"Excuse me mister, um..."

"Name's Johnson."

"Mister Johnson, but why is there a castle in the middle of Wisconsin?"

Mr. Johnson paused to light his pipe before placing it back in his grey-rimmed mouth. "Oh, that's the home of the Wisconsin Dairy King."

"What?"

"You claim to be a native of Wisconsin, you've never heard of the Dairy King?"

"I've heard of the restaurant chain..."

The old, grey-maned stranger stared right in the young man's eye. "The restaurant chain? THE Restaurant CHAIN? The restaurant chain is NAMED after him, you fool! Modern kids, I swear..."

The younger of the two men cringed and gulped. "Well, since I don't know who the Dairy King is, could you tell me?"

Johnson took out his pipe and softened his glare on the boy. "Very well. In Wisconsin, there once was a man named Horton Pikes. He was an interesting mix of connoisseur and entrepreneur, able to tell both the quality of a piece of cheese and the cow from which it came, and how he could use it to his advantage. He'd go to various dairy farms throughout the state, talking to the farmers, inspecting the cows, and drinking the sweet, sweet milk that came strait from their udders. The farms that had the best cows, he made a deal with. If they each gave him one of the young of their best milkers, he'd pay them ten times the animal's worth, as well as give them the offspring of those cattle. They said yes. Horton carefully raised the animals by hand, giving them just the right things to make them grow into healthy, beautiful bulls and heifers. He bred them together, and, keeping to his word, he gave the offspring back to the farmers. However, he kept some to himself, eventually creating the finest line of dairy cows ever to exist: the Horton."

"Horton used the cow's milk to create exquisite dairy products such as the world had never seen; creamy, smooth, ambrosial ice cream, aromatic cheeses, shining butter of pale gold, ethereal cream, and the most heavenly milk to ever touch men's lips. They were practically god-food. He sold his products, and became a millionaire."

"But what does that have to do with anything?"

"Hush, boy! Horton settled down for awhile. He got married to a beautiful woman, got a big house, raised a family. But as he got older, he went a little... strange. He declared himself the King of Dairy, and went around wearing an outfit like someone out of a fairytale, with a piece of cheese under his crown and an ice cream cone attached to his staff, still going around, checking on the other farmers and their cows and their milk. Tore down his old house, built a castle on its foundation. Declared all the dairy farmers he'd helped the Nobles of Wisconsin. Most of the people nearby played along with the old fellow. But his wife grew ashamed of his antics, and was having an affair with an actor named Adolph Masters."

"Masters?"

"What of it, boy?"

"Nothing. Continue the story."

"His wife hated her husband's behavior, and loved another man. So she killed him."

"Killed him?"

"Well, that's what most people think, anyways. She said he died of old age, but any half-wit could figure out it was poison."

"And nobody realized?"

"World's full of stupid people."

"True."

"So anyways, he died, and she and all her children became Masters and moved to a more modern mansion. Horton Pikes was buried in a nearby cemetery, with the inscription 'Here lies Horton Pikes, Dairy King of Wisconsin. May he dine well in Heaven.' But most people say he never got there, and that his ghost lingers in the castle still, unaware of his wife's treachery."

"Is that why nobody's bought it?"

"Well, that and people think it'd be a disgrace for anyone who wasn't Horton's heir to live in the castle, but yea. And I never caught your name, boy."

"It's Vlad, Mister Johnson. Vlad Masters."