The group of former slaves followed Specter deeper into the forest as the sun began to set, staining the sky orange and purple. The humid evening air carried the smell of damp earth and the sweet perfume of some night-blooming flowers. The sounds of the forest – the chirping of insects, the distant call of a thrush – created a soundtrack for their journey. The people talked in animated, yet anxious, voices, interspersed with hushed laughter, anticipating the beginning of their new lives as quilombolas. After a not-too-long walk, they emerged from the dense vegetation and began to see open fields and organized crops. A little further on, the first houses of wattle and daub with thatched roofs appeared, simple, but they looked solid and welcoming.

  As they walked, Tassi noticed that, besides Specter, other warriors were observing the group from a distance, their imposing silhouettes outlined against the vegetation. It's a good sign, she thought. Caution and precaution are never too much in times like these.

  The further they advanced, the more houses appeared, clustering closer and closer together until they reached the center of the mocambo. The atmosphere was alive: the smell of burning firewood mixed with the aroma of cooked food; people chatted in groups around campfires; the rhythmic sound of capoeira echoed from one corner, accompanied by singing; children ran and played, their laughter filling the air. Upon spotting the group of newcomers, some quilombolas smiled and waved, others showed indifference, and a few seemed to display visible apprehension.

  "It seems like a very small quilombo," Carlos pondered. "Or maybe it's just a mocambo. If I'm not mistaken, the largest quilombo that ever existed, the Quilombo dos Palmares, housed up to twenty thousand people. A considerable amount for the time. But it wasn't a single city; it was a collection of several smaller communities, the mocambos, each with its own two or three thousand people. I hope it works the same way here, because there's no way to defend ourselves with so few people."

  While lost in his thoughts, the group arrived at a wattle and daub house noticeably larger than the others. Specter turned to everyone and, in a deep voice that commanded respect, announced:

  "Unfortunately, we don't have enough houses for everyone immediately. But don't worry, you can sleep in our festivities hall, which is empty at the moment. That's all for today. I imagine you are all exhausted. Rest well, for tomorrow someone will come to explain how your new life will be. I am not the leader of this mocambo, so you won't see me often. I wish you all good luck."

  Seeing Specter walk away, many began to enter the house to rest. Before entering, Tassi noticed that the guards who had accompanied him had stayed behind, discreetly watching the new group. "It's expected," she reflected. "They must fear there are spies among us."

  Carlos, for his part, felt the weariness in his bones, but it was the hunger that spoke loudest. They had managed to take a good amount of food from the plantation owner's house, and he could finally say goodbye to the monotonous diet of beans and farofa. Aunt Vera, also tired of always preparing the same thing, promptly set about organizing a proper meal for everyone: a well-seasoned feijoada with fluffy rice, pork, a green salad, and even a cake she had managed to make in the plantation owner's kitchen. To make the cake go around, however, each person received a very thin slice, almost transparent. Pedro, meanwhile, had brought another treasure: cacha?a. He had taken all the bottles he found and had already started enjoying them.

  Everyone ate their fill, and, although they slept on the hard floor, the exhaustion and hope for the next day made them fall asleep easily.

  ***

  After leaving the new members, Specter went to speak with Aqua, the leader of the Armadillo Mocambo, where the newcomers had settled.

  "Good evening, Lady Aqua. Several people arrived from the forest, about forty. They escaped from an engenho. Since your mocambo was the closest and had a place to shelter them temporarily, I decided to leave them here. Of course, I left guards to keep an eye on them."

  Aqua's eyes widened in surprise.

  "Forty people? That's a lot of people! Are they all from the same place?"

  Specter maintained his impassive posture.

  "I didn't ask too many questions, as everyone seemed exhausted. But it is truly rare for such a large group to come at once. Escaping in small groups is easier than in a crowd, especially with elderly and children among them. For this to happen, they either managed to eliminate all pursuers, or they never had any. I'm curious to know how they managed it. I bet the leader is a woman. When I saw her, she reminded me a little of you when you were younger."

