The rain outside the command tent had eased to a steady drizzle, but the intellectual storm within was just beginning. Dom João, thecfompany director, and Dom Rui, the company's master planner, were deep in debate, the map of the Odelouca valley a silent witness to their clashing perspectives.
"Look at this, Rui," João began, his finger tracing the narrow choke-point for the main dam. "The bedrock is firm here. But the sheer volume of water... it will be immense."
Rui, meticulous as ever, adjusted his newly made spectacles.
"Precisely, João. And that brings us to the materials. The master masons, my foremen – they all advocate for cut stone for its mass and impermeable qualities, as is traditional for such a large retention. They are deeply puzzled by your insistence on mass production of fired bricks for the core of the dam. The fuel, the kilns, the sheer manpower just for brick-making... and the known porosity and inherent weakness of bricks under constant hydrostatic pressure. There's simply too much water for a conventional brick dam, João."
João held up a hand, his expression firm, a glint in his eye that signaled not obstinacy, but a deeper, almost unsettling conviction. "I understand their concerns, Rui. I hear the logic. But I have a feeling about this. A powerful conviction. We will produce bricks. Thousands upon thousands. Not just for the dam, but for... something."
Rui paused, a flicker of recognition in his eyes.
He tilted his head.
"Like the Ceylon state, then? A strategic resource whose full value isn't immediately apparent?"
João's eyes widened slightly. "Yes, somewhat. You understand the pattern, brother."
Rui pressed further, making the connection explicit.
"Like with the rubber and the gunpowder? That peculiar intuition that there was a hidden use, something valuable lurking beneath the obvious?"
A slow, affirming smile spread across João's face.
"Hey..... yeah. That's it, exactly. I feel it, there is something there. So, thousands and thousands of bricks."
He slapped the table, a decisive gesture.
"Alright, I've said it. I got it. We will make it happen. We need these bricks in abundance."
_________
Rui was deep in thought, he didn't even realize, dn got irritated, but it's the forst time i witness the " flair of the capitan" firsthand. That's ... quite .. interesting ...
Well go with it : "work with"....
The Conundrum's Resolution: Unearthing the Bricks' True Purpose
As soon as their private meeting concluded, Rui, still pondering João's enigmatic pronouncement, called together his most trusted engineers and master masons. This wasn't a debate with João; it was their collective challenge as "electors" within "Horizon Brazil" – to unearth the practical application for their captain's profound, yet vague, intuition.
"Gentlemen," Rui began, his voice low, "Dom João insists on the mass production of fired bricks here in the Algarve, in quantities far exceeding what we would traditionally use for the dam. His intuition tells him these bricks hold a significant, yet unarticulated, value for our future. He expects us to discover it. So, I ask you: What can possibly be done with... fired bricks? What? Think beyond the obvious. Think of 'Horizon Brazil.' What valuable purposes can these bricks serve?"
The professionals, accustomed to João's unconventional directives, despite their initial surprise, quickly turned their practical minds to the problem. They were men of concrete solutions, and their combined expertise began to yield a torrent of possibilities:
One thought -Permanent Settlements & Dwellings ?-: "Dom Rui," one of the local masons, a grizzled Algarvian named Miguel, offered. "Our new colonists will need proper homes. Stone is laborious and cold. Bricks offer uniform construction, better insulation, and are faster to lay once produced. Whole villages, even small towns, could rise quickly, offering permanence and comfort to the 'redeemed'."
Another one thought -Essential Infrastructure?-: Another engineer, fresh from Lisbon, chimed in. "Beyond houses, Dom Rui, consider aqueducts for the secondary irrigation channels, bringing water directly to the farthest fields. Foundations for mills, for processing the grain and olives. Even paved roads within the settlements, to withstand the seasonal mud and heavy traffic. Bricks are ideal for robust, long-lasting infrastructure."
Strategic Fortifications & Defenses: Then, a more astute, military-minded foreman, a former soldier, spoke carefully. "And for defense, Master Rui. We've heard whispers, even seen schematics from Dutch engineers, of a new form of fortification. Not towering stone walls, but earthen bastions, reinforced with layers of brick. The bricks, covered by thick earth, absorb cannon fire rather than shattering. They create resilient, almost impregnable defensive positions. If we are to establish a permanent presence here, and later in Brazil, we will need to defend it. Brick forts could be far more resilient than traditional stone against modern artillery."
