The afternoon sun beat down hard on the packed earth of the quilombo, heating the air and filling it with the dry smell of dust and the distant scent of the forest. Carlos stood on a crude platform erected right in front of the new town hall. His heart pounded in his chest, not from the heat, but because of the crowd of faces before him.

  The town hall rose imposingly, like a dream made reality. Its smooth cement walls, a light and uniform gray, reflected the sunlight, creating a stark contrast with the surrounding mud and wood houses. The characteristic smell of lime and cement still hung in the air.

  At least the cement ensured a solid, weatherproof structure, he thought, observing the austere facade. Even without architectural knowledge, we managed to create something that conveys solidity and permanence.

  Gathered before the platform were all the masons of the mocambo—the veterans who had sweated to raise the town hall, those who opened roads with simple tools, and the novices, their eyes still full of uncertainty. Alongside them, the future ministers and staff who would give life to this place watched expectantly.

  Carlos took a deep breath, tasting the dust in his mouth. His hands trembled slightly as he held his notes.

  "Friends! Brothers!" His voice was a bit hoarse at first but gained strength. "This building you helped raise is not just cement and labor. It is a symbol! A symbol that we, children of this land, are capable of building our own future with our own hands. Here, we will no longer be managed by the will of others. Here, our laws will be born, our progress will be planned, and our voice will have a place to echo! This cement town hall is the materialization of our freedom!"

  The speech flowed, and he saw in the people's eyes no longer resignation, but a spark of hope. By the end of the main part, his hands were steadier. He picked up the last sheet.

  "During the months of construction, I observed each one of you. I saw sweat, dedication, and, above all, potential. Therefore, I am promoting some of our most valuable workers, with a salary increase of one thousand réis!"

  A murmur of excitement ran through the crowd. Carlos felt a knot of anxiety in his stomach unravel.

  With a larger and more experienced team, I can finally expand the projects. The quilombo will grow, he thought, feeling a wave of optimism.

  "Guaíra Mirim!" he called. "You will be in charge of building the new apartments near the industrial district."

  The young indigenous man's face lit up like the morning sun, and his dark eyes shone with curiosity.

  "Apartments, chief? What are those?"

  "They are large houses, Guaíra!" Carlos explained, animated. "Tall buildings, several stories high, where many families can live near work, the market... far from the distant farms. They will be for everyone, with prices an honest worker can afford."

  I'm not here to repeat the mistakes of the past, he reflected internally. I won't create a place where having a roof is an impossible dream. Although... almost everyone here already has their own plot of land. The challenge is to improve that plot.

  "Lucas Sabá!" he continued. "You will rebuild the factories in the industrial district. I want new buildings, a strong structure!"

  Lucas nodded, serious, his face marked by experience.

  "Don't worry, chief. I'll do work that honors my ancestors."

  "Jo?o da Costa!" Carlos went on. "Your mission is to raise the shops in the city center. We need strong commerce that serves our people."

  "It will be a pleasure, Mr. Carlos!" replied Jo?o, a wide smile spreading across his face.

  "And Francisco Benguela!" The man raised his chin, attentive. "You will continue your excellent work on the roads. Soon, all the paths in the mocambo will be paved."

  As the names were called, a pang of financial worry nagged at Carlos.

  Costs are skyrocketing... When the internal roads are done, I'll have to send them to open the highway to the trading post. And for that, I'll need even more manpower. Soon, very soon, the quilombo won't have enough workers for so many plans.

  "And finally, Domingos Lopes!" he announced. "You will be the supervisor of the town hall projects. Your first challenge will be to build our first school."

  Domingos, a man with a wise expression, seemed to absorb the weight of the responsibility.

  "A school... What would that be, chief?"

  Carlos folded the last sheet and looked up at the crowd, feeling the energy emanating from it.

  "A place of learning, where everyone in the quilombo can learn to write, read, math, biology, history. And listen well! Those who excel and learn to read and write at the new school can become a minister of construction," his voice echoed with conviction. "Doubling their salary and working directly with me!"

  The reaction was immediate. The masons' eyes, which during the construction of his own house had shown doubt and apprehension, now shone with ambition and respect. Seeing that filled Carlos with a profound sense of accomplishment. He knew that seed of dignity was finally sprouting.

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  After the inauguration, the move began. A line of people transported documents, the precious "devil's books," and the money chests into the town hall, where they would be safer. The interior of the building smelled of new cement and the fresh wood of the custom-made furniture from the carpenter. There was a room for Carlos and several others, still empty, awaiting the future ministries.

  As soon as the minimal organization was done, Carlos headed out to Tassi's fields. He didn't need to get close to get the answer: a golden sea of wheat waved in the wind, filling the air with a sweet, earthy smell. His heart leaped with joy.

  Tassi was in the middle of the field, harvesting some stalks with skillful movements, a serene smile on her face.

  "Looks like it all worked out!" Carlos shouted, approaching. "You're amazing, Tassi! Now we can make bread, cakes, flour... it's a new era!"

  She stopped and turned to him, her hands full of golden ears of wheat.

  "I already told you it had all worked out. And it only took so long because you took forever to bring the seeds," she replied, a playful glint in her eye.