  Aqua's eyes showed a faint glimmer of curiosity.

  "Now even I am curious to meet her. But you never even saw me in my prime."

  Specter sketched a small smile.

  "True. When we met, you were about forty, weren't you? Anyway, it's a pity, but I have other matters to attend to with Ganga Zala. I leave the investigation to you. Tell me what you find out later."

  Aqua nodded.

  "Of course. I always like to welcome more people. Things had become very monotonous around here."

  The next day, Aqua woke with the first light of dawn. With age, she had learned to rise early. She prepared something simple to eat and left her house. At that hour, few people were about; only some farmers, who had woken early to start work in the fields. The cool morning air carried the dew and the crowing of roosters.

  After a short walk, she arrived at the place where the newcomers were lodged. The guards greeted her with respect. Security regarding the newcomers was a necessary measure. Now that the governor of the Captaincy of Pernambuco had expelled the Dutch, it was only a matter of time before he turned his full attention to destroying the region's quilombos. While they were recovering from the war, however, they limited themselves to sending spies. There had even been an assassination attempt on Ganga Zala. The government promised money, land, and freedom to any slave who killed Ganga or provided information about the quilombo. Aqua didn't understand how some could betray their own brothers and sisters for such empty promises.

  Upon entering the festivities house, she noticed that most were already awake and had eaten. "They must have slept early, due to the exhaustion of the journey," she thought.

  "Good morning, everyone! I am Aqua, chief of the Armadillo Mocambo. I will explain how your life will be from now on. It's simple: everyone who works honestly will have their place in the Jabuticaba Quilombo. Each of you will receive a plot of land to build your house and cultivate your sustenance. You only need to cede the surplus of your production. The younger men will become warriors to defend the quilombo. In case of attack, everyone must help with the defense, including the women."

  An anonymous voice came from the group:

  "But I don't even have a hoe to work the land! How am I supposed to farm?"

  Aqua, without identifying who had spoken, answered calmly. This kind of questioning was common.

  "Don't worry. You will receive the necessary tools. There is a well near your lands for water supply. And, of course, we will provide food until your first harvests are ready. You will stay here until you finish your own houses. You will build them yourselves. There is a river nearby where you can extract clay. And if you don't know how to work the land, or need help, just come to me."

  She paused, her tone becoming more serious.

  "Unfortunately, we cannot yet fully trust you. Therefore, you will not be allowed to move freely through the quilombo nor leave the boundaries of your lands. The young men will not yet be integrated as warriors, not until they prove their trustworthiness. Know that the quilombo does not tolerate dishonesty or laziness. Anyone caught doing so will return to being a slave, working in a sugarcane field to produce cacha?a for the parties of the honest ones. More serious crimes will be punished by death. The guards will watch you for at least one month. After this period, you may move with more freedom, but the rules and punishments remain."

  The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

  Hearing this, Carlos reflected, surprised: "So there really are slaves in the quilombo... I hope they are only criminals, and not honest people."

  Aqua continued:

  "You will be accepted more quickly if you have special skills: mastery of magical gems, knowledge of carpentry, blacksmithing, or military tactics."

  "The test isn't foolproof," Aqua pondered, "but it's better than accepting everyone unconditionally. We can't waste guards watching them forever. The agreement is fair, and this group is lucky: the land they will receive is fertile, close to the mountain, which will make cultivation easier."

  As she observed them, Aqua remembered when she had founded the quilombo. As a princess in Congo, she had brought valuable contributions – military and administrative experience. When she arrived, the quilombo barely had two thousand people; now, it housed ten times more. The path had not been easy, full of struggles. Finding a safe home had required effort: a fertile location, hidden in the forest and mountains. They had been lucky in that, and on top of that, there was a mine of magical gems nearby. A pity they didn't have a magical artisan to carve them properly, but even in their raw state, some gems could be useful.