Rui listened, a slow smile spreading across his face. This was it. This was the value João had intuitively grasped. From permanent homes for their colonists, ensuring their comfort and stability, to the very bastions that would secure their new territories against any future threats, the bricks were not just a building material. They were the very fabric of settlement, commerce, and defense – the tangible foundations of their burgeoning empire, both in the Algarve and potentially far beyond.
João's instinct was, as always, ahead of the curve. And it was up to his brothers to follow, to translate that profound feeling into bricks and mortar, into homes and forts, into the very bones of "Horizon Brazil."
_________
As the new day dawned over the nascent Algarvian settlement, Dom João gathered his core team – Dom Rui, the master masons, and the fledgling engineering corps.
There was no need for a dramatic unveal of a new idea; this was about confirming the next critical phase of an already agreed-upon strategic imperative.
João's eyes, sharp and resolute, swept across their faces.
"Gentlemen," he began, his voice cutting through the damp chill, "our drive for complete self-sufficiency is paramount. We have secured our timber, our metals, and soon, our new vessels. But the heart of our military and exploratory might – our superior gunpowder – still relies on a crucial component that we must porduce absolutely."
He paused, letting the implication hang in the air.
" I speak, of course, of saltpeter."
Rui nodded, a familiar, calculating look in his eyes.
He had been present for those initial, extensive discussions in Lisbon, in the villa's quiet studies, where João first laid out his audacious plan.
The team knew Lisbon's Crown held a rigid monopoly on saltpeter, a chokehold João was determined to to contravent, for two reasons: the first : the monopole on salpeter is conterproductive for portuhal, and do not align with the excessive need of gunpowder, and so, saltpeter.
"As we discussed in Lisbon," Rui continued, confirming their shared understanding, "our solution lies not in defiance, but in self-reliance, and in finding value where others see only waste. We will establish a comprehensive saltpeter production line right here in the Algarve."
He gestured towards the detailed settlement plans spread before them.
"As we build these new towns, we will engineer and install a ubiquitous system of public sanitation – latrines and strategic collection points designed for purpose beyond mere hygiene."
The masons, who had initially blinked at the unusual directive when first briefed, now understood the underlying strategic move.
"We will systematically collect the human defecations and other organic waste," Rui elaborated, "and process these using the proven, traditional methods of creating saltpeter beds – mixing them with earth, ash, and lime, allowing the nitrates to crystallize. It's a laborious process, yes, but it ensures a constant, self-renewing supply of the raw material, and sometiomes can be use as fertilizer."
Joao added, "And crucially, here on our granted lands, we are free from the Crown's direct oversight. This eliminates the need for their 'permission' and their onerous taxes on what we produce for ourselves."
The team recognized the boroder implications.
A reliable, independent source of saltpeter meant an unassailable advantage in military might, exploration, and trade.
It was a perfect embodiment of "Horizon Brazil"'s mantle: finding strategic value in the overlooked, building crucial independence from the ground up, even from the most unconventional sources.
It simultaneously addressed the pragmatic need for large-scale waste management for the thousands now arriving.
The air in the command tent was thick with the scent of lamp oil and damp earth, a stark contrast to the revolutionary ideas being discussed.
Dom Rui and Dom João had just laid out the plan for saltpeter production from public sanitation, and while the strategic implications were clear, some engineers remained, well, dutifully curious.
One of them, a meticulous young man named Miguel, cleared his throat.
"Captain," he began, a slight frown on his face, "the concept is brilliant, for our sustainance. But on the practical side... collecting and transporting such... material... on a large scale. That presents considerable logistical challenges, no?"
Before Miguel had even finished, Dom João and Dom Rui instinctively leaned forward, opening their mouths to explain almost simultaneously.
A flicker of shared understanding passed between them, a well-practiced dance.
João gestured subtly, deferring to Rui, the master of logistics.
Rui picked up the thread without missing a beat, his explanation grounded in pragmatic detail.
"Indeed, Miguel. The challenges are noted and addressed. We are not simply leaving piles. Think of it like this: we will utilize ox-drawn wagons – sturdy chariots with strong bovine for traction. These will be our primary means of transport."
He paused, letting the image settle before detailing the collection method.
"And the waste itself will be managed in centralized collection points, utilizing strong wood containers – bag of shit and piss, if you will – to contain it." Rui tapped a finger on the table.
