The air in the Holy City of Ascoli, nestled in the Apennines, smelled of pine trees and sanctity. Elias, however, was far from feeling blessed. He rubbed the back of his neck, tired, as he disembarked from his modest caravel, The Sea Maiden, at the city's bustling river port.

  By all the saints, that Francisco is going to be the end of what little sanity I have left, he grumbled mentally, adjusting his coat against the cool mountain breeze. First it was the iron, and now... now it's this. 'Just a little yellow powder, Elias. It's for a noble cause!' He talks as if I'm his mere errand boy.

  His current mission was absurd. Francisco, with his convincing smooth-talk, had ordered a considerable quantity of sulfur. "For the charitable works of Popess Pau," he had said, winking one eye. "You know, the saint of healing miracles. They say this powder is a crucial ingredient for her new ointments and remedies."

  Elias walked through the stone streets, passing pilgrims with their wide-brimmed hats and merchants selling dubious relics. His first stop was a warehouse near the port, a dark, dusty pce that smelled of spices and old wood.

  The owner, a burly man named Vittorio, greeted him with a nod."Elias! Back so soon? Did the goods sell well?"

  "They did, Vittorio, they did," replied Elias, forcing a smile. "But today I'm after something... different."

  "Different?" The man arched a thick eyebrow. "Don't tell me you've gotten into the business of holy relics..."

  "Nothing like that," Elias interrupted, lowering his voice. "I need sulfur. Pure."

  Vittorio took a step back, his expression becoming genuinely perplexed."Sulfur?" He made a face. "That yellow stuff that smells like rotten eggs? For heaven's sake, what for? Not even the most desperate alchemists use that! It's easier to get a fire-spark gem than to deal with that stench."

  Elias kept his composure. In a world where combat was settled with fire and ice gems, no one would suspect the truth."It's for Popess Pau, of Holy Mary," he expined, adopting a solemn tone. "You must have heard of her healing miracles. They say she's discovered a purifying property in sulfur for her new medicines."

  Vittorio scratched his chin, considering."The healing saint? I've heard of her... they say she recover an old man leg in one afternoon." His eyes narrowed. "But sulfur? I've never heard of medicine made with that useless stuff."

  "The ways of the Lord are mysterious, my friend," said Elias, his voice full of a piety he did not feel. "Who am I to question a saint's methods? She needs it, and I have been tasked with supplying it."

  Vittorio looked at Elias, still skeptical, but for different reasons now."Sulfur is plentiful in the volcanic vents near Naples," he finally said, shaking his head. "The peasants even compin about the smell. But no one bothers to collect it." He lowered his voice. "Perhaps you'll have better luck with the monks of the Monastery of Saint Benedict. They collect all sorts of strange minerals for their studies. If anyone in the region has sulfur stored away, it's them."

  Elias sighed internally. Monks. Always more complicated. They would charge a saintly price for something they considered useless, just on principle."Thanks for the tip, Vittorio," he said, giving a bow of farewell. "I'll follow your advice."

  Stepping out into the daylight, Elias looked towards the monastery towers in the distance, atop a hill. Francisco, you damned... I'll pay next to nothing for this useless powder, but you're going to hear me compin for a whole week.

  He began to climb the hill, his mind already calcuting how to convince the monks to sell something they themselves didn't value. In a world of magic and gleaming gems, who would value a simple, stinky yellow powder? Only a very clever man – or a very strange saint. And Elias was certain that the people from the Quilombo were no saints.

  The climb to the monastery was long and steep, and Elias felt his legs burning with the effort. "One more thing to bme Francisco for," he thought, panting. The massive wooden gates of the Monastery of Saint Benedict stood open, leading to a silent courtyard where the only sound was Gregorian chanting.

  He was received by a y brother, who led him to Brother Benedito, the keeper of the curiosity cabinet. The monk was an elderly man with a white beard and curious eyes behind iron-rimmed gsses.

  "Peace be with you, my son," said the monk. "The Gate Brother told me you seek an unusual mineral.""And with you as well, Brother Benedito," said Elias, bowing. "Yes. I am in need of sulfur."

  Brother Benedito's expression became intrigued."Sulfur?" he repeated, moving to a shelf full of gss jars. "One of the most interesting elements! Associated with fire and purification." He picked up a jar containing a bright yellow powder. "We rarely receive requests for it. May I ask its application?"

  Elias swallowed dryly. He decided on a half-truth."The order is for Popess Pau, of Holy Mary. She is conducting charitable works and healing experiments. They say she has found a purifying property in sulfur."

  Brother Benedito nodded slowly, a wise smile on his lips."The Popess of miracles. Yes, we have heard of her." He shook the jar. "It makes sense. Sulfur burns impurities, in alchemical symbolism. Using it to purify the body... a bold approach."

  He pced the jar on the table."We have a good quantity in our celrs. Collected from an active fumarole years ago." His bony finger tapped on the table. "But, you see, my son. Although the material is considered useless by many, the knowledge of its potential use... that has value."

  Elias understood. The monk wasn't selling sulfur; he was selling silence."I understand perfectly, Brother," said Elias, pulling out a heavy bag of coins. "The Church in Santa Maria is willing to pay generously for this... contribution. And, of course, for the discretion."