  After explaining how the quilombo functioned, Aqua wanted to hear the story of their escape. Escaping in such a large group required organization and good warriors – something the quilombo always needed, especially if they knew how to use magical gems. For now, none of them could become warriors, but that was a matter of time.

  Aqua concluded:

  "So, that's how you will live. But now I want to know from you: how did you manage to escape the engenho? Is there a leader who can tell me the details?"

  "That woman with the 'F' brand on her forehead must be the one Specter mentioned," she thought. "She looks even tougher than I was. She's certainly the leader."

  To her surprise, however, the one who stepped forward was not the woman, but a man who didn't seem to be the strongest of the group. And his story left her astonished. That man, named Carlos, with little help or organization, had managed to kill almost all the overseers thanks to his "devil's artifacts." The story was hard to believe. Aqua turned to the woman with the brand on her forehead, asking if it was true. The woman, and others around her, confirmed it. If it were true, it represented a problem: she couldn't allow strangers with such powerful weapons to move freely through the quilombo.

  "Unfortunately, we cannot allow you to walk freely with them. A guard will keep an eye on you at all times, but it will be temporary, until we trust you."

  Carlos did not object.

  "In that case, I can hand over the weapons to you temporarily, until you trust me. By the way, I would like to demonstrate their power. I think they would be useful for the defense of the quilombo. With the right materials and manpower, I might even be able to manufacture more."

  This surprised Aqua. "What? He's going to let us keep them? What a generous person. If these 'firearms' are really that powerful, Specter will be pleased. We have the warriors, but we lack magical weapons. Although he said the weapon isn't magical... then why does it have 'fire' in the name? I thought it used a fire gem."

  "I appreciate your cooperation. In that case, I will take the weapons and discuss the matter with Specter. I'll speak with you later."

  Then, Aqua handed the weapons to a nearby warrior and took the group to the land allotted to them.

  ***

  The designated area was surrounded by dense forest, with a imposing mountain in the background. The air carried the sweet smell of turned earth and the pungent aroma of cut vegetation. The undergrowth reached their knees, and the Herculean task ahead was visible. All around, the rhythmic sound of hoes cutting into the soil mixed with the animated calls of other workers. But no one was disheartened; on the contrary, the excitement of owning their own land made many start working immediately, their faces shining with sweat but also with hope.

  Only Carlos remained on the sidelines, discouraged, kicking a stone with his foot.

  "So this is where we're going to live," he thought, watching the hard work around him. "I don't know anything about farming. I prefer city life. I loved visiting my grandparents' farm when I was a kid – swimming in the cold river, picking ripe fruit right from the tree, playing with the animals. But working from sunup to sundown is another story."

  His eyes scanned the rugged terrain as a drop of sweat trickled down his temple. "I hope Lady Aqua considers my proposal. The sooner they accept me, the sooner I can put the knowledge from the old man's books into practice."

  While lost in thought, Tassi approached, moving gracefully between the clods of freshly turned earth. Her bare feet sank slightly into the damp soil, and she carried the mixed scent of fresh sweat and earth.

  "You're quite different," she said, stopping beside him and following his distant gaze. Her fingers lightly touched the brand on her forehead, a gesture that seemed involuntary. "I don't know if I would have handed over those weapons so easily. I would have waited a bit longer, been more... cautious."

  Carlos sighed, feeling the weariness in his bones. His fingers drummed on his thigh, a nervous rhythm.

  "It's not like I had much choice," he replied, his voice laden with a fatigue that went beyond the physical. "If this Brazil is like the one from my world, slavery will still last for centuries, and all the large quilombos will be destroyed by then." He closed his eyes for a moment, as if seeing something painful behind his own eyelids. "That's why I will help anyone who fights against a system like that. For the future and for the present."

  Tassi nodded slowly, her green eyes reflecting a bitter understanding. She crossed her arms, and Carlos noticed how tense her muscles were.