"This method makes it far easier to collect and significantly simpler to direct these materials precisely to the designated place of manufacture – our saltpeter beds.
It's a system designed for efficiency, ensuring we gather every valuable drop, rather than leaving it to waste or cause further sanitation issues."
The engineer's frown slowly eased into a nod.
It was unglamorous, certainly, but undeniably practical and, in its own way, ingenious.
"Horizon Brazil" wasn't just dreaming of a new world; they were meticulously planning its very foundations, even down to the most unconventional resources.
_________
July 1657.
The merciless sun of July 1657 beat down on the Algarve, baking the earth dry after the long-anticipated rainy season. Dust, fine as flour, plumed into the air with every movement, clinging to sweat-soaked skin. Yet, under this relentless heat, the new heart of "Horizon Brazil" pulsed with an almost frenetic energy.
Three thousand souls – men, women, and children drawn from the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth and other diverse Catholic ethnicities – formed the backbone of this colossal effort. Clad in sturdy, practical attire, they moved with a disciplined intensity, their numbers a testament to the large sum of money Dom Rui had disbursed for grain, ensuring every stomach was filled, every body fueled for the work. Their presence transformed the once-abandoned landscape into a hive of purpose.
From the roaring mouths of the brick kilns, working at full capacity day and night, a steady stream of hardened bricks emerged. These weren't just for the dam's internal structure; they were rapidly becoming the walls of new houses, rising in neat, orderly rows, promising permanence and shelter beyond temporary barracks. Each completed dwelling was a visible step towards the new life promised.
Near the Odelouca riverbed, the sound of steel on rock was constant and jarring. The stone cutters were profusely active, their chisels ringing against the stubborn limestone, shaping immense blocks. This was laborious work, each precise cut agonizingly slow. These gargantuan stones were the very bones of the future. The dam was not yet a towering wall; it was a colossal, emerging foundation, its base spreading wide, already hinting at its immense pyramidal form that would ultimately taper upwards, relying on its sheer mass to resist the river's force. Teams of oxen, their thick hides glistening with sweat, strained under the yoke, pulling massive sledges laden with these quarried blocks – burdens that no human team could even dream of moving.
Elsewhere, the intricate irrigation systems were being meticulously installed, a network of channels and sluices spreading out from the future reservoir's footprint. The aim was clear: to channel the stored water far and wide across the arid plains, bringing life to thousands of hectares.
And in a testament to João's pragmatic vision for self-sufficiency, a particular, methodical rhythm had been established. Once or twice a day, with a quiet, almost discreet efficiency, ox-drawn wagons equipped with specialized containers, filled from the public toilets, embarked on their journey. They carried their bagged, centralized contents along designated routes, directly to the saltpeter fabrication site. It was an operation managed with clinical precision, ensuring a steady supply of the vital ingredient for their independent gunpowder, bypassing any need for the Crown's grudging permission.
Unseen by most, yet central to the dam's unprecedented capability, was the meticulous work with the caoutchouc. This was no material to be used in abundance; "Horizon Brazil" did not have that luxury. Every processed sheet of rubber was precious, a vital commodity that also brought in crucial funds. The engineers, under Rui's watchful eye, integrated these thin, resilient membranes with utmost care and precision, specifically within the dam's core structure and at its most vital points. Each inch of rubber laid was a calculated investment, ensuring an unparalleled waterproof seal, a silent guarantor of the dam's long-term integrity against the millions of cubic meters of water it was destined to hold.
Under the harsh Algarve sun, a future was being forged, brick by brick, stone by stone, and with a radical efficiency that promised to transform an abandoned land into a bastion of prosperity.
_______
The Algarve in July 1657 was a crucible of ambition.
The air thrummed with the ceaseless activity of thousands, a symphony of chisels ringing against stone, the rhythmic thud of mallets on timber, and the distant, earthy smell of the brick kilns.
The dry season allowed for relentless progress, but the true measure of "Horizon Brazil's" momentum lay far beyond the immediate worksite.
Out of the Genoese shipyards, a magnificent new vessel had just put to sea: the "Brazilian Nautilus."
A proud, potent symbol of "Horizon Brazil's" growing reach, it was not bound for distant shores just yet.
