There once was a very large mansion that sat atop a very large hill in the middle of a very large forest. A modest village thrived nearby, only a short carriage ride away, but every person in the village was terrified of the mansion. Anyone who wasn't terrified simply wasn't old enough to be told to stay away from that place, for it was dangerous, the elders said. That was the home of a vicious, blood-sucking, wicked vampire, and the only reason the entire village didn't pack up their bags and flee was that they feared it would be a great insult to the vampire. After all, it was his domain, and surely if he was angered they would all suffer. So they kept their heads low, going about their business, muttering in low whispers about their awful tyranny, which, in all frank honesty, they had imagined. If they had actually used their wits instead of their fear, they would have understood that no one had ever actually been attacked by the vampire – much fewer had even seen him.