The light of day shone through the fortress-manor's slit windows. The flags of Prussia's Frederick the Great hung on either side of the three robed elders who clustered around a long wooden table cluttered with papers, quills and inkwells. Their wizened eyes regarded the figure before them. They were positioned up a flight of steps so that they could gaze down at their guest, and of course, so their guest would have to look up to them.

Ferdi von Huber's fingers, each decorated with a golden ring, drummed on the table. "You come highly recommended, but untested. You have never actually destroyed a vampire, have you?"

Karl kept his face impassive, as his father had taught him, and leveled his gaze on the ancient elder of the hamlet. "I have not. My father did, and his father before him. The creatures are exceedingly rare these days."

The portly von Koch sighed. "And we are thankful for that. Imagine if these things were common!"

The three petty nobles shook their heads and harrumphed. Ferdi pointed at Karl. "Consider yourself hired, but given your lack of experience..." he trailed off.

Clearing his throat, the third noble, crook-backed and smiling von Jein said, "No payment until success."

His father had taught him well. Karl crossed his arms. "Unacceptable." He looked at each man in turn and did not flinch, although his heart was thudding in his chest with all the force of a marching drum. This was his first interview and he would not want to come back to his retired father in shame!

The men whispered to one another. Sidelong glances were cast Karl's way. Finally, von Jein leaned forward over the table. "Payment upon success."

Karl opened his mouth to complain.

"Three hundrend thalers," von Jein snapped.

"Done!" Karl did his best not to let his eyes grow too wide. Three hundred thalers was more than his father ever made for a single job. Even his famous grandfather never knew such success and that was in the late 1600's when witches and vampires were plentiful.

"It's settled then. Enough of pay and haggling. We're not merchants," von Koch grumbled. He placed his multi-chinned head on his hands. "Tell the boy what he needs to know."

Von Huber obliged. "The vampire lives in Bludvalt Castle. Outside Grossheim to the north. The road is..." he coughed and his ringed fingers drummed along the table. "You can't miss it. Put it that way."

The meeting had gone well. He had a price, he had information as to where the vampire was residing, all he needed to do was ride up to Bludvalt castle and put a stake in its heart. "I will return with its head." Karl bowed to the elders of Grossheim. "Long live Frederick the Great."

The men paled at the customary farewell. Von Jein offered a quick smile. "Yes," he said, "Long live the King." The noble gave a sidelong look to his two companions.         

                                                                   ***

     Karl nearly skipped as he left the manor-fortress of the elders. He passed by dour faced guards and walked cheerfully across the wooden drawbridge to his mount, secured to a post outside the castle. He checked over his saddle and the bags draped across it. Sword, pistol, holy water, his grandfather's crucifix, and three sharpened stakes were all in place. His father had said always to bring more than one, just in case the vampire had spawn or if the first attempt failed. Karl mounted his steed and guided it down a muddy road to the secluded town of Grossheim.

As he entered the hamlet, Karl didn't find it different than many of the small, isolated rural villages in Prussia. The sun shone brightly upon clustered houses with sharply angle steeples. The local Lutheran church was in good order, with the minister on the porch sweeping with a broom. A few children laughed and darted across the road, and near the town center, a trio of young women stared at Karl and offered smiles.

He nodded his head to them and smiled. He blinked. The women were wearing dresses that in every way looked as a dress should, except the collar. All three had opened their collars to expose their necks and even a bit of their shoulder. The shame of it! Karl cleared his throat and averted his eyes. A blacksmith worked in his shop, a fruit merchant haggled with customers and the town looked like an ideal place for a visit in the summer.

   Reluctantly, Karl looked to the three women. He guided his horse close and dismounted. He offered a quick bow. "Ladies. I am Karl Rospwhit." He glanced at the buildings of Grossheim and noted they all bore a fresh coat of paint. "Umm..."

  The three giggled. A slim woman, with eyes that were bright and blue drifted closer. "Strangers do not come to our little village often. What is it you come for?"

 He puffed his chest out. "I come to end your threat. I am told you have," he paused for dramatic effect, something else his father taught him, and leaned in close to finish, "a vampire."

The women turned pale as snow and stepped away from Karl. They shared looks and turned. At first they walked away from him, but soon enough were running.

