"You must be him." A voice called out. The captain of the guard, Gaspard, gripped his sheathed rapier as he approached the giant of a man. The orange-haired foxkin watched the fur-cloaked giant cautiously. Behind him, his guardsmen watched far away in silence. Ian's sunken cheeks quickly transformed as a disarming smile overtook his face.

"Who might I have the pleasure to be speaking with?" Ian asked as he gave a small half-bow. Gaspard snorted at his behavior.

"Careful. Manners are an unknown custom here. You might spook the locals." Ian laughed awkwardly.

"Such is not my intention. Please believe me."

"I am Gaspard, captain of the guard. And you." The orange-haired foxkin pointed towards the man. "Shouldn't be here. Should you?"

"No. I shouldn't, but still, here I am." Drawing himself up regally, Ian von Richter's back popped several times. Towering over the guard captain, his smoldering dark eyes regarded the foxkin as he spoke. "I am Ian von Richter. Wearer of the von Richter family. Herald of Gris. I have come on official business to discuss the disappearance of a certain lady."

Gaspard clicked his tongue in annoyance. He stopped for a moment to look around. Curious onlookers watched the guard captain waiting for his next move.

"I don't get paid enough to deal with your kind. Come. You'll meet with Javert. Discuss your investigation with him."

"I'm afraid you have me at a disadvantage. Who is this Javert?"

"The ruler of Hueryss. Now come. You're scaring the townsfolk." Gaspard said with an annoyed sigh. Spinning on his heels he started walking towards the castle in the center of the city.

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The central castle of Hueryss was surrounded by a smaller defensible wall and moat. Surrounding the castle's defenses, training yards filled with various city guards and glory-seeking beastkin fell into a steady rhythm of war. Swords, spears, bows, and axes swung with steady times at the bark of nearby instructors. The various schools of warriors each competed to outshine their competitors.

Ian von Richter walked slowly. His long legs carried him forward with great strides as his cold breath met the warm spring air. His dark eyes drunk in every detail of the city, as his head swiveled around. Gaspard looked straight ahead, ignoring the gawking citizens.

"You ain't sick are you?" Gaspard asked.

"No. No. Nothing like that. I have always 'run cold' as they say. Especially around my family." Ian replied with an awkward laugh.

"You look half-dead." A smile of genuine happiness warped his sunken cheeks.

"I shall accept your compliment with utmost respect." Ian replied. "Although, probably unintended, you have paid me such welcome praise to a lingering such as myself."

"That wasn't my intention." Gaspard gruffed.

The two passed the inner wall, into the castle proper. Impenetrable hard gray stone made up its surface. Four large towers dominated each point of the square perimeter.

"Now, let's find the boss. Usually he's training at this time." Gaspard said. "Don't let any of these idiots goad you into a fight. No matter what they say."

"It is good for a king to be strong. The people rally to strength. Does he train regularly?"

"He isn't a king. Only an elector prince. He trains all the time. All he cares about is fighting. Try not to get swept up in his momentum." Gaspard said with a weary sigh.

Following the walls, the two walked within the expansive courtyard towards a large practice field. A large crowd of shirtless beastkin had formed a ring around two large wrestlers. One of the wrestlers was a hulking mass of bulging muscle. The other was a smaller orange-haired foxkin, looking almost identical to Gaspard. Ian's tall stature peered above the throng. Rippling pectorals, bounced sweat off the fighter's muscles. Their legs pushed against the sand as their arms strained to purchase leverage over their opponent. The crowd of onlookers cheered them on.

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Suddenly the smaller wrestler broke free of his opponent's grip. Ducking underneath his arms, he tackled the behemoth to the sand. The crowd cheered.

"Ah. There he is." Gaspard said dejectedly.

"Oh? Where?"

"On top of him." Gaspard pointed to the toned foxkin wrestler. His hair was a flaming orange. His body chiseled to marble like perfection. Gaspard cupped his hands to his mouth before yelling above the crowd. "Javert! We have a visitor!"

"Gaspard?!" The foxkin wrestler jumped to his feet, scanning the crowd. The fight stopped instantly, as the elector prince of Hueryss saw Gaspard.

"Gaspard! Just the man I wanted to see! Come to join us for a tussle?!" Javert joked. The prince walked with natural grace. His electric yellow eyes fixated on his target. The crowd of warriors parted naturally for their ruler. A new pair of wrestlers went down to the center of the ring.

