The Confrontation Part 2

The sun had risen and set twice since the Elysean ships began their relentless bombardment. Fort Cervo stood battered and bruised, its once-proud stone walls now pockmarked with gaping holes and smoldering debris. Smoke hung heavy in the air, a constant reminder of the devastation wrought by the cannon fire. Inside the fort, tension simmered as the rebels struggled to maintain order amidst the chaos.

Commander Vittorio Salvi stood at the edge of the ramparts, his hands gripping the cold stone as he surveyed the damage. His face was lined with exhaustion, his eyes bloodshot from sleepless nights. Around him, the air was filled with the sounds of frantic activity—soldiers shouted orders, cannons roared intermittently, and the occasional scream of the wounded pierced the air.

Behind him, a group of his officers had gathered, their expressions grim. Among them was Matteo, the head of the fort's artillery, his face streaked with soot. Rinaldo, his second-in-command, looked equally weary but determined.

"It's been two days, Commander," Matteo said, his voice low but firm. "Two days of this constant bombardment, and still no sign of a landing party. What are they waiting for?"

Vittorio didn't answer immediately. His eyes remained fixed on the horizon, where the two Elysean ships loomed like ominous shadows against the morning sky. Their cannons continued to fire in coordinated salvos, each blast sending shockwaves through the fort.

"They're trying to wear us down," Vittorio said at last, his voice heavy with doubt. "Or perhaps this is their strategy. They want us to break before they even set foot on this island."

"But what if they don't plan to land at all?" Rinaldo interjected. "What if this is it? Just two ships sitting out there, pounding us into submission?"

Matteo nodded in agreement. "If that's the case, we need to act, Commander. We've been holding back our forces, keeping them at the main gate in case of an invasion that hasn't come. Meanwhile, those ships are tearing this fort apart. We should reposition the cannons guarding the gate and focus our fire on the Elysean fleet."

Vittorio turned to face his officers, his jaw clenched. "And if we do that, what happens if this is a feint? What happens if the moment we move our defenses, their troops land and take the fort from the inside?"

The room fell silent for a moment, the weight of Vittorio's words sinking in. Finally, Matteo spoke again, his tone insistent. 

"Commander, we can't sit here and let them destroy us piece by piece. We're running out of time, and those walls won't hold much longer. If we don't take the fight to those ships, there won't be a fort left to defend."

The room murmured in reluctant agreement. Vittorio's gaze swept over his officers, each one looking to him for a decision. He exhaled slowly, then gave a nod.

"Very well," he said, his voice steady. "Reposition the cannons from the main gate to the western wall. Target their lead ship first—cripple it, and the second will be forced to retreat."

Matteo saluted sharply. "Understood, Commander. I'll oversee the repositioning myself."

"Rinaldo," Vittorio continued, "keep a small detachment at the gate. If this is a feint, I want to be ready."

"Yes, Commander," Rinaldo replied, already moving to relay the orders.

The rebels worked with desperate urgency to reposition the cannons, hauling the massive guns and their ammunition across the fort. By late afternoon, six cannons were in place along the western wall, their barrels aimed squarely at the Elysean fleet. The crews were ready, their faces grim but determined.

Vittorio stood behind Matteo, who barked orders to the gunners. "Range the target! Elevate by two degrees! On my mark, fire a volley!"

The first volley thundered from the western wall, the recoil shaking the ground as six cannonballs hurtled toward the Elysea's Pride. The lead ship rocked violently as one of the shots struck its hull, splintering wood and sending a plume of smoke into the air. A cheer rose from the rebels, their spirits lifted by the sight of the enemy taking damage.

Onboard the Elysea's Pride, Captain Duval steadied himself as the deck lurched beneath his feet. He glanced at the impact site, his expression unreadable. 

"They've finally decided to fight back," he remarked to his first mate.

"Should we adjust our position, Captain?" the first mate asked.

"No," Duval replied. "Maintain our course. Let them think they have the upper hand. Prepare the gunners for counterfire."

The Elysean ships retaliated swiftly. Their broadsides roared to life, sending another devastating volley toward the fort. One of the rebel cannons was obliterated in the blast, its crew thrown to the ground by the force of the explosion. Smoke and fire filled the air as the battle raged on.

"Reload! Keep firing!" Matteo shouted, his voice hoarse. The remaining cannons roared again, their shots finding their mark on the Elysea's Pride. Another hit rocked the ship, and for a moment, it seemed as though the rebels might gain the upper hand.

But the Elyseans were relentless. Their superior firepower and disciplined crews quickly turned the tide. The Lionheart joined the assault, focusing its fire on the western wall. The combined barrage was overwhelming, and the rebels began to falter.

"Commander, we're losing too many cannons!" Rinaldo shouted, rushing to Vittorio's side. "We can't keep this up!"

Vittorio's face was a mask of frustration. He knew Rinaldo was right—the fort's defenses were crumbling under the relentless assault. But retreating wasn't an option. Not yet.

"Keep firing until I give the order to fall back," Vittorio said, his voice resolute. "We'll make them pay for every inch."

Captain Duval watched the flames consuming parts of Fort Cervo, a faint smile playing at the corners of his lips. "They've taken the bait," he said quietly.

The first mate nodded. "Their cannons are concentrated on us now. The landing force should have no trouble moving into position."

Duval's smile widened. "Good. Let's keep them distracted a little longer. Signal the Lionheart—continue the bombardment."

The first mate saluted and moved to relay the order. As the Elysea's Pride unleashed another volley, Duval gazed at the distant fort, his eyes gleaming with anticipation.

"The rebels won't know what hit them," he murmured. 

***

Meanwhile, two frigates, carrying five hundred troops, reached the shore of Sardinia.