Disclaimer: Frictional Games owns it all; I only wish I did.

1.
A Letter

Dear Ms Kesler,

This letter is to inform you that you have been traced as the only remaining descendant of the Freiherr Alexander von der Brennenburg, and as such you have claim on property in the German state of Mecklenburg-Vorpommern. The property has been in the care of a regent since the disappearance of the Freiherr over a century ago, and if it is not claimed, it will become the property of the state and will almost certainly be condemned.

We would like to discuss this with you at the earliest possible time, preferably face to face. We would like you to visit our partners in Germany and see the property for yourself. If you need assistance with travel arrangements, we will be glad to offer any help that may be needed.

Sinserely,
Schuster and Kappal Law Firm

I stared in mute surprise down at the typewritten letter that I held in my hand. Me? Have property? In Germany? I read the letter again, wondering if this was an elaborate prank set up by some of the goofballs I worked with, though it didn't seem like something they would do. The letter was neatly printed on creamy high quality paper, and the letterhead was stamped with the image of a stylized black eagle, holding a wreath of laurels in one claw and a scepter in the other, and surrounded by the words Suum Cuique. I didn't have the slightest idea what they meant, but it was obvious a motto of some kind. The envelope was made out of the same paper and addressed to me: Alexandra Kesler, Dante, South Dakota, USA.

I walked back into the house and dropped the rest of the mail on the kitchen counter before sitting down at the table with the letter. I supposed that it wasn't out of the realm of possibility that I had property in Germany, since it was obvious from my surname that I was German descent. My however many times great grandparents could have been landowners, and wealthy ones too, if the letter was any indication. Of course that just made me wonder what was going on that they felt the need to leave it all behind and come here. Maybe they had been just one branch of the family, and the rest had stayed behind, and now the branches that stayed had died out?

I didn't know, and it was unlikely that I would get to find out. My family had once been farmers, but a several year long drought during my grandparents' time had put an end to that. The land that comprised the fields had been sold to pay of debt, and they had only kept the house and the outbuildings surrounding it. My parents had had me late in life, so I had only been four when my grandparents died within a month of each other. My parents had died when I was 19. So I had inherited a drafty old farmhouse a few collapsing outbuildings, and the barn that had housed horses and cattle until the 1950's.

Speaking of drafty old farmhouse... I felt the draft that smelled of water and earth blow through the dining room just before the skies opened up and rain began hammering down on the roof. The place was in need of major work: new windows and doors and a new roof to start, but I just didn't have the money. It was a struggle to come up with the money to pay the property taxes every year. A better paying job would have helped out greatly, but that would have required moving to another town, one with a population well over Dante's 84 people, and that would have required leaving the very house I was trying to save.

So needless to say, dropping everything to go to Europe was out of the question, though I was really curious about the property the letter mentioned. Ah well, I thought as I skimmed over the letter one last time, best forget about; it's not like I would ever get to see it. I stood up to throw the letter in the trash when I spotted something that I hadn't noticed before. A telephone number, and I thought of that one sentence in the letter: "If you need assistance with travel arrangements, we will be glad to offer any help that may be needed."

Well, it couldn't hurt to ask, could it?

Since it was nearly six in the afternoon, I figured it was too late to call, since I knew that Germany is several time zones ahead. I put the letter aside, and went about making supper, planning to call the following day.

OOOOOO

Real life, unfortunately, got in the way, and it wasn't until nearly a week later, that I was able to pick up the phone. Wincing at the price of an international telephone call, I dialed the number on the letter and listened to it ring. On the fourth ring, it was picked up.

"Hello?" a voice said in heavily accented English, which made me think it strange that a German law firm would answer the phone in English. I also thought it strange that they answered with a casual phone greeting instead of the name of their firm or something.

"Hello? This is Alexandra Kesler. I received a letter from your office last week about some property."

"Oh yes, Ms Kesler!" The voice on the other end sounded oddly relieved. "We were beginning to worry that you weren't going to respond. I am very pleased to be hearing from you."