  Carlos rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed.

  "Hey, it's not my fault! No merchant brings wheat grains, only ready-made flour. Luckily, some stubborn Portuguese insist on trying to plant it here. Speaking of which..." He reached out, handing her a pine cone. "Your next mission."

  Tassi took the object, turning it over in her fingers with curiosity.

  "What is this?"

  "It's an araucaria seed," Carlos explained with a hopeful smile. "With it, we can make paper. That is, if you can make it grow."

  The minister was irritated by the implication. Without a word, she took the seed, buried it in the damp soil, and stepped back a few paces.

  "Just watch."

  She plunged the Growth Staff into the ground with force. Immediately, the earth trembled. A green sprout burst forth, growing at a dizzying speed. In seconds, it became a sapling, then a young tree, its trunk thickening and branches stretching towards the sky like arms. The soil vibrated under their feet, and the sound of expanding wood was like a muffled thunderclap. The araucaria didn't stop: ten, twenty, thirty, forty meters... until it reached a majestic height of fifty meters, its pointed crown scratching the blue sky.

  Tassi was panting, dizziness overwhelming her from the colossal effort. Carlos watched in awe, his mouth slightly agape.

  "Your power is truly incredible!" he exclaimed, his voice full of admiration. "And the most amazing thing is that two gems with different powers create a third magic so powerful!"

  The minister could barely hear him, focusing all her energy on remaining standing. Even so, a triumphant whisper escaped her lips.

  "I am... truly incredible."

  With the araucaria, I can make paper and sell it. And flour from the wheat, to eat and trade. All thanks to her, Carlos thought, euphoric. "You are absolutely incredible!"

  Without wasting time, the chief left and headed home, his mind already buzzing with plans.

  To make paper, I'll use the natural grinding process. I don't want to deal with acids and chemicals like in more advanced methods. Pity the result is lower quality paper, but it will serve for school books and, perhaps, future newspapers. To make the paper, I need...

  A large rotating grindstone, mounted vertically or horizontally. Could use the steam engine to turn the stone...

  A mechanism to press the wood logs against the surface of the stone. I'll need the steam engine again...

  A system of water jets to cool, remove the pulp, and prevent the wood from burning from friction. For that, I could use an adept with a water or ice gem...

  In the end, it all comes down to the steam engine. That's just for making the pulp. To form the sheets, I'll use the Fourdrinier Machine, which is simpler to build from wood, but still needs steam to operate.

  Carlos spent the entire morning scribbling schematics, drawing gears and workflow on sheets of rough paper.

  In the end, I need a steam engine for everything, he murmured, frustrated. I hope Nia can manufacture a few. It would also be good to install them in the sugar mill, the mining operation, and the textile factory... although, for now, I'll leave the factory as is. I don't want to start firing everyone.

  "I'll also use the steam engine to produce flour from wheat. But for now, we'll make flour manually. I could even try building a windmill, but it also has complex parts, and even worse, it's made of stone. Better to wait for the steam engine."

  ***

  In the Jabuticaba Quilombo, Shadow, one of Specter's men, remained invisible, observing the newcomers. It was the second time that year such a large group had arrived at the quilombo, and the last time had brought radical changes. As before, there was a woman with a warrior's posture, but unlike Tassi, she didn't seem to sense his presence.

  The group had arrived from a mill attacked by monsters, according to reports. The only direct witness was the woman herself, who had confessed to killing the mill owner during the chaos, using a fire gem.

  Invisible, he watched her every move. At that moment, everyone was working in the fields assigned to them.

  Managing to kill the mill owner on the very day of arrival is too big a coincidence, he pondered silently. But it's not impossible. Besides, even though we don't know the new Captain-Major's plans, it's unlikely he would have a white man killed just to infiltrate spies.

  Shadow was spying not only on her but on the entire group. He noticed something peculiar: the woman and two other men wore rings with small magical gems. Alone in their quarters, they manipulated them constantly.

  Suspicious... but a ring with such tiny gems is hardly a real threat.

  After observing them for a while longer, he disappeared to make his report.

  Nyran, who was playing with the ring on her finger, not only felt the unwanted presence disappear but the artifact also stopped emitting heat.

  It's amazing how this ring is superior to any magical artifact I've ever had, she thought, admiring the piece. Even though I'm not a Vision Adept, it, with the mana injected by an adept, activates on its own when a bearer of the Assassin's Gem approaches. And it even alerts me by getting warm, thanks to the Heat Gem. It's exceptional work. No magical artisan in my kingdom would be capable of such a feat.

  She stayed awake a while longer, making sure no one else was watching her. Then, she forced herself to vomit.

  Amidst the food remnants, a gem covered in runes glistened, producing a small spherical magical shield. Inside it, layers upon layers of thin paper and a piece of charcoal were perfectly preserved.

  Without wasting time, she began to write down everything she had observed. It didn't take long, as she hadn't seen anything of crucial importance yet. She knew it would be like this for a while, until she managed to join the quilombo's army and could see the so-called "explosive oranges" up close that everyone talked about. The mission was just beginning.