see.

  It was then that she noticed there were more pages at the end, with diagrams of human bodies and strange techniques. Carlos, noticing her confusion, explained.

  "I heard that Francisco recovered the firearms with Your Holiness, and I would like to have more of them. This is an advance payment for them."

  Paula devoured the new information, her excitement overflowing. So it is possible to revive the dead! This isn't technology, it's a divine miracle!

  "This... 'cardiac massage'... is more than sufficient payment for those weapons," she declared, trying to contain the tremor in her voice. "After all, they were just gathering dust in the cathedral." Her tone then turned serious, and her gaze swept the room, hovering over every face. "I must stress: nothing discussed here leaves these four walls."

  Ganga Zala, seeing he could take the reins of the conversation again, inclined his head in assent, his gold earrings swaying slightly.

  "Do not worry, Your Holiness. Secrecy is a coin of universal value here."

  "I am grateful, Ganga," she replied, before turning her inquisitive attention back to Carlos, her scientific interest overcoming diplomatic prudence. "Since everything here will be confidential... I have some questions I believe only you can answer. For example... do souls reside in the physical world or only in the spiritual one?"

  The question echoed in the room, catching Carlos completely off guard. He blinked, searching for an answer in a world that had no place for such a concept.

  "In my world..." he began, hesitantly, "...we were never able to detect or prove the existence of a soul. That's the most I can tell you."

  Disappointment was visible on Paula's face. She fell silent for a moment, her fingers tracing the contours of a gem on her necklace as if seeking comfort in its solidity.

  "I see..." she murmured, before raising her eyes, filled with a strange, obsessive light. "Recently, using the Gem of Alteration, I have been conducting experiments. I cut parts off of mice and reconstructed their bodies, just as starfish are able to regenerate. The rebuilt body is alive... it breathes, its heart beats... but it doesn't move. It seems... empty. Soulless. However, with microorganisms, this problem does not occur. Could you tell me the cause?"

  The revelation caused a stir in the room. Specter crossed his arms, tensing the muscles visible even beneath his garments. Ganga Zala's eyes widened, impressed by the coldness of the practice.

  What kind of woman is this? What kind of heinous experiments is she conducting? Carlos thought, feeling a chill run down his spine. She's a mad scientist... but, thinking about it, I think I know what the problem might be.

  "I believe..." Carlos said slowly, choosing each word carefully, "...that the secret lies not just in the body, but in the mind. All our memories, knowledge, what makes us who we are... all of that is stored in the brain, in a vast network of neural connections." He gestured, interlacing his fingers to demonstrate. "Cloning the body is useless if the mind, the consciousness, is not also replicated."

  Paula's eyes shone with overwhelming understanding. It was as if a door had opened in a wall she didn't even know existed.

  "And in your world..." she asked, her voice a thread of excitement, " have they ever managed to 'clone' a person?"

  The conversation had completely transcended the colonial context, and the others present looked at the two as if they were speaking in an arcane language. Ganga Zala and Specter exchanged confused glances. But Carlos and Paula were in their own world now.

  "They have cloned animals. A sheep, for example." Carlos explained, turning more towards her. "They took the DNA from one and made an identical copy be born." He emphasized the next words, tapping his index finger on the table. "But it's a physical copy only. The memories, the personality... that isn't cloned. At least not as far as I know." He looked at Paula with newfound respect. "By the way, I think your magical 'cloning' is, in many ways, far more advanced than anything we've ever done."

  A shadow of disappointment crossed Paula's face, but it was quickly replaced by a glow of pure ambition. This means I am a pioneer! In both worlds! Until now, I've only replicated Carlos's knowledge... but this... this is mine. I will create my own legacy!

  "Carlos," she said, her voice firm and decided, projecting across the room, "if you have any information, any fragment about how the brain works, I demand you pass it to me. This will be included in our monthly agreement. Divine knowledge in exchange for commerce."

  Carlos felt immense relief. He was, indeed, running out of "divine knowledge" to bargain with.

  The Popess was about to change the subject, but decided to ask instead, her curiosity stronger:

  "And what about microorganisms? Why does cloning them work, but not that of complex animals?"

  Carlos thought for a moment, his eyes lost in the white glare of a gem on the wall. Meanwhile, the other people in the room remained with confused looks. Ganga Zala took a sip of water, the sound of the liquid being swallowed breaking the silence. Specter adjusted his position, the chair wood creaking slightly.

  "The issue is the complexity of the programming," Carlos replied, finding the right analogy. "A microorganism is like a self-sufficient instrument. All its 'know-how'—how to obtain energy, how to divide—is imbued directly in its code, in its DNA. It's a complete and functional life in a single package."

  He paused, raising two fingers. "Now, a complex animal... well, that one has two problems. First, its DNA doesn't just carry instructions for being, but for becoming. They are instructions for building entire systems—nerves, muscles, a brain—from a single cell. And second, and more crucial to your problem..."

  Carlos leaned forward, his tone becoming more grave. "...the mind is not written in the DNA. It emerges from the neural connections, from experiences, from memories. You can use magic to read the body's blueprint in the DNA and reconstruct it perfectly. But what inhabits that body, the consciousness... that is a completely different story."

  Francisco, who had remained silent observing the exchange, couldn't avoid an acidic thought as he stirred what remained of his ice cream. If I had known the conversation would reach such... profane ramblings, I would have made up an excuse to stay at the cathedral. I only came to ride in her comfortable carriage and to report the finding of the sulfur source...

  Seeing that the conversation between the two had reached a natural pause, Francisco cleared his throat softly, the dry sound calling everyone's attention to him. The moment to interrupt that spectacle of heresy and ambition had arrived.