The sound of Francisco's deliberate cough echoed through the room, breaking the concentrated atmosphere that had settled over the meeting. All eyes turned to the merchant, who adjusted himself in his chair before speaking.

  "Carlos, I'm pleased to announce that my contacts have secured a sulfur supplier for the Quilombo," he said, a satisfied smile making his rounded cheeks rise. "However, you should know from the start that the cost will be... considerable. But there is an advantage: they can increase production over time, according to our needs."

  Carlos picked up the sheet of paper Francisco slid across the polished table. His eyes quickly scanned the numbers, and a nearly imperceptible sigh of relief escaped his lips.

  It's expensive, yes, he thought, but with the revenue from steel, we can afford it. And best of all: I'll be able to reassign the workers from mining and refining pyrite to more productive areas. His mind was already racing with possibilities: the expansion of existing industries, the long-dreamed-of start of a chemical industry for mass production of acids, essential for nitrocellulose...

  The merchant watched Carlos analyze the figures, his plump fingers drumming lightly on the table.

  "There's another thing," Francisco continued, lowering his voice to a more confidential tone. "I would like to propose that the payment for the sulfur be made directly to me. I would take care of all the transportation to the Quilombo through my employees. It would simplify the logistics considerably."

  Carlos couldn't help an internal smile. Who would have thought that merchant with his little donkey, who showed up at the mill months ago, would turn out to have such a sharp entrepreneurial mind? The Popess herself wrote to me in letters that it was he who found merchants willing to sell my products outside Brazil, using their own ships. He even founded a Chartered Trading Company dedicated specifically to our products.

  "No problem, Francisco," Carlos replied, nodding affirmatively. "I think that will indeed reduce bureaucracy. I even suggest we do the same with the ores that will arrive from southern Brazil. They will unload at the port, but the transportation here will be under your responsibility."

  Francisco's face lit up with a broad, genuine smile.

  "Excellent idea, Carlos!" he exclaimed, rubbing his hands together. "And with that, all your requests have been fulfilled: seeds, sulfur, raw ore... Is there anything else you have in mind?"

  Carlos hesitated for a moment, looking at his hands on the table before raising his eyes.

  "There is one thing..." he began, with a somewhat reluctant tone. "It's not something that will directly increase the Quilombo's productivity, at least not in the short term. It's more of... a personal desire. Coffee."

  Francisco tilted his head, confused.

  "Coffee? What would that be?"

  "It's a plant," Carlos explained, "that I believe is native to the region of Ethiopia. A dark, energizing drink is made from its roasted seeds. It must be the most difficult item to obtain on our list." He made a dramatic pause. "I am willing to pay one million réis for viable seedlings."

  "Legend has it," Carlos thought, "that a Portuguese spy seduced the governor's wife in French Guiana just to steal coffee seedlings and bring them to Brazil. The monopoly was so guarded that other European countries also had to resort to creative methods. This high price is justified. And in the future, we could export coffee - a product that would easily pay for itself."

  The mentioned value made Francisco choke on his own saliva.

  "One million réis?" he managed to say between coughs. Is this plant bearing golden fruits? But he quickly dismissed the thought. No, it doesn't bear gold... but the final product Carlos will make with it will certainly be worth its weight in gold.

  "I will... speak with my contacts," said Francisco, catching his breath. "We'll see if we can find this 'coffee'. If we do, we'll need a drawing of the plant for reference."

  Carlos nodded positively.

  "Of course. I'll provide the drawings for you later."

  Francisco smiled upon hearing this and took another decisive bite of his chocolate. "For example," he thought, "this cocoa he sells me is selling extraordinarily well. We just sent the first ships to Europe, and I'm sure it will be a success among the nobility. That Amazonian tree too... the rubber products, although not yet fully popular, are selling consistently..."

  It was then that Paula joined the conversation, her soft but firm voice filling the room.

  "And regarding your requests for magical tools," she said, "I have obtained spyglasses with the Gem of Vision of the highest quality. I have already ordered the magical artisan of the Holy City to produce more units."

  Specter, who had remained motionless and silent as a shadow until that moment, inclined slightly.

  "I am very pleased to hear that, Your Holiness," he replied, his voice deep and measured. "Your support is fundamental for the Quilombo, especially considering the recent monster attacks we have suffered... Speaking of which, I know it's not exactly your area of expertise, but..."

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  Specter carefully placed a gem the color of amber on the table. The stone seemed to capture the light from the gems in the walls, emitting a soft, unsettling glow.

  "Do you know what gem this is?" he asked. "One of the monsters that attacked the Quilombo used it, and the monster later revealed itself to be human. Initially, I considered the possibility that they were using your Gem of Alteration to transform themselves, but upon finding this gem, I discarded that hypothesis."

  The Popess leaned forward, her dark blue eyes examining the gem with intense curiosity.

  "I don't recognize it," she admitted, shaking her head slowly. "But... I heard reports from a Jesuit who was catechizing a tribe that used a magical gem with a similar description. An amber gem that allowed the bearer to transform into any creature whose blood they had consumed. The person could completely transform their body while maintaining their human consciousness, however."

  A heavy silence fell over the room. Specter waited for her to finish before continuing.

