[b]Graafenschloss Veresegyházhof, Province of Amstetten-Szatmár-Bereg, Asmeinland[/b]
[i]18th November, 1306 AS[/i]

A chill hung in the midnight air, eerie moonlight illuminating the stone-paved courtyard of Graafenschloss Veresegyházhof, picking out servants and soldiers as they rushed back and forth across the castle grounds, fetching provisions and equipment and loading it methodically into chests and crates lashed securely to the roof and rear of a jet-black dormeuse, its small windows covered with curtains of dark crimson velvet and the Count's coat of arms affixed to the side in intricately engraved silver; a bat extending its leathery wings across a dark shield topped with a knight's helmet, all above a swirling banner emblazoned with the words [i]'Nox Sine Fine'[/i]. Hitched to the carriage were two similarly black horses, their manes decorated with feathered plumes of deep red. A third horse stood a short distance away, a taller, altogether more formidable beast outfitted in masterfully forged steel barding, its metallic faceplate forming an angry glare as it stamped its hooves impatiently against the ground. 

The servants' activity slowed as the last few bits and pieces were loaded on board, and they halted their now-complete work just as the castle door swung open, the gargantuan slab of iron-banded wood coming to a rest with a deep thud. The chill seemed to intensify, a biting wind blowing through the courtyard, making lamps and torches flicker and throw wild patterns of shadow up the thick fortress walls. Silhoutted in the doorway, the soft orange glow of candlelight at his back, Count Erwyn stood, observing. Moving slowly down the wide stone steps into the courtyard, his footsteps utterly silent, he made his way past a small row of armour-plated soldiers, who stood at attention as he strolled by them and on towards the dormeuse. Giving the vehicle and its cargo a quick inspection, he gave a satisfied nod. At once, one of the guardsmen barked a sharp command in the harsh, guttural Asmeinlander tongue, and the Count's staff rushed to business once more, a servant outfitted in a long travelling cloak hopping up into the driver's seat of the carriage, while two men-at-arms stepped up onto narrow platforms on the vehicle's side, grasping handholds with one hand and their vicious poleaxes with the other. Erwyn himself leapt effortlessly atop his armoured destrier, and with a quick jab from his spurs, the beast began to trot forward, the pair of cart horses following its lead as the short procession made its way under the still-opening portcullis, steel spikes missing the top of the speeding dormeuse by mere centimetres.

[hr][b]Amstetten, Province of Amstetten-Szatmár-Bereg, Asmeinland[/b]
[i]A few hours later[/i]

The city of Amstetten was as darkly beautiful as it was prosperous, a twisting maze of sharply-peaked roofs and tall, elegant spires sloping down towards the sea, which lapped gently against the towering harbour walls. Torches glowed softly on every street, and the sounds of music and laughter drifted up to the heavens, even at this late hour. Making their way through the centre of the thriving metropolis, the Count's small party drew no small degree of attention; citizens rising to their feet in gestures of respect, gangs of children running excitedly behind the carriage, a handful of angrily fearful glares as Erwyn and his men passed the narrow steps of a church of Solanius - the nobility and the priesthood in these lands had not been on the best of terms for many centuries now, for obvious reasons. Erwyn gave the clergymen a cheery wave from atop his steed in passing, and their glares only darkened.

Riding through the labyrinthine alleys for a few minutes longer, the Count and his men came to a halt outside a particularly grandiose building set back a little from the rest of the street, its pale stone edifice adorned with elaborate works of sculpture in the old Aesernian style, carved from marble and inlaid with shimmering gold. A plaque sat affixed to the wall beside the entranceway, bold text engraved into its golden surface; [i]"De Királyi Asmeiner Brandewijnhaus. 1084 Év Sol' Gevestigd. Mitglieder Csak."[/i] Erwyn dismounted his destrier, his calfskin boots landing silently on the cobbles, while his servant and soldiers hopped down from their own positions to take the horses' reins, and led the beasts around the side of the building where a row of hitching posts awaited. Giving a sharp rap on the solid mahogany door, the vampire waited for a second before a small panel opened up and a pair of beady eyes stared out at him. A moment later, the door swung slowly open, a short, portly man dressed in silken finery which made him look more comical than dignified holding the slab of wood aside to allow the Count to pass. Erwyn gave the man a polite nod as the door swung closed behind him. "Goed estét, András." The doorman, András, returned the gesture, bowing slightly as he did. "Goed estét, mein geschätzter Graaf." 

