The morning sun filtered through a veil of red dust, kicked up by the wagons arriving at the southern gate of Betim. Two carts bore crates marked with the seal of the Monteiro family, packed with grain and tobacco. The third, however, bore no markings—just the scent of linseed oil and raw clay.
Inside were the tools of foreign artisans.
The Artisans Arrive
They dismounted in silence. Men of thick accents, sunburned faces, and practiced hands. Three Italians, sent from a small colony near Juiz de Fora, sponsored by Marcos to teach the art of tile-making and fine carpentry.
Their names were Pietro, Gaspare, and Elio. None spoke Portuguese fluently, but they understood enough when Ana gestured toward the worksite near the plaza.
"Fornos. Cerâmica. Madeira boa," she explained.
"Mestre aqui," she pointed to them, then to a gathering of curious locals, "Aprendizes aqui."
A cheer rose from the gathered crowd.
With only a nod from Marcos, a section of land was granted for the construction of a tile kiln, the first of its kind in the region. Beside it, a covered shed to serve as a carpentry training lodge.
Clay and Opportunity
Over the following days, villagers from Sarzedo and Contagem arrived, curious and eager. The Barcelos family of Sarzedo sent hides to be treated in exchange for ceramic roofing. From Esmeraldas, stoneworkers came bearing granite slabs to trade for finished furniture and wheels.
The network, once invisible, now moved like a breathing machine.
Marcos walked with Baltazar and Ana one evening through the workshop street.
"These aren't just trades," he said. "They're dependencies."
"Like muscles connecting to bone," Ana added.
From Paths to Tracks
Later that week, the system whispered again.
[Mission Proposal – Survey Potential for Narrow-Gauge Rail Route]
Resource Required: Ironworking Base, Logistics Map, Skilled Surveyor
Reward: Blueprint – "Manual Rail Construction (Limited Capacity)"
Time Estimate: 120 Days
Marcos stared at the translucent text above the parchment map on his desk. His fingers traced the roads that already pulsed with activity.
"From here," he murmured, "to Bicas. Then Igarapé. Then… farther."
Gaspar, captain of the Guard, leaned in.
"Not roads?"
"Something faster. And stronger."
A side glance toward the window revealed the faint glimmer of the Rio das Velhas.
"Until then," Marcos continued, "we use the water."
Echoes from Ouro Preto
The courier returned with no written answer, only a letter of acknowledgment and a request: that Betim provide evidence of legal and administrative stability, including judicial mediation and official militia regulation.
Marcos had anticipated it.
The Company of the Barbosa Guard was already recognized by the village council. He drafted a set of rules and posted them publicly on the Notice Board of Betim:
On trade weights
On personal disputes
On land exchanges
On municipal duties
Below it, the newly sewn emblem of the Barbosa family: a gear crossed with a flame, wrapped in coffee branches on a golden background.
The Shadow Stirs
Meanwhile, a man in Sabará sat in a candlelit study, reading the census papers copied by hand. He wore the crimson vest of the Vilarin family and tapped his fingers impatiently.
"They call him intendente now?"
His aide nodded.
"Even in Bicas, they refer to Betim's protection as superior to the Empire's."
The man stood, walking toward a window that overlooked the town.
"Let's see how far shadows can reach."
Commerce Report – Betim Central
Barter Volume: 36 contracts signed this month
Top Exchanges:
Ceramic Tiles ↔ Hides (Sarzedo)
Timber ↔ Carved Wheels (Contagem)
Salted Meats ↔ Grain & Milk (Bicas)
Iron Chunks (Igarapé) ↔ Basic Tools
Net Growth: +18% over last cycle
Monthly Surplus (Barter-based): Equivalent to 128,700 milréis
Milréis Reserve: 114,900 milréis
Roots in the River
At dusk, Marcos stood by the new dock pier at the southern bend of the Rio das Velhas. A barge loaded with cheese, tile, and rawhide was lashed tight. Lanterns hung from its corners.
Beside him stood a young lad from Bicas, holding a paddle.
"She'll go as far as São José, sir," he said proudly.
"And maybe Sabará… if the current's good."
Marcos smiled faintly.
"Go. And make sure they know who sent her."