Carlos positioned himself in the center of the small dirt field he had improvised, the rag ball firmly tucked under his foot. In front of him, his team of six children lined up, with Zézinho at the front, his little eyes shining with determination. On the other side, Quixotina cast a shadow over Dulcinéia and five other little ones, her arms crossed over her chest. Carlos pointed a challenging finger in her direction.

  "Prepare for defeat!"

  She stared directly into his eyes, a flash of fierce competitiveness in her gaze.

  "You're the one who's going to lose, and it's going to be ugly."

  That look made Carlos shudder inside. He quickly closed the distance between them and whispered, his warm breath close to her ear, so the children wouldn't hear:

  "Hey, calm down! It's just a game, there are kids here. The idea is for everyone to have fun, right? No activating your strength gem and kicking kids to the other side of the field!"

  The sudden closeness took her by surprise, making her ears turn slightly red. She rolled her eyes, exasperated.

  "I know that! You didn't even need to say it. I have a daughter, I know how to take care of children!"

  Carlos stepped back, relieved, and returned to his position. Giving an imaginary whistle, he signaled the start. Without a real referee, the game quickly turned into delightful chaos. Children ran in every direction, kicking the rag ball and each other with shouts of joy. Carlos, trying to coordinate his team from a distance, yelled instructions:

  "Spread out to the wing!" "Shoot!"

  But his voice was lost in the general uproar. Quixotina, on the other hand, seemed more concerned with preventing anyone from getting hurt than actually scoring goals.

  The confusion reigned until, by a stroke of luck, Dulcinéia managed to break free from the crowd with the ball at her feet. She ran, dragging a trail of pursuers behind her. Zézinho, agile as a tegu, intercepted her and easily stole the ball. A flicker of irritation crossed Quixotina's face. In a protective – or competitive – instinct, she advanced and regained possession with an ease that seemed almost unfair to the children.

  Seeing his chance, Carlos entered the scene. He approached her, applied a simple dribble that caught her off guard, and with a precise kick, sent the rag ball into the back of the net. The child goalkeeper, distracted watching an ant, didn't even see the play. Goal!

  Carlos turned to Quixotina with a satisfied smile, only to be instantly attacked by his own children, who jumped on him in a heap of laughter and celebration.

  Hehehe, he thought, stroking the sweaty heads of the little ones. It seems my strategy of conquering the mocambo through the children is working. And best of all: I'm having fun in the process.

  Quixotina, however, did not share his mood. She saw the downcast faces of the children on her team, including Dulcinéia's, and Carlos's victorious smile was the last straw. A simple, yet effective, strategy formed in her mind.

  "Listen!" she ordered her team. "Kick the ball forward! Any direction! I'll take care of Carlos!"

  The dynamics of the game changed instantly. Now, every time Carlos touched the ball, Quixotina was there. She didn't use superhuman strength, but her physical presence was imposing. She blocked his paths, closed down spaces, and used her body to legally, yet relentlessly, stop his advances. Carlos, playing fair, tried passes that, most of the time, were intercepted by the uncoordinated feet of the children themselves. He even suspected, for a brief moment, that she was using a tiny bit of magic.

  Amid the chaotic back-and-forth, Dulcinéia received a clumsy pass near the penalty area. In an act of desperation, she kicked the ball forward. The rag sphere bounced unpredictably on the uneven ground and headed towards Carlos's goal. The goalkeeper of the team, engrossed in a meticulous investigation of a leaf, didn't even notice the ball passing close to her. Goal for Quixotina's team! 1-1.

  In a spontaneous gesture of joy, Quixotina picked up Dulcinéia in her arms. The other children on the team crowded around them in an effusive celebration, as if they had won the world championship.

  The tie injected new life into the match. Carlos, now animated, tried to dribble past Quixotina, but she was a persistent shadow. He was forced to pass the ball, looking for options. It was then that he spotted Zézinho, positioned strategically near the opponent's goal, his eyes fixed on him, full of expectation. Carlos understood the message. With a precise pass, he sent the ball to the boy, who, without hesitation, lobbed it over the goalkeeper and scored. 2-1!

  The celebration was even more intense. The lead, however, was short-lived. The children – and Quixotina – were learning fast. Within minutes, they managed to tie the game, and it turned into a frantic exchange of goals. The sun was already high in the sky, marking noon, when Carlos, exhausted but happy, decided to end the match.

  "It's declared a tie! Eleven to eleven!" he announced, panting. "But since everyone played so well, everyone gets ice cream!"

  A wave of joyful cheers swept through the children. The exception was Quixotina, who simply collapsed on the ground, breathing heavily. Carlos realized then that she really hadn't used any magic. The fatigue was genuine, the result of exercise she wasn't used to without the aid of gems. Dulcinéia ran to her mother, worried.

