Emiel Regis, a wise and ancient High Vampire, stood behind the counter of his modest little shop in Dillingen, surrounded by countless bottles of colorful medicines, potions, potions, and bunches of dried herbs. The air was filled with the subtle aroma of medicinal herbs, and the cozy interior of the shop seemed like a sanctuary for those seeking relief from their ailments.

The day had been rather calm, and only a few peasants had stopped by the shop that day, so the healer spent most of the day replenishing the assortment of ointments that had been sold out. Evening was gradually approaching, and the dim candlelight cast long shadows from everything around, except Regis himself, a peculiarity of vampires. Emiel's long, thin fingers gently ground the herbal leaves in a mortar, slowly and methodically turning them into a porridge-like substance that would soon become another panacea for a customer in need, and he himself found solace and peace in this process. His peace was interrupted by the soft ringing of a bell when the door to his shop opened, and the boards at the threshold creaked with the steps of a traveler entering.

«Good evening. How can I help you?» — Emiel said in his polite and courteous tone, putting down the mortar with the unfinished medicine and turning to the visitor.