San Carlos, the only town in the upper reaches of the Rio Negro.
Viscount Laguna, commander-in-chief of the Portuguese Expeditionary Force, waved at the ever-present mosquitoes, then frowned at the servant burning cedar bark nearby. "Damn it, Rufino, take that thing outside. It'll smoke me to death before the mosquitoes do."
Smoldering cedar bark was a traditional Native American method of repelling mosquitoes. Coffee grounds, citrus peels, and similar things were usually added to the fuel. Yet the effect seemed rather poor.
Only after the smoke in the room thinned somewhat did Viscount Laguna continue speaking to the clerk beside him. "Where was I? Oh, our army has taken control of San Carlos and established complete supply stations along the route.
"At present, the soldiers' morale is extremely high, and the Spanish defenders along the way have all been easily rout—"
As he spoke, he could not help glancing outside. Even the guards standing there looked listless at the moment. There was no sign whatsoever of "high morale."
As for routing the enemy? The fiercest battle he had fought on this march had been killing a few Jaguars. He had not seen a single Spanish soldier. Viscount Laguna withdrew his gaze and looked at the map on the table. "General Silveira is leading his forces toward El Picacho. According to the plan, he will occupy it in ten days.
"If all goes smoothly, our army will reach Tunja before the end of the year..."
El Picacho was the future Port Carreno, located in the middle reaches of the Orinoco River. Following the river west from there would quickly bring them into the prosperous regions of New Granada, greatly easing the Portuguese army's logistical pressure.
Tunja, meanwhile, was the gateway north of Bogota. Once it was taken, Bogota would essentially have