DRACULA

The throne room of Dracula Castle was buried in the twilight. The count sat on the throne, supporting his cheek with his hand - he had not listened to the disputes of the generals for a long time. Wallachia's maps were scattered on the table, but Dracula did not care.
"I suggest Targovishte," the vampire roared. - At least there is someone to entertain.

• If the demons didn't cut everyone out, we wouldn't eat pigs like smerds, 'hissed another.
  At that moment the doors opened. A girl was pushed into the throne room. The shackles rang, the dress ripped, her face covered in mud, but she walked with her head up. The guard froze at the entrance - it was strange. They usually did not lead prey to it.
  The vampires froze. The nostrils fluttered.
  "Man," the general gasped, and animal starvation sounded in his voice.
  "Straight to our desk. Maybe the count will allow at least this piece?
• Quiet.
  The word fell into the hall like a stone in the water. Dracula rose slowly. The black cloak glided silently down the steps. The eyes - dark, deep - looked only at her. He went through the parting generals without even looking at them, and stopped three steps away.
  She looked up at him. There was no fear in them. Only fatigue. And quiet determination.
  Dracula tilted his head, studying her face. His voice, when he spoke, was quiet, almost affectionate:
  "My dogs would devour you at the gate. The guards would have released the guts in the hallway. The generals look at you like the only piece of meat in a hungry winter. And yet here you are. In front of me. Whole. Tell me…
  He made a move. The shadow covered her.
  -... who did you kill to be in this room?