"What can you tell me about this property?"

"Are you planning to come and visit it?

What the hell? "I can't. I don't have that kind of money, but I am curious about it."

"There is some money tied up in the estate! We would be more than happy to assist you in coming over here!"

Red flags were starting to go up at this man's eagerness. "My family has been farmers for generations. How can a farm family have that kind of property and money in Europe without it being swallowed up by taxes?"

"It is a very large estate. Alexander von der Brennenburg was a Freiherr, or a Baron to use the English term, and while much of it has been lost to taxes and such, a large portion of it still remains."

This Alexander guy must have been loaded for any of it to remain after so long. "So there is enough to get me there and back?"

"Oh yes! There is plenty! Enough for you to easily visit here for a few weeks. There would likely be a bit left over afterwards."

Ka-ching! He had said the magic words. I could use what was left to fix my house! This was sounding better all the time, but I had to make sure.

"Are you absolutely sure you got the right person? Kesler is not exactly an uncommon surname here."

"Our genealogy people did the legwork. I could email you their notes so you can see for yourself, if you like?"

"Yes, please." I gave him my email address.

"We would like you to visit as soon as possible, Ms Kesler. When would be the best time for you?"

"I'd have to arrange for time off work, and I don't know how quickly I could get it."

"With the money left over from the estate, you'll be able to quit your job for a while."

The red flags were going up again with the guy's eagerness to get me over there, but by then my curiosity had gotten the better of me, so I ignored them. I had no intention of quitting my job however, in case things didn't pan out.

We talked for a few more minutes, and I told him that I would speak to my supervisor at work and get back to him. Barely an hour later, the promised email arrived in my inbox, so I sat down at the computer to look it over.

Alexander von der Brennenburg had one child, a son, by a woman named Gisela Schmidt. Gisela died shortly after the birth, and the infant was given over to the care of Jens Bauer, a farmer from the nearby village of Altstadt, and his wife, Hannah. The couple than quietly left the area with their new son. Alexander, apparently, did not object to his son's departure.

There were immigration records of Jens, Hannah, and baby Anselm Bauer arriving in New York in the early spring of 1839. From there the paper trail followed them as they settled in the Manhattan area briefly before packing up and moving to what is now South Dakota. Obscure birth records took over from there, tracing through Anselm, his son, Wilhelm, and then to Wilhelm' son, Gabriel. Gabriel's only child, a daughter that was named Ella, was born in 1902, and in 1919, she married another German immigrant, Hans Kessler, and their son August, my grandfather. was born the following year. Gramps married my grandmother, Mary, in 1936, and he dropped an "s" from his name for no apparent reason. My dad, Mathew Kesler, was born in 1937. The farm went bust in 1952 due to drought, and over the next several months, large parcels of the land were sold. Dad married my mom, Sarah in 1972, when they were 35 and 30 respectively, but it wouldn't be until 1980 that I was born. So all that made me Alexander's great-great-great-great-great granddaughter.

So it seemed that the law people did have the right person. And they really wanted me to come over there. I was curious why Alexander gave up his only child so easily, but I noted that the mother had a different surname. Did that mean that Anselm was illegitimate? That certainly would explain it. I knew enough about nobility to know that having a child out of wedlock was a huge no-no in those days. So Alexander got rid of his son to save his own skin? Well at least he did it the humane way instead of throwing it out into the woods to die or something.

My thoughts were so busy running around in circles over all I had learned that it took me forever to fall asleep that night.

OOOOOO

I sat straight up in bed, bathed in cold sweat, gasping for air. I reached out with one shaking hand and turned my bedside lamp on. I'd had the most vivid nightmare of me dragging myself along a cold stone floor, with only the occasional flickering torch for light. I couldn't breathe, and I had been in excruciating pain and acutely aware of my own blood dripping from multiple wounds onto the floor. The entire time I could hear someone shouting, calling my name, demanding that I stop and wait for them, and I knew that doing so would be a massive mistake.