  "That's great, Dulcinéia," whispered Quixotina, stroking her daughter's hair. "You're going to get ice cream."

  Carlos approached and extended a hand to help her up.

  "We'll all have ice cream," he corrected gently.

  She reluctantly took his hand.

  "Thank you."

  Standing, he turned to the excited crowd.

  "Who's hungry, follow me!"

  The mass of children followed Carlos in a racket. Quixotina, still catching her breath, grabbed her magic sword, which she had left leaning against a tree, and ran to not be left behind. Hunger was a powerful incentive.

  They soon arrived at a packed-earth shed, different from the others. At the entrance, two wooden stakes supported a crude sign. Quixotina read: "Aunt Vera's Restaurant."

  Inside, a large wooden table was flanked by rustic benches. Aunt Vera, a woman with a warm countenance, was organizing pots and plates on the table. A low partition separated the dining area from the kitchen, where a imposing iron stove and a table full of utensils and ingredients dominated the space. At the counter, Bentinho, the carpenter's son, kept his hand on a clay pot with an iron base; an embedded metal gem glowed softly as a mechanical noise echoed – it was Carlos's "blender." Next to him, Pedro, the soldier, operated a fan with an ice gem, cooling several small pots.

  Seeing Carlos enter, Bentinho interrupted his work.

  "I can't keep coming here to do these things! My father is already furious with all the work, and you still pull me from the workshop to make… nonsense!"

  "Me neither!" added Pedro, pointing to the ice cream pots. "I'm part of the quilombo's army now! I have to train! When your messenger said it was a new experiment, I thought it would be a super-powerful weapon, not… food!"

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  Carlos gave a mischievous smile.

  "Then why are you both drooling looking at the ice cream?"

  Immediately, the two brought their hands to their chins, searching for non-existent saliva. Realizing the trick, they turned to Carlos with irritated expressions. He just laughed, triumphant. Before they could retort, they were interrupted by Aunt Vera.

  "Calm down, calm down!" she said in an authoritative voice. "I bet everyone is starving, right? Let's serve ourselves and eat. But you have to mind your manners, hear me, Zézinho? Everyone will get their own portion, Uncle Carlos and Aunt Quixotina will serve. Anyone who misbehaves doesn't get any."

  "Zézinho, obey your grandmother," said Pedro firmly.

  The threat worked. The children calmed down, although their hungry eyes still devoured the table. Even Quixotina struggled to maintain her composure, salivation increasing with the aroma of the food.

  Carlos went to an iron basin with water and soap and washed his hands thoroughly. He turned to the group.

  "Everyone come wash your hands! Whoever washes properly gets a delicious juice!"

  Instant chaos ensued, with children crowding to get to the basin. Quixotina intervened.

  "One at a time! Otherwise, no juice for anyone!"

  Reluctantly, the children formed a more or less orderly line and washed their hands. Quixotina watched until Carlos looked at her.

  "You too, Quixotina. Everyone washes their hands before eating. Those who don't wash can get sick."

  She obeyed, more to set an example than because she understood the link between hygiene and disease. Hunger spoke louder.

  The food was simple yet comforting: rice, beans, farofa, palm hearts, and wild boar meat. The adults served the children, while Bentinho served juice for everyone.

  With the plates full, Carlos announced:

  "You can sit down! And remember: only those who clean their plates get ice cream!"

  The rush for the chairs was almost a riot. There was some pushing and shoving for a specific spot, but a single look from Quixotina was enough to restore order.

  "There's room for everyone," she said calmly. "Just go to the other side of the table."

  No sooner were they seated than the children attacked the food. Even the pickiest eaters ate everything, motivated by the promise of ice cream.

  When the little pots of ice cream were distributed, the joy was universal. The children devoured the sweet as if they hadn't eaten for days. Quixotina herself struggled to maintain her noble manners while savoring the cold delicacy.

  Pedro watched Zézinho, his son, eating happily, and saw his mother, Aunt Vera, smiling. A weight tightened in his chest. I should have helped everyone escape that cursed mill much earlier…, he thought bitterly. But I thought freedom was impossible for us… Everything I did before coming here was a mistake…

  No one noticed the shadow of guilt on his face amid the racket.

  What matters is that I acted in that decisive moment. That's why we're here. My son will have a future… I hope everyone will. That's why I'm in the army… Or I would be, if it weren't for this guy. His gaze rested on Carlos, but the irritation dissipated. I can't criticize him for long. This ice cream is too good. And seeing these children smile… it's worth anything.

  He stood up, addressing Carlos.

  "Thank you, Carlos. For taking care of my son. And for giving my mother a purpose. I still don't really understand this restaurant business, but… thank you."

