Prologue
A Manifesto
The people of Андерхил (Anderhil) have sacrificed our blood of Christ again and again without fault or retrospection. For two years we have allowed the Vampyres in the hills to dictate our freedoms, our movements, our religion.
We were a proud people once, full of life and culture. Our forefathers fought the Ottomans with valour and dignity, and even now we hear tales of conflict with the Ottoman Imperials from traders in our village. The fight for determinism exists beyond the principality we Serbs carved out forty years ago.
Perhaps then the people of Anderhil became too complacent, or we longed to be under another’s boot, to be met with tooth and claw instead of iron and arrow. While others secure their future, fight and die for it, we hide like cowards. Once a month, we willingly give our blood to these monsters. They do not give us the dignity of stalking us in the night; instead, they offer us a false freedom. Give them blood, and they will secure trade in our village, make us prosper.
Were we not fine before they demanded this of us? Times were hard, and illness rampant, but we were free to control our own bodies. Will you not join me in fighting for our blood, our souls?
