"Hey, Jorge?"

"Yeah?"

"You better come out and see this."

Axel stood, his face paler than it normally was, on the balcony of the White Tower of Gertford. Normally he would have never ventured out into the garish sunlight, but this was an exception. He had seen something that rooted him to the spot. His discomfort outweighed what he felt towards the object of interest.

What he felt was fear.

The objects in question were two massive silhouettes that hung in air, cruising silently towards Gertford. Oblong in shape, several spines stuck out of them, but they were still too far away to make out anything particular.

"Okay, I'm here." Jorge strolled out next to Axel. "Not everyday you take a sun-tan..."

The Circle's jab was cut short by the silent shapes.

"Oh, shit."

"Yeah. Shit is right. And we're in bucketloads of it."

The two shadows drew closer and closer until Axel's superhuman sight could get a better look at it. Dark red and blue in colour, they soon revealed their identity.

Airships. Zorne's Kruzeres, to be exact,balanced and powerful ships that were a common sight in any battlefield. Except that this was no battlefield. Gertford was a city, a city that the Vampire Hunters operated of, but a city nonetheless. And cities had civilians. Gertford had women. Children. Innocent masses thronging the streets, blissfully unaware to their approaching death.

By now, one of the cruisers stopped advancing and turned, facing its side. As the late afternoon sun caught the light on the length of its hull, showing one word.

Metzger. Butcher. One who sliced, chopped, and hacked mercilessly, rending limbs and sloughing flesh from bone.

Jorge's face blanched. Even a Circle couldn't stand against heavy ordnance. "Come with me." He yanked Axel back into the Tower. The Dhampyre felt a moment of relief as the sun's rays stopped prickling his skin. He looked down at his arms and found them mildly sunburned, much to his dismay. 

The duo scaled several flights of stairs, lit by flickering candlielight. There were no windows in the White Tower. As a result, its inside was a stark contrast to the dazzling connotation of its name. When Axel asked why on his first day, Jorge replied: "Less holes for people to shoot in at us."

Reaching a wooden door, Jorge pushed it open with one hand and dashed in. The room behind was tall and dimly lit, with dark wooden beams reaching to the ceiling and converging into a frame, from which hung a large bell about as tall as a man and four times as wide. 

The signal bell, thought Axel. It's huge.

Jorge grabbed the rope dangling from the bell, dropped it from his trembling hands, cursed, picked it up again. Grunting, he yanked on it once. Twice, thrice.

Long short short. Incoming firepower, evacuate to a safe place.

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

The signal was picked up by other bell towers in the city, the ghostly echoes of the chimes sounding muffled in the enclosed space. Running out of the signal room, Jorge bounded up another flight of stairs until he came to another balcony. Axel followed suit, throwing himself on the parapet and casting glances in every direction.

The sun had turned the muddy orange of evening, and the streets were clogged with civilians trying to get to a safe place. "Gertford is impregnable," ran the newsrags, "and highly unlikely to be attacked. Its superior defences can repel a land assault of considerable ordnance and it is situated a safe distance from the nearest shore. Its recessed location also make it a highly undesirable target."

Well-defended from land and sea. However, no one said anything about air. When it came to airpower, Estia was severely limited in comparison to Zorne. And now the civilians of Gertford would pay the price. 

The two Kruzeres had drawn close enough to see that the spines on their sides were the unmistakable chilling shape of bombardment cannons.

"Goddamn it...why are they so slow?" Jorge muttered. The civilians of Gertford were unprepared for an attack. Steeped in hubris and the illusion of their invulnerability, they had proudly ignored drills and safety briefings. Mired in their arrogance, they were now bogged down in it, creating a sluggish response. Even now the tiny figures on the ground moved with a certain kind of lassitude, as if they could not accept the present.

Jorge ran to a nearby com-horn. Grabbing the curved trumped-like device from its housing, he pressed the button on its box and yelled into it, broadcasting his voice to the entire Tower.

"This is Circle Number Six. Two incoming Zorne airships have been spotted. They are carrying what appears to be bombardment ordnance. All those who can fight, assemble in Hall One. I repeat, assemble in Hall One." Slamming the horn back down, he proceeded to run down the stairs, beginning the long descent back to Hall One on the ground. "Follow me?"

Hall One was crowded with stony, silent warriors. Equipped with all manner of weapons, they stood in rank, quiet and disciplined, in stark contrast to the panicked rabble that was the residents of Gertford. Even so, it was easy to see that they were uneasy and in some cases, demoralised. The legendary Vampire Hunters of Gertford were scared. Jorge walked into their midst, the crowd parting to let him through.

"Fellow hunters! I am addressing you today because of an imminent threat that looms over us all. I'm sure you all know of the Zorne airships that are menacing this city. They are many, and we are few. They are strong, and we are weak. But they lack our drive. Our tenacity. Our humanity. The humanity that drives us to fight against all odds. The humanity that forces us to our feet against unspeakable foes and unbelievable odds. The humanity that enables us to sacrifice. And that's what I'm asking you to do today. Sacrifice. I might die. You might die." Jorge paused, his voice trembling but stoic. "But they can't kill us all. And many more will live because of," he paused. "Because of--of today. Post tenebris lux!"

The Hunters raised their weapons and shouted their age-old battle cry. "POST TENEBRIS LUX!"

Jorge strode out of the hall, followed by a mass of reinvigorated and charged troops. Running out into the city with them, the first thing Axel noticed was that it had gotten late. The sun hovered low in the horizon, and the two deadly airships hung almost above Gertford. Axel realised that civilians were still running around on the streets. Previously, he might have been worried. But post-Delphurg Axel simply observed this dispassionately. He looked up as Jorge approached him. 

"Look, I know that it's a bit much to ask of you. But we need all the stopping power we can get. Axel--I'm asking you to fight alongside us."

"Finally called me by my name, eh? Well, don't worry, old man. I hate these bastards more than you do. Don't expect me to look out for your men, though. And keep them out of my way, or they'll be collateral in no time flat."

"That's a relief." Jorge jogged back to the head of the group. Raising his voice, he yelled. "We don't know what those cruisers will do just yet, so we're going to sit tight and wait. If they deploy troops, find them and cull them. If they bombard, try and minimise the damage to the civilians. They waited with bated breath for something, anything to happen. Nothing did.

The airships hung, silent, in the evening light. The sun finally dipped below the horizon, casting the world's long shadow over itself. There was an ethereal, dreamlike moment, that transition between night and day, when it's not either one but rather a balance.

Then night fell with ominous finality, and the guns finally roared, sending their deadly load to paint Gertford in hues of smoke and flame.