A pub in solitude, in the countryside of England, Victorian Era.

Days before his departure to Huffingham, a man sat in an empty pub, his head tilted, his eyes shut. It was a frigid night outside this ramshackle of a cottage turned pub; the pub owner knew this, and he made haste weaving in and around his establishment, tending the fire in the fire pit, and occasionally checking the sleeping man. Time seemed to come to a halt that night, and the pub owner was aware of this as well. He'd not wake the sleeping man, for who'd like to be awoken when in deep sleep. The pub owner sat, and waited, for a sound, for a movement, and with luck, a customer.

An hour has passed, and the pub owner was dozing off. He'd have no choice but to attempt to wake the sleeping man, but his conscious told him to get a bit of shut-eye. He'd just start to drift into sleep until he heard footsteps outside his establishment. By the half-light of a candle, dimmed and placed next to the entrance, he saw the door open, and eventually saw a man. The pub owner rose from his seat, and was exalted, radiating energy. Then another man came through the door, then a woman, then a group of men and women. 

"Fine night isn't it!" The pub owner asked, his voice coarse from weariness. 

The man who entered first turned his head towards the pub owner, then averted his eyes towards his group. "Yes, it would seem that it is a fine night." 

The pub owner smiled, and wiped his dirt stained face, "May I take your coats?" 
"No, you may not."

The pub owners eyes widened, "O-Oh.." He stuttered when alarmed, "Well then, c-can I offer you a drink?"
"No."

The pub owner arched his eyebrows, "Then, w-what can I help you with, sir?" 
"A meal," the man said. His group crept closer, cracking their necks, and licking their teeth.

The pub owner backed away, "I'm n-not looking for trouble!" 
"We are." It looked like the first man who entered was their leader, and he slid his finger across his throat. 

The pub owner walked backwards, and tripped, his back on a wall. He shut his eyes, "God help me!"
"He wont help at a time like this." The pub owner opened his eyes, for this voice was right next to him. The sleeping man was awoken, and pettish too. The man yawned, and lifted his arm, pointing it at the leader. A flash came out of the mans sleeve, and it found the leader, now with a hole in his face. The leader's subordinates were ravished, rushing towards the awoken man, fangs clear as day. The awoken man grabbed one of the subordinates, pulled him, and placed his hand on it's face. The creature shrieked and struggled, while his team stood watching. 

The pub owner stood up, and grabbed a stool for protection. He'd walk beside the awoken man, and hid. "I'm sorry I slept in your pub," The man said, the creature's head still in his grip. 
"I don't think this is the time to be apologizing!" 
"Oh right..." 

The man released the creature, and it plopped down onto the floor, dead. The once fired up group stood lifeless, one of them screaming, "Who is he?!" The group dispersed outside, and ran away. The man settled down onto the chair he slept on, "I think you should leave this place."
"What were t-those... things?!" The pub owner questioned.
"Vampires."
"Those exist?!" 
"Yes. So do werewolves, and demons, and vampire demons, and vampire werewolves, and werewolf demons, and... You get my point. They exist."
"I have nowhere to go?!" 
"Well don't go to Huffingham."
"What in the bloody hell is Huffingham!?"
"A place where you shouldn't go."
"Well why?!"
"Watch your tone."
"Answer me!"

The man stood from the chair, and scanned for food. "Do you have food?"
"Answer my bloody question!"
"Answer mine first."
"No."
"Well... Damn."
"Well why the hell shouldn't I go to bloody Huffingham?! I don't have anywhere else to go! So why not this place called Huffingham."
"The supernatural are attracted to the quaint, little, town. That's why it's called blood town for Christ's sake."
"Then where should I go?"
"Odd."
"What's odd?"
"You."
"How so?"
"Because instead of talking about your life threatening experience with vampires, you talk about a place to stay."
"Is it really that odd? Seriously now, are you listening to yourself? A normal person would be worried about his or her establishment, rather than some bloody supernatural event."
"No they wouldn't. A normal person would either be dead, or in shock. None of which you are experiencing."

The pub owner sat down on the floor, "Honestly now. Where should I go?"
"You should come with me."
"Where?"
"Huffingham."
"No."
"But not Huffingham strait away, but you should come with me."
The pub owner shrugged, "Where then?"
"You are joining the Ruby Edict."
"What is that?"
"It's basically a Royal Monster Hunting group."
"Royal?"
"Yes, royal." 
"How's the pay?"
"Good. Better than good actually."
The Pub owner widened his eyes, 
"Royal. Me, a poor boy, becoming royal! Have thy God saved me? Maybe I'm going insane, maybe I'm not. I'm thinking on a whim here so dammit, I'll join."
"Just like that?"
"Yes."
"Do you know what you'll be doing?"
"Hunting the supernatural of course!"
"Quick question.. How long have you been aware of the monsters that creep through the night?"
"Why only the moment you mentioned it, sir!"
"And you are serious about joining?"
"Yes!"
"Well then, I'm leaving soon, so pack your belongings and hurry."

The pub owner went into his room and grabbed his coat, "I'm ready."
"That's it?"
"I have no belongings."
"Interesting..."
"So let's go?"
"How old are you? 
"Nineteen."
"Your parents?"
"Both dead, I think. Or both alive, but what does it matter?"
"You realize you are heading down a dangerous path, young boy?"
"I do realize that, but I simply don't give a damn."
"Hmm.. Stark, I'll give you that."
"Before I embark on this... thing, with you. I still haven't got your name."
"Augustine. And you?"
"Samuel."
"Are you ready, Samuel?"
"More than ever."

The two leave the dilapidated cottage, and follow the road north, towards Ruby Castle.

Set in Victorian era England, in the quaint little town of Huffingham, appropriately named "Blood Town". Atrocities of life such as Vampires, Werewolves, and even Demons tend to be attracted to the small town, for reasons unknown. The townsfolk of Huffingham are not endangered, for they can hold their own against any monster. Even the fragile, old lady who sells flowers wears a rosary, and keeps a pouch full of silver bullets, and holy water nearby. Though as of 1 week ago, the attacks have been more frequent, and far too suspicious. Queen Victoria was informed, and too take no chances, she resurrected the idea of Royal Monster Hunters; they would be known as, "the Ruby Edict"