 The sun was still up, if the women were thralls to the vampire, they should not have been able to wander about in broad daylight so easily. He watched them meld into the houses of the village before walking towards the minister, horse in tow.

The black clad men stopped his sweeping as Karl neared. He smiled and dipped his head. "My son. Trouble with the women I see? Young men are often too bold."

Karl shrugged. "Indeed. I meant no offense; I think I frightened them is all. I have come to solve your problem."

The minister straightened. "You have?" He clutched the broom tightly. His eyes darted side to side. "Come inside, it isn't safe to talk out here. The corruption has spread." He gestured to the town at large.

Karl took stock of Grossheim once more. A few butterflies flitted past.. "Yes, well." He tied his horse to a post near the church and followed the minister inside. The man was older, with frosty hair and long fingers. He shut the door behind Karl soon as he entered and ushered him further into the building. It looked typical of any church it had, pews, an altar and an impressive crucifix hanging from the ceiling.

"You can't imagine what he has done." the minister whispered. "It isn't safe to speak out against him either. You've been warned." He paused. "My manners. My name is Reynold. Grossheim is where I tend to His flock."

"Karl. Karl Rospwhit." He crossed his arms. "To be honest, the town looks," he shifted uncomfortably, "nice. Pleasant even."

"Oh, and it is!" Reynold stepped close and kept his voice in a low conspiratorial whisper. "Before the thing invaded our lives, Grossheim was a small town beset with the usual problems. Disease, drunkenness and an uncaring council of elders. Then the King," he growled, paused and said swiftly, "God protect him," in softer tones, before returning to his more heated tones, "decided to listen to that twit Voltaire and take up ‘enlightened' ideas."

Karl blinked. "What does this have to do with the King?"

"Everything!" Reynold waved his arms in the air and stalked down the aisle. "The King has decreed that all the villages can ‘elect' their own mayor to replace the council of elders that so many complain about."

He had heard something about the change, but in his own hometown he cared little for politics and spent his days learning the craft of his family.. He sighed. "I don't get it."

"You idiot. The vampire is running for mayor." Reynold waited for it to sink in. "Since Frederick made public his plans to enlighten Prussia, the cursed creature has cobbled the roads, repaired the bridge, used his army of ghouls to repaint the village and has thrown festivals nightly, courtesy his agents within the town. Namely the bartender."

"You're kidding?" Karl shook his head.

The minister's eyes blazed. "Do I look like I jest? I have seen an army of the undead sweep across the town and mend fences, repair broken locks and all manner of insidiously productive activities." He sighed. "Since the creature has made his candidacy known, the disease and suffering of Grossheim has withered away to nothing."

"And that's bad?" Karl said slowly.

"Yes it's bad!" Reynold swept his arms wide. "Did you not notice the empty church? They never come anymore. They have forsaken God, except on Sundays. They used to come to me with all their problems, now they have no problems." He pointed at Reynold. "The elders hired you? They tried to get Frederick to bar a vampire from running for office, but the blasted creature somehow got a letter to the King first, citing he had a medical condition, but otherwise was fully able to run the town. He even proved he had noble blood in him. Never mind he probably drank it..."

"Yes the elders hired me," he said slowly, his mind still trying to make sense of the most unusual vampire he ever heard of. "They'll pay me three hundred thalers if I kill it."

The minister's lips pursed. "A kingly sum. You told no one?"

"Just the three women who ran off," Karl admitted.

"No. You didn't!" The minister darted to the door and opened it. He peeked out and the noonday sun shined merrily through. The door was promptly slammed shut. "You must flee."

"Flee?!" Karl scratched his head. "Why would I-"

A rock burst through one of the stained glass windows. Three others followed suit. With a gasp, Reynold slid a wooden bolt across the door. It shuddered and the raucous sound of voices picked up. "A mob." The minister flung his back against the door. "You have to get out.."

Karl's jaw dropped. "It's noon. Who assembles a mob in the day?" He looked around the church and saw a small doorway behind the altar. He ran across the wooden floor, his boots stomping heavily as he fled. He kicked the door open; just in time to see over his shoulder the doorway give in and horde of well dressed, clean peasants enter, brushing aside the minister.

"There's the monster!" one of the men leading the crowd shouted.

Karl paused in his flight. "Monster? I'm here to kill the vampire!"

