A/N: Hey there readers! Please review and tell me what you think of the intro! With this main character, part of what I'm trying to do is experiment with portraying a reluctant bad guy, but I'm not sure how well I pulled it off. Any comments you have on that would be appreciated.

On a different note, please critique how I portray the main character as a vampire. This was an old story from a long time ago that I just started working on, and I'm not really a vampire nut to be up on all the brand new vampires they have out now; I just tried to use the old Dracula-esque type that the Von Carstiens seem to embody (burn in the sun, turn into bats, sleep in a coffin, that sort of 'classic' thing).

Speaking of Von Carstiens, I hope I got the lore right. I wanted to use my Warhammer VC book for reference in this story, but this girl (whom I have a huge crush on, btw) borrowed it, and then lost it. (I warn you, readers, black hair + brown eyes = nothing but trouble.) So, if I get any lore wrong, that's why.

Anyway, enough of my babble! On to the story, and I hope you like it! Please review!

Count Calmus sat slumped over his desk, supporting his head with his hand. His eyes drooped towards the letter he was writing; it had been a busy day, and it was late at night; he was tired. Ugh, those peasants… He got up and paced the width of the small room over to the window, where he started up at the night sky. The peasants had stood in a line so long it stretched outside his keep, but he had seen them all, going personally to look at disputed property lines, hearing witnesses against cattle thieves, and dispensing the cold, hard justice of a day in the stockades on rabble-rousers and other vicious scum. He chuckled to himself. These peasants were always so discontent with each other; someone was always moving the family fence to take more of his neighbor's property, or stealing some small trinket. The threat of a month in the dungeon usually cleared up the trouble, but sometimes he felt like he was spending more time coddling his subjects than actually ruling.

Shaking his head, he mused, "Perhaps I should take a hint from some of my fellow noblemen. Cut off a few heads and everything quiets down."

Speaking of which…

He turned back to his deskand looked down at the letter, illuminated by single candle. Even after such a long day, he had more to worry about than his misbehaving peasants.

Something was brewing in the Sylvanian court; he knew it. The missives from the court had abruptly ceased several months ago, and when they resumed, they had taken on a different quality. He couldn't put his finger on it, but he knew that something was wrong. Since his territory was far out to the north of sylvanian lands, he usually kept in constant contact to monitor any suspicious activity around the border, and it did not bode well when the count did not wish to seek his report from the borderlands. He was to about send this letter by courier tonight, to another Count, to see what he could learn without going there personally. He felt in his bones that to attend the court would be a mistake.

As he sat down and dipped his pen into his inkwell, the door opened and his page entered, "A visitor to see you, m'lord."

Calmus rubbed his eyes, "A visitor? At this hour? Who is it?" he waved his hand in dismissal. "I will see him in the morning. Let him sleep here until then."

"Sir, this visitor is Count Vernard."

Calmus' eyes narrowed in the flickering light of the candle. Vernard's territory was close to the main court. He wouldn't need to send that letter after all. "Send him in."

Alert now, he watched Vernard enter, and softly shut the door behind him. "Greetings, Calmus."

"Greetings, Vernard. Take a seat, won't you?"

Vernard did. Calmus had never seen much of Vernard, but he could see that something was wrong just by the way he moved. It was a bit too...quick. Discreetly, Calmus slid open a drawer and grabbed a letter opener, just in case.

"I'm terribly sorry that I have received you in this dreary little writing space, but you caught me quite unawares. I would suggest that we move to a more comfortable room, but I suspect that you did not come here in the middle on the night to pay me a social visit."

Calmus leaned over the desk. "Let's have it, Vernard. What's going on in the court? Is there an uprising? Is Von Carstien sick? Is there a plague? What's wrong there?"

At Vernard's silence, he impatiently raised his voice, "Out with it, man! What's afoot?"

Vernard rose, his face shrouded in darkness. "There may be listening ears. Let me whisper the news to you."

Suspiciously, Calmus rose and leaned over the desk. "Yes, what is it?" Calmus kept his eyes on the other man's hands, still suspicious and not knowing what to expect. Vernard leaned in to whisper in his ear. In a voice as smooth as silk, he whispered, "Join the ranks of the unliving, my friend."

The page boy outside heard the scream, ran and yanked open the door as fast as he could.

The first thing he saw was the count slumped over his desk, screaming out in pain, and grabbing at his neck, blood oozing from the wound. "Count Calmus!", he yelled. The loyal page rushed forward and grabbed him, holding his hand against the wound to staunch the flow of blood. Calmus looked at him in surprise, then froze for a moment, his head whirling.

"Run." He whispered. Clamus looked the terrified page boy in the eyes, and on impulse, forced the words out past the gurgle of blood, "Tell.. uak.. everyone to run. Take nothing. ..huu… Just..." He heaved the last word out as a strangled yell, with the last of his living strength, so loud that it was heard in the courtyard below; "RUN!" He heaved a shaky breath, and managed a few final words, "Get everyone out of here, or they are all dead."

"That was a very foolish thing to do, count."

The page boy whipped his head about, and saw the visitor Vernard, slumped against the wall, with something sticking out of his chest, very near his heart. Very near his heart, but the man was not bleeding.

Vernard was slowly rising to his feet, clumsily grasping to pull the blade free of his chest. The page looked down and saw Calmus was not moving. At that he fled in terror, and the cry went up, first from the keep, then in the guard posts, then in the town.

"RUN, RUN if you want to live!" the page shouted and screamed as he ran through the streets, "The Count is dead, and we need to run!"

"What?"

"Stop shouting, boy! It's the middle of the night!"

"How?"

"Stop making trouble!"

"Why?"

The bloodspattered page's answer sent everyone to fetch their children and horses.

"VAMPIRE!"