The morning sky over the Gulf of Valencia was clear—almost painfully so. A mild breeze rustled the Aragonese flags lining the observation deck of the coastal command tower, and the sea glistened like polished glass beneath the rising sun. Small patrol boats bobbed near the docks, their signal flags fluttering, while farther out in the distance, the massive silhouette of the INS Resolución cut an imposing figure on the horizon.
It was the day of the naval demonstration.
On the rocky terraces of the command post, foreign observers gathered in tight knots. Military attachés, naval officers, ambassadors, and even a few civilian dignitaries stood behind the brass railing, peering through binoculars and exchanging hushed remarks in a cacophony of accents. The islet slated for bombardment—Isla Negra—lay twelve kilometers offshore, barren and jagged, its rocky spires like broken teeth waiting to be obliterated.