  "I understand," she said, her voice softer now. "I also plan to fight. I will join their army to defend the quilombo." She paused, and when she continued, there was a shadow in her tone: "Before, I fought so that my kingdom would capture more people to enslave here. Now... I want to fight to free them." Her fingers tightened against her own arms. "I just think you could have been more cautious with the weapons."

  Carlos watched a family working together further ahead – the father cutting the vegetation, the mother piling up the branches, the smaller children carrying water in gourds. A sad smile touched his lips.

  "You know," he said, turning to Tassi, "you have excellent aim. That rock to Jairo's head was precise, calculated." His tone became lighter, almost casual: "I think, when I manage to manufacture the weapons, the first one will be yours."

  Tassi's eyes widened, her stiff posture relaxing slightly. A sigh of genuine surprise escaped her lips.

  "Wait –" she leaned forward, her green eyes now shining with renewed interest – "you can really make more weapons like those?"

  Carlos shook his head, a tired smile appearing on his face. He picked up a handful of soil, letting it trickle through his fingers.

  "Like those? Impossible." He explained, rubbing the dirt from his hands. "But I can make more rudimentary weapons, like flintlock muskets. Even so, they'd be much better than any bow." His gaze became distant, calculating: "But it will be difficult to manufacture them, although in my world they were already being produced in this era."

  This did not diminish Tassi's enthusiasm. Her eyes shone like green gems under the morning sun.

  "Even if they're rudimentary, they'll be very useful!" she exclaimed, her previously serious face now lit up by a rare smile. "I'm impressed that you know how to make them. I misjudged you, I admit."

  Carlos looked deeply into her green eyes before answering. The sound of hoes in the background seemed to mark the rhythm of his words.

  "Know, I don't know it by heart," he confessed, lowering his voice as if sharing a secret. "But I have the books from the old man at the engenho. One of them explains how the first firearms and gunpowder were made." He shrugged, a gesture almost carefree that contrasted with the seriousness of his words: "I don't know how long it will take, but it's possible."

  Tassi smiled, a genuine smile that for the first time reached her eyes. The sound of her soft laughter mixed with the song of birds in the nearby forest.

  "I see," she said, studying his face with renewed interest. "You're more competent than you look." Her smile became a little mischievous: "By the way, the mocambo chief didn't seem to believe your story. I don't blame her – you don't look like someone who starts rebellions." She made a dramatic pause, her eyes twinkling: "She couldn't take her eyes off me. But just you demonstrate the power of the weapons, and their opinion will change quickly. They'll let you produce them in the blink of an eye."

  Carlos thought, discouraged: "Do I really look that weak?" His shoulders slumped slightly under the weight of others' perception.

  And, still downcast, he said, kicking another small stone:

  "That's the plan. It's a pity the ammunition isn't infinite, but it's worth spending a little to gain the quilombo's support."

  Tassi agreed, her gaze following the flight of a hummingbird over the plants. For a moment, she seemed younger, less burdened by the weight of her past.

  "Yes," she agreed, pulling a leaf from a nearby bush and twisting it between her fingers. "It's a pity we can't get more from the merchant." She smelled the leaf before continuing, her voice laden with genuine curiosity: "By the way, I wanted to know how he managed to get so many 'devil's artifacts.' They are extremely rare. I myself had never seen one before coming to Brazil." Her fingers were still playing with the leaf, a nervous habit: "I think even in Europe they are very rare. Only in the New World are they more common."

  Carlos was surprised, his eyes widening. He stopped kicking stones and turned completely to face her.

  "Really?" he asked, his genuine interest momentarily erasing his previous dejection. "And why would they be more common here?"

  Tassi didn't have an answer. She threw the crumpled leaf on the ground, a gesture of mild frustration, and shrugged, her face taking on a thoughtful expression.

  "Who knows..." she whispered, her eyes losing focus on the horizon, where the mountain met the sky.