  "It's simple," Carlos explained. "From Monday to Friday, we'll serve food for those who work in the gunpowder and saltpeter workshops. They're far from everything, it's a long walk home and back. No one deserves to be treated like a slave, eating cold food or going hungry. A hot lunch here increases productivity and… well, I also gain the support of the people."

  Aunt Vera joined the conversation, her face lit up.

  "You know, I've been a bit unhappy lately. It's good to be free, I'm happy my little grandson is free, but… I'm no good at weeding the fields. Luckily, Carlos assigned me to work here, near the… what's the name again?… Ah, yes, the 'industrial zone'. Since they work all day, they don't have time to go home to eat. Tassi built this place for me, Nia made the stove, and the carpenter, under the orders of our new chief, made the furniture. He even gave me this machine to make juices, which he says can do other things… the 'liquitatador'."

  Carlos laughed.

  "Liquidificador. It's a shame it needs an adept with a metal gem, and we only have one in the mocambo…" He gave a meaningful look at Bentinho.

  "Don't even think about it!" the young man protested. "My father would kill me if I abandoned the workshop!"

  "Anyway," Carlos continued, "I gave her two assistants. For now, they're enough, but soon I'll have a bunch of people working in the textile industry, and this place will be packed."

  Quixotina listened attentively, impressed. Who would have thought a 'restaurant' would be this… It's truly a thing from another world. A place where hot food is served for free to workers… Of course, here everyone works for free, the quilombo barely has money for iron, let alone to pay wages… But something tells me Carlos will change that too.

  Upon hearing Carlos's words, Pedro stood up.

  "I understand. Thank you very much… for everything. I wish you good luck with the restaurant. Now I have to get back to the army. I just don't know what I'm going to tell the Specter about today's 'experiment'…" And with a wave, he left the shed.

  As soon as the last spoonful of ice cream was devoured, the re-energized children ran off after Zézinho, who had "borrowed" Carlos's rag ball.

  Quixotina watched the scene, exhausted. Do they never get tired?, she thought. But, putting that aside, we disappeared with the children for hours and stuffed them with food. I bet the parents will be terribly worried when they come home with full bellies. The worry was clearly written on her face. Carlos noticed.

  "It's very easy to tell what you're feeling," he commented, smiling. "In that, you're very different from Tassi. So, tell me: what's worrying you?"

  She sighed.

  "People always tell me that… Well, don't you think you should have told the parents?"

  "Hahaha!" he laughed. "Do you really think I would take all these kids here and there without their consent? I'm not that stupid. I already spoke to everyone, said I would bring the children to the soft opening of Aunt Vera's Restaurant. I even wanted to make pizza for everyone, but unfortunately we don't have wheat, tomatoes, cheese… we lack basic ingredients. But we can still make a good restaurant for the workers."

  Aunt Vera couldn't contain herself.

  "But you know what?" she said with a cunning smile. "I never imagined Zézinho would obey anyone but me. It seems you have a gift with children."

  Carlos thought the same.

  "Truly, Quixotina gets along very well with the children. By the way, just as the workers will come to eat here, their children will too, since the parents will be busy. I need to find someone to look after them during the day, just to keep them from getting hurt. Seeing how well you handle them, I imagine you would be the perfect person… but, at the moment, I want you with me."

  Aunt Vera let out a laugh.

  "Ha, ha! Carlos, you are very direct!"

  It was then that he noticed Quixotina's face was completely flushed, like a red pepper. He quickly corrected himself.

  "I mean… you are an excellent bodyguard! And it's very useful to have someone with super strength around to protect me and help."

  Quixotina, still blushing, regained her composure.

  "To be honest, it took me a while to earn their respect," she confessed. "It's just that I have some books and I like to read to others, like my uncle used to do with me. I always read to Dulcinéia, but because of her differences with the other children in the quilombo, she ended up lonely. So, I started spending afternoons playing a bit and convincing some children to listen to knight stories with my daughter. Even Zézinho liked some, although at first he wouldn't sit still. Now he listens attentively and then runs around with a stick, shouting that it's a sword and hitting others… He reminds me a bit of myself when I was younger. I even wanted to teach them to read and write, but without materials it's difficult."

  "But I'm more impressed with Carlos," Aunt Vera interjected, still smiling. "With so much creativity, he'll soon win everyone over."

  "So that's why you said you couldn't be my bodyguard in the afternoon!" Carlos exclaimed, understanding. "Because you read to the children! How adorable!"

  Upon hearing the word "adorable," Quixotina turned red again.

  "Adorable, nothing!" she protested, crossing her arms. "I'm a knight! I'm just doing for Dulcinéia what my uncle did for me. I… I loved the stories he told."

  Mentioning her uncle was enough for a sudden tightness to grip her heart. I miss him so much, she thought, her gaze drifting away for a moment. I wonder how he is?