For weeks, the Kingdom of Eira had been buzzing with frightening rumors about a ’vampire eater.’ The na sounded strange, but it fit the mysterious figure causing chaos—at least until the Royal Guards could catch whoever was responsible.
The first incident took place far from the royal palace. The only witness was a drunken man. When he shared what he’d seen at a tavern, no one took him seriously.
After all, who would believe a drunkard’s tale? But when the constables investigated the area, fear started to spread.
A week later, the second incident happened closer to the capital. This ti, a young girl stumbled across a dried-up vampire while gathering plants in the woods with her parents.
She ran ho to tell everyone, but her neighbors and friends called her a liar. Even her parents’ support couldn’t make people believe her story.
The idea was unbelievable. Vampires were known for drinking blood to survive, yet soone—or sothing—was leaving them lifeless, like hollow shells.
It was unlike anything the kingdom had ever seen, and the thought of it chilled everyone to the bone.
The third incident happened just five days after the second, this ti in an alleyway in the poorer district of the capital. Fear began to take hold of the public. Many people stayed indoors, avoiding their usual outings with friends and family.
So rchants closed their shops early to avoid the deserted streets, and the markets saw fewer visitors, which hurt business.
The working class, however, had little choice but to venture out to earn money and feed their families, even as anxiety gripped them.
In contrast, the aristocrats continued their routines mostly unaffected. rchants often delivered goods directly to their estates, and when last-minute errands were needed, servants handled them.
The upper district of the capital remained lively, with noblen and won strolling about, shopping for fine dresses, jewelry, and shoes. At night, the area ca alive with vampires, their presence as common as ever.
But that changed with the fourth incident. The ’vampire eater’ grew bolder, striking in a more public and prominent place.
This ti, the victim was a well-known dressmaker. She was attacked early in the morning, just as she was about to open her shop. Her lifeless, bloodless body was discovered right outside her store.
After that, the kingdom fell into chaos. Nobles with ties to officials close to the king rallied them to speak out about the events.
"The northern nobles went to see Margrave Hector to pressure the crown about this," reported Margrave Boris. "anwhile, the southern nobles pushed Count Walter and Landgrave Magnus to deal with the so-called ’vampire eater.’"
King Valentin felt a headache coming on. A few days ago, it had been the council urging him to act. Now even the nobles were demanding action.
"Vampire eater?" The king raised an eyebrow.
"That’s what the newspapers are calling the vampire killer, Your Majesty," Margrave Boris explained.
King Valentin pressed his lips into a thin line. He wasn’t a man of many words, and today was no different. Despite the storm of worries and thoughts swirling in his mind, he said nothing.
But Margrave Boris understood him without needing an explanation. As the king’s closest aide, he knew the Royal Guards were working day and night to catch the culprit.
Inside the palace, however, the king had another problem to deal with. His nephew—or to be exact, the son of the late queen, though Margrave Boris was unaware of this—had been stirring up trouble in various ways.
Margrave Boris pressed his lips together, debating whether to share more troubling news about Florian or hold back for now.
He could wait until the vampire eater was caught, but there was no telling how long that would take—and the matter with Florian couldn’t be delayed.
Despite knowing the king already had enough to handle, Boris had no choice but to speak.
"Yesterday, just before sunset, Florian nearly strangled a servant in the servant’s quarters. He was muttering his sister’s na while gripping her neck."
King Valentin’s gaze snapped up. His eyes widened with worry, though his voice remained calm, weighed down by exhaustion. "Again? And the servant?"
"She’s alive, but her neck is bruised. The poor girl was so shaken she begged to let her go, refusing any compensation. She only asked for a recomndation letter to find work elsewhere."
Working in the royal palace was a dream for most—whether lower nobility or commoners. The competition was fierce, and once hired, most served for life. To quit was rare, and to leave after only a few years was unheard of.
Yet, ever since Florian’s return to the palace, staff turnover in the northern tower—where he resided—had soared.
Florian had originally stayed in the eastern tower, which was dedicated to cater to male family mbers, but his constant disruptions, so even interfering with the king’s governance, forced his relocation to the northern tower.
This area, ant for guests, now housed only Florian.
With no one else to serve, the tower’s staff had to face him daily. Even those handling his als struggled with his unpredictable tantrums. It was taking a toll on everyone assigned to that part of the palace.
"Alright, I’ll deal with him later," King Valentin said, his tone steady but tired. "Right now, I need to focus on the attacks on our citizens. I can’t let the kingdom remain in constant unrest."
Margrave Boris, however, couldn’t let it go. "Your Majesty, I’m afraid the issue with Florian needs imdiate attention because..."
He hesitated, watching the king’s expression. When King Valentin remained impassive, Margrave Boris continued, "The servants are threatening to quit. None of them wants to handle the northern tower, and they’re afraid it’s only a matter of ti before they’re reassigned there."
Rumors about Florian’s behavior had spread like wildfire among the staff. Though most had never dealt with him directly, gossip has a way of snowballing. Each retelling made the stories darker, turning Florian into an almost mythical source of terror.
The fear among the servants was different from the panic gripping the kingdom, but it ran just as deep.
"Double their pay," the king said after a mont’s thought. "Promise them they’ll stay in their current posts and won’t be moved to the northern tower."
It sounded like a wise decision—if only it were that simple. Margrave Boris shifted uncomfortably, his dissatisfaction evident.
"What?" King Valentin glared at him. "What’s on your mind?"
Margrave Boris swallowed hard before answering, "Your Majesty, that won’t work. Doubling their pay will strain the palace budget."
The king raised an eyebrow, his confusion tinged with irritation. "Are you telling the palace is broke? How many servants are complaining about this?"
"All of them, Your Majesty," Boris admitted.
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