Blood Moon

Chapter I My arrival and subsequent imprisonment

I had arrived at Castle Dracula on the eighteenth of March. The weather had been dark and grey and I had the distinct impression that the man who was serving as coachman did not enjoy my presence. There was a darkness about the land and the sun seemed to be blotted out.
I was pouring over my papers. I had been told by my superiors in London that completing this transaction where my predecessor, a Mr. R. N. Reinfield, had failed, would guarantee a position in the firm.
As I looked over my papers, my thoughts drifted toward my beloved Mina, whom had elected to stay behind in Whitby with a family friend. I soon found myself longing to have her at my side to comfort me.
This particular area of Romania was home to the most loyal people in the known world. To the best of my recollections, it would seem that a band of gypsy farmers migrated to this region and, upon discovery that the land was not suitable for farming, began selling out their services to the local dukes and barons. These men were taught loyalty to the coin from birth and would stop at nothing to complete a task for their employer. By their law, should they fail they were beheaded and disembowled.
I had no knowledge of this now as I had only just arrived in Transylvania. I turned my head and glanced out the window to my right hand side. The countryside was beautiful in a gloomy sort of way. Clouds hid the sun behind their grayness and just ahead I could make out the sillhouette of Castle Dracula. It loomed in the rapidly darkening sky like a giant of yore guarding his lands from enemies. There stood and ominous perversion over it, almost as if it wanted me to be there.
My carrige passed beneath the colossal arches of the castle and into the expansive courtyard. a few trees lined the path however they were bare. My driver brought the carriage to rest at the steps of the castle and stepped down from atop his perch. The door was opened and I stepped out of the carriage. Before me was an eminse structure that no doubt took several decades and several hundred men to complete. Two towers rose into the darkness. The minor of the two had a light burning at the top. Before me rose a set of steps, weathered and old. And atop the stairs was a figure I took to be that of my host.
"Good evening. I am Count Dracula. I bid you welcome to my humble home Mr...Harker, isn't it?" the old man standing before me asked.
"Yes. Johnathan Harker. Might I inquire, Count, as to the age of the castle? It looks terribly old," I replied. The Count motioned for me to follow. I took my bags from the disgruntled driver and walked on.
"This castle was built in 1162, by an ancestor of mine. Vlad Tepes, or The Impaler as the local villiagers are wont to call him. A ruthless lord he would take prisoners and have them impaled on wooden spikes whilst he looked on soaking his bread in a bowl filled with the blood of those on the pikes. in 1194 the villagers banded together in an overtaking of this castle. they did to Tepes what he did to them. They stuck a pike through his rectum and impaled him."
I listened with great interest.