Continuing on, the vampire passed through the dark green velvet curtains that separated the entrance passage from the rest of the establishment, the soft sound of music drifting through as the fabric parted; an ethereal, breathy voice singing of lost loves and far-off lands over the delicate plucking of a lute, cutting through the murmurs of conversation and clinking of glasses. He stepped further into the cavernous, opulent room, strolling over to the elegant bar that dominated the far wall. Glancing around, he took in the details of the scene. Rows of tables and booths, surrounded by soft satin chairs, hosted an array of merchants, nobles, and other members of Amstetten's high society. Up high, in a small gallery, sat the singer, draped in translucent white silks and perched on a small stool as she crooned her gentle melody, even the harsh syllables of Asmeinspraak made beautiful by her elysian voice. The Count closed his eyes for a second, listening momentarily to the exquisite refrain, before returning his attention to the bar - and the pretty young barmaid who waited on the other side of it. She curtseyed reverently as she addressed him. "Een ehre zu látni, mein Graaf. What can I get you?"

Erwyn surveyed the shelves full of bottles and casks that lined the bar, eyes flicking over each handwritten label. "I think I shall have..." he gestured to a bottle, and the deep amber liquid visible inside. "The '23 Bács-Kiskun. With a few drops of the usual, bitte." He glanced about surreptitiously. "And may I speak with the owner?"

The barmaid smiled and nodded. "Of course, mein Graaf. I shall fetch Franziska - and your drink - at once." As she disappeared through a narrow doorway, Erwyn could hear her footsteps echoing hurriedly on a wooden staircase. A minute later, two sets of footsteps returned, and there was a soft clink as a bottle touched the rim of a glass. The barmaid re-emerged, setting an intricately filigreed snifter in front of the vampire, the golden brandy within stained by a swirl of crimson. The door opened again, and a second woman sidled over, placing a soft touch on the barmaid's shoulder to send her off to attend to other patrons. The new woman grinned as she hopped nimbly over the bar and perched on a stool beside the Count, flicking her flowing raven hair back aross her pale shoulders. "Erwyn!" she purred. "So good to see you, darling. It's been too long!"

The Count returned her grin, shifting his barstool a little closer. "It [i]has[/i] only been a week, Zissy - although I can assure you, a week without you felt like another eight centuries." He gave her a cheeky wink as he took a sip of his brandy.

"Turning on the charm already, are we?" With an alabaster hand, Franziska reached out and took the Count's glass, taking a delicate sip of the liquid within. Savouring the taste for a moment, she placed the snifter back down, leaning in and brushing her lips against Erwyn's for just a fleeting split-second. "Two can play at that game..." she whispered.

"We have time for games later, meine liebe," the Count replied in a low murmur, running his hand slowly along the woman's stockinged thigh. "For now, information. I must shortly depart once more, I'm afraid. I have business in the south, and I may be some time." He sipped his drink again, rolling the liquid around in his mouth for a second. "Have your little birds down there brought back any interesting news?"

Franziska let out an exaggerated groan. "Business it is then. Not that there's much, the southerners have been quiet these past few months. Well, comparatively quiet - Vittorio and Speziale are at each others' throats, as always. The eastern firefuckers make another unsuccessful push, face another half-hearted counter-attack, as always." She thought for a moment. "Oh, the Solanian Order seem a little more active down there now. By which I mean they're holding a feast down in Mirador, not actually doing any work, of course - although knowing that arrogant little band of murderous [i]szarik[/i], that may not be such a bad thing. Anyway, this feast... maybe you should go!"

Erwyn raised an eyebrow. "Perhaps I will. One must admit, there is a certain poetic irony in a being they despise so fervently feasting in their halls." He smirked, hand still resting on Franziska's leg. "Maybe you should come too!"

"I would love to, my darling Erwyn," responded the woman, running her fingers down the Count's cheek, "but I'm afraid my duties forbid me. The oldest and most exclusive drinking establishment in Amstetten doesn't run itself, you know." She leaned in close once more, a sultry smile forming on her scarlet lips. "Now, you've had your information - I believe you mentioned something about having time for games?"

The Count finished the last of his drink, sliding the glass back along the bar, and rose from his seat, taking Franziska's hand in his own. "I believe I did, my sweet Zissy; my journey can wait until the morning, at least. Shall we head upstairs and... play?" The woman slid from her own barstool, circling Erwyn before placing another kiss upon his lips. The two looked at each other, and for a moment both sets of pale grey eyes flashed crimson. Franziska giggled, and the two vampires made their way upstairs.