With a skeptical brow raised, the count begrudgingly sipped from a glass of Coca-Cola, a recently invented American beverage vastly different from the Romanian wines of his cellar. “Passable,” he muttered under his breath, with a reluctant nod, betraying centuries of noble pride. Yet, as the night unfolded, a subtle smile crept over his pale face.
He looked over to his guest, sitting opposite him on an old wooden chair. A traveler from a far away land, lost in these dark forests in this dark and stormy night, glad to have been given shelter. The man - he could not be older than thirty - had bowed profusely after his rescue from the elements.
“I could never repay you completely for you help, but may I offer you a small token of thanks for your kindness? It’s a game from my home, quite simple to play, it would be an honor to teach you. I have not seen its likeness in these lands, so it might offer you a sliver of fresh entertainment.”