  Brother Benedito didn't even look at the bag."Charity is one of the noblest virtues. We are happy to contribute." He lifted the jar. "How many kilos does the charitable work require?"

  "Actually, Brother Benedito," Elias leaned forward, lowering his voice, "the Popess foresees that her... treatments... will be continuous. I am not looking for a single shipment, but for a stable supply. A reliable source."

  The monk fell silent for a long moment, his eyes analyzing Elias. The air in the study grew heavier."Continuous?" he finally whispered. "That is... quite specific."

  "Illness takes no holidays, Brother Benedito. And charity even less so," Elias retorted, maintaining a firm gaze.

  The monk stood up and went to a window, looking out at the monastery gardens."There is a pce... a fumarole in the valleys near Naples. The air is bad, and the earth is yellow. The local peasants avoid it. They say it's a cursed pce, where the devil's breath blows from the earth." He turned to Elias. "To us, it is merely a volcanic fissure, rich in elemental sulfur. The monks who live there in a hermitage... collect the mineral as part of their penance."

  Elias felt a chill down his spine. The monk wasn't just offering sulfur; he was offering access to a secret."And this hermitage... would they be willing to a... regur donation? In exchange for alms for the order?"

  "Alms are always welcome," Brother Benedito agreed, his smile returning. "And the abbot of the hermitage is an old friend. He sees the collection of sulfur as endless work. Knowing it serves such a noble cause... would give new purpose to his efforts. I can arrange for barrels to be sent to a discreet port every three moons. For a price, of course, that reflects the logistics... and the discretion involved."

  The price Brother Benedito mentioned next made Elias tremble inside, as if he'd been punched in the gut. The value was not just high, it was exorbitant.

  "Holy God," he thought, feeling his legs go weak. "Francisco is going to have a fit when he sees this bill. And I, poor devil, will be the messenger bearing the news."

  For a moment, he almost questioned the monk. He almost said: "Brother, this is robbery!" But he swallowed hard. The truth was that he himself didn't understand why Francisco insisted on such rge quantities of that yellow, stinking powder. The fat merchant had been vague, speaking only of "the Quilombo's needs" and "special projects."

  "Brother Benedito," he began, trying to disguise the tightness in his chest, "it's... a considerable sum for a mineral that, with all due respect, nobody wants."

  The senior monk stared at Elias over his iron gsses."The value, my son, lies not in the mineral, but in the service," he expined, with the patience of someone who had given this expnation many times. "Collecting sulfur is not like harvesting grapes. It is dangerous work, in fumaroles where the air burns the lungs. And sending it discreetly... well, discretion always has its price."

  Meanwhile, thousands of leagues away, in the Armadillo Mocambo, Carlos was sweating over his notebooks. He understood that price very well - in fact, he would have paid even more if he had known. His current process for obtaining sulfur was a nightmare: heating pyrite in makeshift furnaces, a slow and dangerous method that barely produced enough for the bck powder that fed his few muskets.

  And his pns went much further. The notes on his pages spoke of smokeless powder - a technological leap that would require tons of pure sulfur. While Elias saw only a yellow powder, Carlos saw the power to change the bance of forces in the colony.

  "I understand," said Elias, finally, exhaling slowly. The smell of beeswax in the study seemed ironically pure compared to the stench of the sulfur he would buy. He quickly corrected himself: "The Holy Popess... has her charitable projects." He picked up the bag of coins, its weight now seeming insignificant compared to the risk he was taking. Quilombo... I almost said Quilombo, you idiot! he thought, feeling a cold sweat on the back of his neck. "Very well, Brother Benedito. I consider the deal closed."

  The monk nodded gravely, seemingly not noticing the near slip."May the charitable projects of Her Holiness be blessed. The first barrels will be on your ship by dawn."

  "Charitable projects... yes, of course," thought Elias, already imagining the difficult conversation he would have with Francisco. "Because if this 'charitable project' isn't worth it, it's my head that will roll."

  "Deal," Elias said, the word coming out more as a sigh of resignation than triumph. He felt the bitter taste of the expense in his mouth, but forced himself to add: "And... if in the future we need to increase production, we will pay even more, of course."

  Brother Benedito inclined his head, a gleam of satisfaction in his eyes as his thin, bony hands caressed the bag of coins on the table.

  "Charity, my son, is a river that must always flow," replied the monk, his voice soft as silk, but with an underlying firmness. "And we, humble servants, are here to ensure its bed never runs dry. Rest assured... discretion is part of our devotion."

  The silence that followed was broken only by the clinking of coins as the monk stored the bag in a massive wooden drawer. The sound echoed in the austere room like a final period on the negotiation.

  An hour ter, Elias left the monastery with the promise of three initial barrels and an agreement for continuous supply. He had drained a significant portion of Francisco's capital, but the transaction was done.

  As he descended the hill, feeling much lighter, he looked at the sky. "Francisco is going to kill me when he sees the cost," he thought. "But if 'Chief' Carlos needs this continuously for whatever it is... well, then let them pay the price for their secret advantage."

  Now, he only needed to convince Francisco that it would be worth it. And, considering the profits from the textiles, he had his arguments.