Its immediate mission was pivotal to the "Brazilian Dream" campaign, a recruitment drive that had quietly raged for a year now across the continent, promising a new life in the sunny, fertile lands of the Algarve and the boundless potential of Brazil.
The Nautilus led a commissioned fleet of stout, capacious transports, their sails swelling with the urgency of their task.
Their destination: the bustling ports of Italy, to begin the first wave of large-scale Italian immigration to the Algarve.
Simultaneously, "Horizon Brazil's" agents in the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth continued their relentless work.
The promise was being delivered: 10,000 new souls – a mixture of skilled workers, artisans, and families – were now actively on their way, expected to arrive on site over the next few months.
Each arrival represented not just a pair of hands, but a new life requiring sustenance, integration, and purpose.
Dom Rui's logistical machine was already preparing for this human tide: the new arrivals would be swiftly processed, their initial needs met with ready funds to purchase their clothes, acquire necessary equipment, and receive their first payments, ensuring their immediate transition into the project's demanding rhythm.
______
With a flourish of canvas and the sharp crack of fresh colors, a familiar silhouette cut through the morning haze off the Algarvian coast.
Dom Diogo, his face weathered by sun and salt, returned.
He stepped ashore, the easy confidence of a seasoned commander in his bearing, and soon found himself before João and Rui, the tension of high seas and daring raids melting into the camaraderie of shared purpose.
He spoke, uninterrupted, a storyteller in his element, recounting the brutal poetry of naval warfare. "The convoys, brothers, they continue to provide," he began, a glint in his eye. "We struck several times, focusing on Spanish and Dutch traffic, those fat, slow merchants... especially those from the West Indies routes."
His hand instinctively moved, describing the tactic.
"Our 'riddling nets,' as the crews call them, deployed with devastating effect. They bring down ships manoeuvrability one after another, entangling rigging, crippling their safrans. It leaves their ships floundering, easy prey."
He detailed the sharp, swift boarding actions, the desperate, brief resistance of the merchant crews.
"We took some good ships, solid carracks and fluyts, laden with goods destined for Cadiz and Amsterdam. And prisoners, yes, many prisoners, who now languish in our holding cells, ready for their own 'redemption,' or ransom."
Diogo then leaned forward, his tone shifting to the more mundane, yet equally vital, matter of finances.
"The Crown, as expected, sent their factor to oversee the division. They scrutinized every barrel, every chest, every ounce of silver." He chuckled, a dry sound. "They took their 20 percent, as is their due. But by the grace of God, or perhaps the cunning of my quartermasters, they deemed the reported loot to be 'not sufficient' to take more. After their cut, from the Spanish and Dutch ships alone, we retained a clean 800,000 gold cruzados." He paused for effect. "A productive year, indeed."
He took a sip of wine, his gaze hardening slightly.
"Not every engagement is a triumph, however." He recounted the stark, chilling encounter. "We were ranging near the Cape of Good Hope, seeking opportunities, when our scouts sighted them: a massive convoy of forty East Indiamen belonging to the VOC. Forty, João! They were heavily armed, a true fortress of the seas."
Diogo gave a short, sharp laugh devoid of humor. "To engage would have been folly, outright suicide. We made a strategic retreat, dissolving into the vastness of the ocean. It was a bitter pill, to have such immense wealth near our hands and ...., sail past...( expressing his mourning ) but my fleet, and more importantly, my crews, live to fight another day."
_______
Company Revenue Estimation (July 1657 Update)
Diogo's successful campaign provides a powerful injection into "Horizon Brazil's" already robust finances.
Annual Operating Influx: The company continues to project and receive its consistent annual capital influx of 1,000,000 gold cruzados from the rubber trade, funding the core operations and expansion.
Diogo's Corsairing Net Revenue (Current Cycle): Diogo's latest haul, after the Crown's 20% cut, adds a net 800,000 gold cruzados directly to "Horizon Brazil's" coffers.
Brazilian Resources: Beyond these figures, the ongoing and rapidly increasing production from Brazil – particularly sugar, valuable woods, and the precious, strategically sold rubber – represents a substantial and growing additional revenue stream, measured in hundreds of thousands of cruzados annually, providing vital liquidity and backing for the company's financial ambitions.
Thus, "Horizon Brazil" is currently operating with an exceptionally strong financial position, providing the necessary liquidity to not only continue the massive Algarve project but to fund the recruitment and "entertainment" of the surging new waves of colonists.