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<span class="mu-i"> ''You have a point; there's something fishy about this.'' </span> Your daughter had warned you about the coming of vampires, but you doubted they would come this early, and Schmallhausen and Merckhayn were seen in the broad daylight.
But that doesn't mean that there isn't something off. One peasant goes missing in the forest; it's not that big a deal. They got eaten by a bear or a pack of wolves. But if they start to disappear without a trace in that short of a timetable, there is an actual problem.
<span class="mu-i"> "Indeed, I am too old to investigate myself, but I don't like this; I don't like this one bit." </span>
<span class="mu-i"> ''The home fiefs of neither Schmallhausen nor Merckhayn are nearby; they live further up north, but that doesn't explain what they were doing around the Chold, which is to their south and outside their families' fiefdoms.'' </span> You decided to pool what knowledge you had with Count von Hoenstein, though neither of you came to any realistic or plausible conclusion.
<span class="mu-i"> ''I suppose I should take a look at it when I pass through there, but the next stop will be with the burgrave von Dornheim. I will enquire there as well, though I don't think there will be many clues there.'' </span> You said, and the two of you retired to your respective chambers.
You didn't really know what or why these two suddenly appeared around the Rieswald and the river Chold, but you had the feeling these two had something to hide.
But you put it on later; you would need to go south before you would need to go north of where you personally were, and so you continued on to your next destination close to the Mozolavian border, where the von Dornheims were tasked with guarding the border. The Dornheims had a reputation for their gruff, if not insubordinate, demeanour; it would usually be their way or the highway, and they had been fierce critics of you in the past years. Though their loyalty was never in doubt.
But while you were travelling, there was one strange thing: a monk, dressed in whites and blacks and seemingly alone, walked on the road with a stride that seemed purposeful and determined. He walked on, not bothering to greet or hail whoever came across his path. He continued on, with surprising speed for his age. Going off to wherever he went before he disappeared up the woodland trail. There was something strange; monks don't travel alone, not for such great distances, and they usually greet when they pass by.
Nevertheless, you arrived at the castle of the Dornheims, which was a large fieldstone construction with post-and-beam-style compartments on the inside. The burgrave, a middle-aged man with great sideburns of a dark blonde, greeted you in a gruff but welcoming manner.
>I trust the border is well, von Dornheim?
>It is good to finally see you again. I don't think you have made many appearances at court?
>Have you by any chance seen a bald man in monks' robes cross the border?
