The Spanish troops advanced with extreme caution, securing each stretch of the far bank before allowing the next units to cross. Every formation paused, scanned, and prepared for ambush. Once across, the dragoons moved ahead, spreading out to scout the surrounding terrain, with orders to eliminate any fanatic forces they encountered.
"Captain," one dragoon asked quietly, "do you think they're waiting for us in Santa Fe?"
The captain studied the distant city before answering. "Perhaps. Though I doubt it. We'll confirm the truth ourselves."
The dragoons rode for nearly thirty minutes. When they reached the city gates, it was immediately clear something was wrong. No soldiers stood guard. The streets were empty. Doors and shutters were closed tight, as if the city itself were holding its breath.
The captain frowned. He dismounted and approached a nearby shop, knocking firmly on the door.
No answer.
"Break it," he ordered.