"Damn you're tall. Another human? Where are y'all coming from? Did you get stabbed? Why are you so pale?" Javert asked casually as he exited the ring of fighters.

"Elector Prince Javert. A pleasure to meet you. My name is Ian von Richter. Wielder of the von Richter family. Herald of Gris." Ian von Richter said with a deep formal bow. Javert's smile instantly vanished.

"Where'd you find him?" Javert asked with a snarl. "He smells like a crypt. I don't like dead things."

"Wandering the streets. He say's he's looking for someone." Javert placed his hands on his hips. The crowd of wrestlers were no longer watching their competition. They turned away from the fighting ring forming up behind their leader.

"Yes, a certain lady. I was hoping to find her and bring her home."

"Why is he speaking to me? You handle missing persons!" Javert snapped. Gaspard rolled his eyes. He motioned for Ian to speak up.

"I am searching for Lady Lilly von Erwenhest II. Her last known whereabouts are of this city. She is of vampiric persuasion and as such is nobility of Gris. Her mother Rose von Erwenhest very much desires for her immediate return to the lands of the dead." Javert moved closer to the pale cold man. Ian's dark feverish eyes watched with patience as the prince approached.

"If I knew she was, I'd kill her myself. Your kind is never welcome in these lands. This is our land. You should crawl back to the mountains." He grabbed the herald by the fur coat, pulling him closer. His muscles strained against his skin. A deep growl shook his diaphragm as his yellow eyes fixated upon his prey before him.

"That is unfortunate. We were hoping you'd be amenable to our mission."

"Who is this 'we'?" Javert growled.

"My family and the von Erwenhest family. We both wish to see a peaceful resolution. No doubt the smallfolk would appreciate a vampire's disappearance." Ian smiled wanly in an attempt to de-escalate the conversation.

"That bitch, came to my city. Attacked it, searching for the goddesses' own champion. Hoping to kill him on my watch! In my city!"

"It is rather unfortunate. Violence only begets more violence, certainly a peaceful resolution is warranted to such a tale? Perhaps we can both walk away?"

"Do you think I'm afraid of a little bit of violence? Do I look like a weak mewling kitten to you? Look behind me. I have warriors. I have steel. I have faith. Tell me why shouldn't I rip that big head off of your shoulders?"

The air grew cold around Ian. The tall man's body began to vibrate. Metal trinkets, talismans, and jewelry jingled uncontrollably. A disappointed frown wormed over his face.

"My family wouldn't like that."

"Fuck your family, tall man. I'll kill you if you piss me off again." Javert growled. He pulled his hand back, as his fist formed. A spectral hand shot out from an exposed gold locket reaching for Javert's wrist.

"You dare attack my beautiful son?!" A spectral woman screamed in Javert's face. His arm went cold as the ghost held onto him.

"Mother.... Please." Ian von Richter pleaded.

"Dear! Calm down. They were still posturing!" A deep voice from a heavily mustached ghost appeared from a ruby ring on Ian's left hand.

"I don't care! He was about to attack! He was going to hurt my precious baby boy!" The woman wailed.

"Calm down! Calm down! The living hate seeing us! It is inappropriate for us to appear during diplomatic negotiations! Negotiations will fail if we don't return!"

"Diplomacy has failed!" the woman wailed. "Let me eat his soul!"

"Diplomacy has failed?" An elderly specter asked, as he popped into existence from a golden warg tooth. "Why are you spouting such nonsense woman! They haven't even stabbed each other yet!"

"Grandfather, don't. Everyone please calm down." Ian said with a weary sigh.

Javert let go of Ian. A look of disgust became fully apparent on his face.

"Leave! Never return! Hueryss does not welcome the dead! Go back to your stolen lands!" Javert commanded, with a grunt he freed his arm from the spectral woman.

"Lord Javert. Please, listen." Ian said wearily.

"Speak up boy. He'll never listen if you don't project!" Ian's ghostly father chided.

"I am trying!" Ian protested.

"No you weren't boy! Why, back in my day negotiations started with a good 'ole knife fight!"

"Everyone please!"

"I will hear no more of your words!" Javert roared. "Speak again, and I shall have your head!"

Ian moved to speak, but something held him back. A stubborn desire to see his mission through filled him. He would try another way. He would try to beseech the lord another day. He would return laden with gold and gifts to entreat an emperor. He would find the vampire. Time was on his side. His training prepared him for the initially hostile. Ian von Richter would not shame his family.