A roar of fury rose of from the crowd and they charged, funneling between the pews, and in some cases leaping over them. Karl turned and ran for his life. He entered a small hallway that branched off in two directions. Choosing the right path, he followed it to another door that was locked. He fumbled with the bolt, shaking as he heard the angry howls of the mob echoing behind him.

"This way!" a voice barked from behind him.

Karl opened the door and winced as sunlight partially blinded him. He stumbled into a small cemetery with polished headstones and fresh daisies over every mound of earth. Karl ran, darting around the stones. Something grabbed his leg.

"Ed's got him! That's the spirit man!" he heard from behind him.

Karl turned and gasped as he saw the mob spilling out of the doorway, charging like knights. He tried to stumble back, but his leg was held secure. He reached down to brush off whatever he had snagged himself on. He saw rising from the earth of a grave, a pair of skeletal hands clamped firmly about him. The crowd pounced upon Karl before he could scream.

Into the ground Karl was pushed. He felt kicks slamming into his ribs and one of the pretty women from before straddled him. She slapped at his face while shouting curses. Karl's head lolled and as his vision began to darken, he read the name on the tombstone, ‘Edward Mozier 1552-1603'. The last thing he remembered was Ed's hands grasping his head.

#

Pain came to his entire body. But to feel pain, he had to be alive and Karl was thankful for that. He opened his eyes and tried to move, but found his limbs secured by rope. He was lying on a freshly cobbled street, which wound its way into a misty set of tree-lined hills. It was night, and the moon shone from above while a mob, wielding torches milled about him.

Karl groaned.

"Good timing, you assassin," one of the townsfolk said.. He wandered over and kicked him once. "He's coming to see you."

He winced at the kick and remained still upon the cobbled road. He heard the clip-clop of hooves and from the curtain of mist, a rider emerged. He was tall, with swept back hair the color of midnight, skin the pallor of snow, and a horse that lacked any flesh at all. Like Ed, it was all bones. Karl was too tired to object beyond a whimpering cry.

The rider's undead horse halted and he hopped off to the resounding cheers of the town. He waved, shook a few hands and wandered over to Karl. The vampire's hands rested on his hips and he smiled, revealing long fangs.

"They cannot win fairly, so they send a thug like you?" He turned his gleaming red eyes onto the assembled folk of Grossheim. "My people, fear not. He has failed and it is a sign of your oppressor's desperation. In a week, they will be no more and Grossheim will be in my capable hands." He smiled and added, "If you so choose."

They cheered.

The vampire knelt and gripped Karl by the hair. "Tell me, mortal." He leaned in and his breath was frosty, despite the summer night. "What did they offer you?"

Shaking, Karl said softly, "Three hundred thalers."

The creature gently ran his clawed fingers along Karl's neck. "How barbaric of them." He opened his mouth wide, and the fangs elongated.

                                                                      ***

Karl entered the audience hall, limping slightly. He looked at the morning light, peeking its way through the windows before he nodded to the three elders at the table.

"It's damnable early to meet, Herr Rospwhit," von Koch said. He rubbed his oversized jaw. "But is it done?"

The wrinkled, old von Jein smiled and the jewelry loving von Huber smiled with palpable anticipation.

Karl glanced behind him. True to his word, the future mayor of Grossheim had arranged for the guards to shut the doors upon his entering the room.. It was just the four of them. Karl nodded and let out a sigh. "Almost."

"We woke up for almost?" von Koch stood.

Karl drew his sword and with his other hand produced his pistol. He fired the flintlock once and watched as a look of horror spread across von Koch's broad face. The heavy man collapsed.

Von Jeim hobbled out of his chair, but Karl easily bounded up to the man. With a slide of his blade he cut the elder's hamstrings. The man fell to his knees with a gasp, and in a quick spin, Karl's blade sliced through his neck.

The remaining man shook and shrunk into his seat. "What is this? Why? What are you doing?"

He stepped towards von Huber. "Mr. Mayor offered me a thousand thalers." Karl drove his blade through the man's open mouth. He drew the blade free and watched as the old man tumbled out of his seat, gurgling. The vampire had been right. Monster hunting was a barbaric sport of the 17^th century. If a man were to make a living off his wits and blade, the 18^th century was all about being a mercenary.