The sound of gunfire echoed in the air as the defenders of the City of Lisbon desperately held on to the last man. Despite the overwhelming numbers and power of the enemy they fought, they continued to defend their city against the invaders bravely. It had been weeks since the Triple Alliance first set forth into the Kingdom of Portugal, and now they had finally breached the Capital.

Berengar sat upon horseback as he strode forth through the ruined city walls, leading the Cavalry charge with a rifle in hand. He rapidly pulled back the bolt of his rifle before chambering the next round and squeezing the trigger, sending the projectile downrange and into the torso of the target.

The power of the 8mm round blasted the soldier's breastplate apart and dug its way through his innards, splattering what remained of his internal organs across the stone walls of the city. While the Austrian cavalry gunned down any man foolish enough to come close, they were flanked by the Granadan and Byzantine Infantry, who fired their muskets into the fray and clashed against the enemy with their bayonets.

Despite a hellish artillery barrage that had brought their city to ruin, the surviving defenders of Lisbon refused to surrender their arms. Instead, they fought with every intent to save their dying Kingdom. These men had not been paid in months and were underequipped. Yet, they mustered their courage with fierce determination and battled against the invaders.

However, against overwhelming numbers and firepower, there was only so much that they could do. Thus, the battle began to shift in favor of the Triple Alliance the longer it went on. Berengar continued to fire his weapon towards the enemy lines; each shot fired managed to find its way into the target's body, reaping their life in the process.

After firing the fifth round of his bolt action rifle, he quickly retrieved a full stripper clip from his web gear, where he proceeded to load his weapon; after ensuring all five rounds entered the built-in magazine, He slammed the bolt home before raising his gun and firing at more targets.

While the muskets utilized by his allies battered the makeshift defenses of the hostile garrison, the true penetrative power came from the 5,000 Cavalrymen armed with the superior bolt action rifles. The men who were willing to waste their lives in a foolish attempt to resist the invasion of their city were cut down like wheat to the scythe.

As the blockade that was set up to prevent the advance of the Tripple Alliance came crumbling down, Berengar forced his horse, whose name was Glory forward, to hop over the piles of dead bodies and further advance into the city. The cavalrymen by his side rode forth into the narrow paths of the town as they gunned down any man who still bore arms.

The Granadan and Byzantine soldiers followed behind, opening fire on any soldier still standing in their path. Eventually, the massive horde made their way to the City's Castle, where they intended to drag the Portuguese King out from his hiding place and force him to surrender his Kingdom to Granada.

However, when Berengar and his men arrived at the City's Castle, they found it completely unoccupied. The gates were wide open as if they were welcoming the soldiers of the Triple Alliance to the seat of Portuguese power. Berengar was cautious of this scene and immediately ordered a unit of Infantry to go in and clear the building.

"Go forth and clear the building; I want King Luiz dragged before me within the hour!"

Upon hearing the orders of the Allied Commander, the Granadan and Byzantine troops saluted the young Austrian King before entering the Castle. As they did so, Berengar sat back with Palladius, who commented on the odd situation.

"I think that Portugal's King has long since fled the city and abandoned his people. He is probably marching north as we speak to the city of Porto..."

Berengar gazed upon the open Castle with a disgruntled expression; since the soldiers had entered the building, no single sound of conflict had occurred. What Palladius said was starting to appear to be the reality he faced.

Before long, the Soldiers who went into the interior of the large fortified structure came out with nervous expressions. There was not a single living soul within the Castle. Nor was there any sign of the Royal Family's bodies. It was as Palladius had said; they had long since fled the city. After hearing this report, Berengar stomped his foot in fury and cursed in his native tongue.

"Fuck! This bastard is determined to make this war lasts as long as possible, isn't he?"

After venting his frustrations, Berengar gave his decree on how to handle the city.

"The Royal Family is gone; they have left behind the city for us to plunder! I say we take advantage of it, loot everything of value, we will chase after Portugal's cowardly King once we have had our fill!"

After giving this order, the Granadan and Byzantine army began to tear the city apart, looking for every piece of silver or gold that they could find. Anything of any value was stripped from the city and sent to Granada.

As for Berengar, he sat back with his cavalry as he watched the looting occur. Those civilians who had survived the invasion were left cowering on the side as the foreign soldiers tore their city apart. They began to curse their King beneath their breath, as they realized now that they had been abandoned to their fate.

Berengar began to smoke a hemp cigarette as he sat on his horseback next to the Strategos of the Balkans, who began to comment on the ongoing looting.

"Are you sure this is wise? Granda will be conquering these lands; will this not foster resentment from the people to their new overlords?"

A plume of smoke came out of the young Monarch's mouth as he addressed his allies' concerns.

"Undoubtedly, however, Granada needs the wealth; this war effort had not been easy on their coffers. Regardless of how we handle the civilians, there will be an inherent resentment towards a foreign power that now rules over them. A long as it is managed to a tolerable degree, there is nothing to worry about.

If these fools want to cause trouble in the future, they only need to look back upon this day and see what happens when they resist the authority of Granada and its allies."

Palladius sighed as he heard this response before asking the following question on his mind.

"Can I have one of those?"

He was referring to the Hemp cigarettes when he asked this question. Thus Berengar nodded his head before dragging another one of the smokes out from his container and handing it over to the Byzantine General, where he then helped him light the cigarette.

The two men smoked in silence for the remainder of the looting. The city of Lisbon would never forget the humiliation they had suffered this day. However, Berengar did not care; such a troublesome population was not his to manage. Instead, he gazed off into the distance towards the city of Porto, where he swore in his mind that he would get ahold of the Portuguese King and make him surrender before this war was over.

The soldiers of the Triple alliance dwelled within the city they had plundered during the night. The following morning they would embark on a chase to see if they could capture the enemy King who fled his Capital for the next best city.

However, tonight the soldiers drank and feasted as they celebrated this victory. For they had no idea what they would encounter the next day, and it was best to enjoy your life when you could. Berengar retired to the city's Castle, where he slept in the royal bed-chamber of the Portuguese King.

As he lay on the silk sheets, he thought about what he would do when this war was over. Although he immensely enjoyed fighting on the battlefield, his technology was advancing rapidly; soon, there would be no need for him to visit the frontlines personally. Would he be an armchair general, sitting in the war room in Kufstein while his forces battled foreign Empires across the globe?

Or would he continue to lead his soldiers through every battle until he could no longer do so? These were the questions that haunted his mind as he drifted into a sweet slumber. He was sure of but one thing, he deeply regretted not taking a Portuguese woman to his bed because the night was cold, and he was truly alone in this vast Castle that belonged to a foreign monarch.