The sun in Betim broke through a thin mist, casting golden light on the warehouse beams still smelling of resin. From the upper balcony of the estate under construction, Marcos observed a small column of men marching along the newly leveled path from the docks. They wore matching tunics — deep blue, slightly lighter than the morning sky — tucked into coarse cream-colored trousers, leather belts strapped across their chests in a diagonal line.
Over the heart, embroidered by hand, a symbol: a stylized gear encasing a rising flame, flanked by two coffee branches. Beneath it, stitched in olive thread, one word: Barbosa.
A New Name for an Old Shield
What once had been referred to among workers as the "Black Rose Guard" — a name whispered with both pride and caution — had now been officially inscribed into provincial records as the Companhia de Guarda Barbosa.
It was not a new force, but a new recognition. The charter granted them the right to patrol trade routes, escort company shipments, and defend commercial property under the same legal framework as local militias, so long as they remained distinct from the Imperial Army.
The formal letter had been signed three days earlier in the chapel annex, under the supervision of the town notary and witnessed by the local judge. No pomp. No brass bands. Just paper, ink, and authority.
"We're not painting over our strength," Baltazar had muttered as he rolled the parchment. "We're giving it armor."
Uniforms and Presence
The new uniforms had been designed by Ana herself, blending functionality with symbolism:
Deep blue tunics dyed with indigo brought from the south.
Reinforced cream-colored cotton trousers, sturdy but breathable.
Brown leather belts with slots for tools, scrolls, and sabers.
A green-olive sash across the chest, representing vigilance and neutrality.
And at the center of it all: the emblem of the Barbosa family.
Marcos had chosen the symbol carefully. The gear for industry and progress. The flame for knowledge and ambition. The coffee branches for roots and resilience.
Growing Roots in Betim
In the weeks since his arrival, Marcos had overseen more than just walls and trade docks. He had purchased three unused wells, restored one communal storage barn, and begun negotiations with local families to fund a night patrol route that would connect Betim to Igarapé and Contagem.
These acts had not gone unnoticed.
A group of elders and clergy requested an audience with him, not to complain, but to thank him — and to ask, delicately, if he would consider taking a position on the local council, which had sat leaderless for months.
He declined — for now.
"My work must remain on the ground, not behind a desk," he told them.
But Ana caught his gaze later that night.
"You're not building a business anymore, Marcos. You're building a city."
Whispers Beyond Betim
The transformation in Betim had not escaped the attention of neighboring districts.
From Sabará came veiled inquiries from merchants curious — or wary — about Marcos's growing presence.
A courier from Lavras arrived under the pretense of delivering wheat tariffs, but his real interest was obvious: he circled the estate twice, noted the guards, the uniforms, the presence of sealed crates bearing the now widespread C.S. stamp — Companhia da Sombra.
"They're not sure if you're a merchant, a general, or something worse," Baltazar observed.
"Let them wonder," Marcos replied. "But let them also see we build, not burn."
The People Speak
Among the population, the effect of Marcos's leadership was tangible.
The workers began referring to him not simply as "Senhor Marcos," but as "Patrão Barbosa", a term once reserved for landowning figures of historical weight. With each passing day, the Barbosa name became less an identity and more a standard — a banner.
The local blacksmith, seeing the new uniforms, requested a commission to forge standard sabers and metal emblems bearing the family crest.
Children sketched the gear-and-flame symbol onto the corners of school slates. A baker carved it onto loaves during Sunday markets. And the recently reopened post office had begun stamping merchant ledgers with a simplified seal: B encircled by a cogwheel.
The family had become the region's unofficial authority — not through title, but by trust, coin, and coordination.
System Notification
As Marcos reviewed the updated map of guard routes and grain transports that night, the system chimed softly:
[Mission Complete: Establish Legal Armed Wing – Phase I]
✔ Company legally recognized under provincial charter
✔ Uniforms and insignia accepted by populace
✔ Influence expanding beyond Betim
Reward Unlocked: Blueprint – "Mobile Command Wagon (Logistics + Communication Module)"
New Mission Available: "Consolidate Civil Authority: Draft Governance Proposal for Betim and Surrounding Parishes"
He lowered the map and stared out the window, where torches marked the newly patrolled routes. He knew what the next steps were — not just expansion, but governance.
The flame on the crest had been lit. Now it had to be fed.