  "That would be invaluable to us," he said. "However, although we have found practitioners of this gem here in the Quilombo, none of them have been able to activate it. Moreover, in the body of the man from whom we recovered it, it was... embedded in his chest."

  Paula shook her head again, a shadow of sadness in her eyes.

  "Unfortunately, I know nothing more on the subject," she confessed. "The Jesuit abandoned the tribe after all its members were exterminated... by the current Captain-major."

  The air in the room seemed to grow heavier with the revelation. Specter, impassive as always, simply nodded.

  "I understand," he said, his voice expressionless. "That would explain why the practitioner who used this gem was a white man."

  The group continued talking for some time, discussing logistics, security, and future plans. Finally, it was decided that the Popess would stay at Carlos's Mocambo until the preparations for Ganga Zala's baptism were complete. She didn't need to do this personally - she could very well leave the task to Father Ant?nio - but a deep curiosity consumed her. She wanted to see Carlos's Mocambo with her own eyes, not just read about it in reports.

  Leaving the trading post and entering the forest, Paula walked accompanied by her guards and by Francisco, who had no particular reason to join them other than pure curiosity. Carlos led the group, pointing out aspects of the path.

  "This road we're walking on is still under construction," he explained, gesturing ahead. "Further on, we'll be able to see the workers in action."

  The Popess watched, marveling, at the smooth, gray surface beneath her feet. Even Francisco, usually more interested in numbers than construction, seemed impressed.

  "I'm sure that in the rain, a road like this doesn't turn into a mud pit," commented the merchant, tapping his foot lightly on the concrete.

  Carlos, without turning, replied:

  "Exactly. We designed these streets so that rainwater drains into the soil. Furthermore, in my Mocambo, the sidewalks are lined with trees to provide shade."

  "This is incredible, Carlos!" exclaimed Paula, genuinely enthusiastic. "With the rubber tires, the springs on the wagons, and a road like this, I'm sure travel would be much more comfortable. My back would certainly thank you." She gave a little laugh. "How wonderful it would be if the road from here to the Holy City were made of this material..."

  Carlos stopped and turned, placing his hand on his chin in a thoughtful gesture.

  "That... wouldn't be a bad idea," he admitted. "I'm sure it would greatly improve the transport of materials. But the cost... and the number of workers required..."

  The Popess did not hesitate.

  "I am willing to cover the costs," she declared, her voice firm. "On one condition: that you share the secret of producing this material and how your roads are made. I think the streets of my Holy City would look magnificent with this. Besides, I know you also use this material to build houses."

  Carlos saw no reason to refuse. Selling cement wasn't exactly a high-profit business, and a stronger alliance with the Church was always beneficial.

  "Agreed," he concurred. "But I won't let you do it all alone. When the workers finish the Road of Prosperity here, I will send a team to begin construction of the road to the Holy City."

  Francisco, whose mind was already calculating the logistical benefits and the increase in trade volume, couldn't contain his excitement.

  "I can already imagine hundreds of wagons going back and forth on this road!" he exclaimed, his eyes shining with visions of profit. "And many of them will be transporting products under my name!"

  The Popess couldn't help but roll her eyes at her companion's greedy fantasies.

  "But this will only be temporary," interjected Carlos, as the group detoured around a group of workers compacting the soil. "Because in the future, I plan for a steel road connecting our two cities."

  Paula frowned, confused.

  "Why steel?" she asked. "It seems like a waste of such a valuable material."

  Carlos smiled, but since he was in front, no one could see his expression.

  "It has to be steel to support the train that will run on it," he explained. "A train is a steam-powered machine that can transport hundreds of tons of products and people at speeds much greater than wagons."

  The eyes of both the Popess and Francisco widened upon hearing about the "train." The gleam of excitement, however, remained only in Paula's eyes. Francisco seemed skeptical.

  "Is that really possible?" questioned the merchant, doubtful.

  It was the Popess who answered, her voice filled with admiration.

  "Carlos already uses steam engines to produce steel!" she explained, animated. "Father Ant?nio told me that his steam engine can move a metal furnace the size of a house!"

  Upon hearing this, a pang of concern shot through Carlos. My God, she knows so many details about my Mocambo, he thought, alarmed. Specter assured me that his agents monitored all letters sent to the Popess, but even so... Although steel production itself doesn't need to be a state secret, it's disconcerting to know how much they know about our operation. I just hope our Portuguese 'friends' don't have such detailed information. At least the most important secrets - the exact steel alloys, the gunpowder, the firearms - are well guarded, with constant surveillance against spies.

  "Yes," confirmed Carlos, keeping his voice calm. "And tomorrow morning, I can show you the only steam engine we have in operation. At the moment, it's just one, but in the future, I plan to have them in all the industries of the Mocambo!"

  The Popess, who had removed her veil, revealing a face with fine features and bright eyes, became visibly animated.

  "How much does a machine like that cost?" she asked, her fingers almost unconsciously touching her gem necklace. "I want to buy one!"

  Carlos shook his head with an apologetic smile.

  "They are not for sale," he gently refused. "Not at the moment."

  Paula's expression became visibly disappointed. She seemed to be mentally flipping through a catalog of possible bargaining offers, but apparently found nothing that seemed suitable.

  The group continued their walk until they reached the boundaries of the Mocambo do Tatu.