In the city of Elvas, the Portuguese forces were making feverish preparations for the impending onslaught by the combined might of the Kingdom of Spain and the Republic of France.
Soldiers hurriedly erected barricades, positioned cannons, and reinforced the city's defenses with grim determination.
Marshall General of the Portuguese Army, João de Lafões, paced along the fortified walls, his eyes scanning the defenses being constructed. Despite seeing the hard work of his men and the locals, he couldn't help but sigh pitifully.
There was no way the Kingdom of Portugal could stand against two European powers. The Kingdom of Spain, they could handle, but the Republic of France? The country that had conquered Northern Africa and the Middle East, defeated the Austrian Empire and the Kingdom of Naples, forced the Russians to leave the coalition and made them her ally, and created a defensive alliance with Prussia, Sweden, and Denmark-Norway.
In a country with that much influence, backed by its military power, the Marshal General knew from the start that what they were doing was futile. However, he saw the importance of defending their country from the invaders. The Kingdom of Portugal would not back down without a fight; it showed that it wouldn't bow down easily to France.
"General, are you all right?" Concern etched across the face of one of his officers as he placed a reassuring hand on the general's shoulder, leaning in slightly to scrutinize his expression.
"I was just thinking," General Lafões started, a half-smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Anyways, how are the defensive fortifications coming along?"
"They're almost complete, General," the officer reported.
"What's the situation with our adversaries?" Lafões inquired further.
"They arrived in Badajoz about five hours ago. Our scouts believe they'll initiate the invasion early tomorrow," the officer responded.
Lafões pressed on, "How many are we talking about?"
"Scouts estimate their numbers at around 60,000. They reached the city by train, and there's more—the scouts spotted some new kind of weaponry among them.""Weapon?" General Lafões tilted his head to the side. "What kind of weapon are we talking about?"
"By the looks of it, it seemed to be a form of cannon."
General Lafões hummed, recalling his memories about the time when he studied the campaign of the French Army in Egypt and the Middle East. In the newspapers they had gathered and collected, it was written that the success of their campaign was made possible by French new technology. Weapons that could be loaded from the breech rather than from the muzzle, can fire five rounds at a great distance with great precision, machine guns that can spew hundred bullets.
Of course, like any other general outside France would be skeptical reading those claims. After all, no one had seen it in action. However, he doesn't want to be the first European general to be on its receiving end. The simple imagination of him facing the French armed with those weapons turned his face pale.
"It seems like the odds have stacked us against even more," General Lafões chuckled in a dry, humorless manner. "It's a cannon huh? What a terrifying weapon."
But just as he uttered those words, a deafening roar akin to thunder shattered the air, causing him to snap his head sharply toward the source of the explosive noise.
"What is it? A thunder?" Lafões officers asked.
ραndαsΝοvεl ƈοm "But isn't that the direction where the Spanish and French Forces are concentrated?"
Lafões barely had time to process their questions before his gaze was drawn upward, to the heavens themselves. Against the vast expanse of the sky, a striking yellow light blazed, trailing tendrils of white smoke in its wake. The shrill sound that accompanied it seemed to cut through the air like a blade.
A sense of realization dawned on General Lafões as he watched the trajectory of the projectile—a grim understanding that their adversaries were now launching their terrifying artillery directly at them.
"Take cover!" Lafões shouted. The officers and soldiers scrambled, seeking refuge as the ominous projectile closed the distance between them with haunting speed. The shrilling sound intensified, growing more piercing by the second, a chilling prelude to the impending impact.
In a sudden, heart-pounding moment, chaos erupted. The air was rent with multiple ear-splitting explosions, each one more powerful than the last. The very ground beneath them quaked, sending shockwaves through the earth as if protesting the intrusion of such destructive force.
Deafening detonations followed in rapid succession. The fortified walls splintered into fragments, showering the ground below with debris. Houses that had stood for generations were obliterated, reduced to rubble in an instant. The cacophony of explosions drowned out all other sounds.
The explosions continued relentlessly, and General Lafoes and his officers could only lie flat on the ground, hoping and praying that this explosion would end.
"How is that possible?! How are they able to launch artillery from afar?!"
"It must be the new French cannons!" General Lafoes said, clenching his jaw as he tried to make sense of the overwhelming barrage. The force of the explosions reverberated through his bones, rattling his very core.
"Help!"
"Arggh!"
General Lafoes took a peek and saw men, women, and children being caught in the explosion. He flinched, his eyes trembling. Now he is seeing it all now. The reason why the Republic of France was able to take over Northern Africa and the Middle East.
The bombardment lasted for an hour. General Lafoes and his officers remained lying on the floor, afraid to even lift their heads.
As the explosions finally began to taper off, General Lafoes cautiously lifted his head, his ears ringing. He scanned the scene before him—buildings reduced to rubble, craters in the ground, and the air thick with smoke and dust.
He couldn't even recognize the city anymore. But amidst the destruction, signs of life persisted. Through the haze of smoke, he could see survivors emerging from the rubble, coughing and disoriented but alive. Some were helping others to their feet.
Coughing himself, General Lafoes struggled to his feet, using a piece of debris for support.
One of the officers ran towards him.
"General!"
"What is it?" General Lafoes asked, noticing the man's body shaking from fear.
"General…our troops…our troops have been decimated."
"How many?" General Lafões asked, his voice strained.
"More than half, General," the officer replied grimly. "It was a massacre out there."
General Lafões clenched his fists. "This is too much…Just what kind of monster are we facing here?"