I shuddered and pulled my knees up to my chest. I didn't need that kind of nightmare, (Did anybody, really?) especially when I was seriously considering going to another country. Had the dream been a warning against going?

Help me...

I shuddered again and laid back down, leaving the light on. I didn't sleep the rest of the night.

OOOOOO

The next day at work, I spoke to the boss, who grudgingly gave me a couple weeks unpaid leave. I winced at the though of not drawing a check for a short while, but I shoved it down. The mysterious German property had me really curious. I would have to work nine straight days before I left, as well as when I came back, to do it though.

The sacrifices one will make...

Not even the thought of financial wreckage could keep the grin off my face that day however. I went through the first part of the day as cheerful as could be, which prompted a few of my coworkers to ask what I was smoking and if they could have some. Of course, Evan, the European history buff among us, just had to pop my balloon.

"Brennenburg?" he asked over lunch. "I've heard of him. Are you sure you want to be related to him?"

I felt my happy place just curl up and die then. "Why?" I asked warily.

"So I guess the people at the law office failed to tell you that he was known as the Vampire of Brennenburg?"

"No way!" I and several others said at the same time.

Evan nodded. "Yes way. Some say he lived for 300 hundred years in his castle, never marrying or having children -"

"That second part's obviously not true." Jason, another coworker, said with a laugh as he slapped me on the back.

Evan nodded in agreement and continued. "The family kept their marriages and birth so secret, that the locals had nothing to do but make the stuff up themselves. We do know that for the 300 or so years that the Brennenburg family ruled over the area, hundreds, maybe thousands, of people vanished in the area around the castle, never to be seen again."

"Oooh spooky!" someone commented in what they probably thought was a creepy voice.

"So what happened?" I asked, not sure if I wanted to know.

Evan shrugged and leaned back in his chair. "Alexander was a member of the Order of the Black Eagle, and several of the other members began whispering how he was the same Alexander that had fought alongside their fathers and grandfathers. That, coupled with the unexplainable disappearances of so many people prompted the Prussian king, Frederick William III, to send his men to either capture Alexander if they could, or kill him if they couldn't."

"And?" I prompted.

"And nothing. When they got there, Alexander was gone, and the castle was falling apart, like something massive had started to tear it down. Villagers reported that a young man from England had come to the castle a couple weeks before, but there was no sign of him either."

Evan grinned, winked at me, and then got up from his chair and left the room.

"Hey!" I called after him "That can't be all of it!"

"All I know!" he called back, and I sat back in my chair, grumbling about being left hanging.

"Better watch out, Lexy." Jason commented "Grandpa vants to suck your blood!"

"What is this?" I groaned "Dracula? And don't call me Lexy."

"Whatever you say, Lexy."

"That's it." I said as I waved my fork at him threateningly. "You're a dead man. Maybe I'll take you with me, introduce you to Grandpa's torture chamber."

Jason cracked up and ran out of the room, and the rest of us laughed as we went back to work.

OOOOOO

I called the law firm the following morning before I went to work for the day, and the man I spoke to, the same one I had spoken to before, was very excited to hear that I was coming. He said he arrange for a plane ticket to take me to Germany and a car to take me to Brennenburg once the plane had landed and call me with the details later. Later, he called me on my cell phone at work and gave me the details.

I would fly out from Sioux Gateway Airport in Sioux City at nine in the morning on August 2nd which would take me to Minneapolis-Saint Paul International Airport in Minnesota. From there I would catch another flight to JFK International Airport in New York. From there it would be a transatlantic flight straight to Berlin. Walther Schuster, whose family had been caring for Brennenburg Castle (Holy hell, I owned a castle!) since Alexander's disappearance would meet me there and drive me the rest of the way.

I hung up the phone and looked up at the calendar. It was July 26th, I had seven days to wait, and I just knew that those seven days were going to be the longest of my life.

If I had known what was coming, I would have never answered the phone that day.