Both the Venetians and the Tanilians could clearly feel it—the final moments were approaching.
The grueling siege was a tremendous torment for both attackers and defenders; everyone longed to see the end of it all, yet they also feared the arrival of that final moment.
The battlefield was quiet for the first time, the previous night's unceasing thunder of cannon fire had quieted for the first time. But everyone understood that this brief calm foretold the spilling of more blood.
Grindstone met sword and sparks flew, as the Venetians sharpened their weapons over and over again. The musketeers were also meticulously grinding their lead bullets so they would fit snugly into the barrels of their guns.
Upon the walls, the garrison busied themselves in frantic preparation, tirelessly moving stones, sulfur, bundles of arrows, and barrels of pitch to the ramparts through the night.