The current Count of Montenegro frowned at the platter before him. In an instant, he grabbed up the leg of mutton in one hand and the heavy wooden plate with the other and pushed his chair back from the oak table. He snarled at the shaking cook standing next to him, holding the plate an inch from the man’s nose and pushed it closer.

“This still has last night’s stain on it, idiot! Why aren’t the kitchen slaves doing their work properly?” He swung the mutton leg against the cook’s face and sent him crashing to the floor.

“Count, I beg your pardon, they…” the cook managed to mumble before the plate came hurtling toward his head.

The Count tore off a chunk of meat from the bone and chewed it thoughtfully for a long moment, then kicked at the cook. “Get up, you lout. Tell the stable scum I want my horse readied and to bring my hounds. I will hunt. And I’ll bring back someone who will clean those plates with their tongues if necessary!” Another kick sent the cook scurrying away to the Count’s ringing laughter.

The lands of the Montenegri -- the black mountains -- bordered on several small holdings of other nobles who had lived in terror of the depredations of the various Counts for almost a century. With impunity, they had ridden where they pleased, taken inhabitants as prisoners and slaves, and no law ever dared to interfer. Rumors and tales abounded about their cruelty and hinted at even darker secrets which were held within the great stone walls of Castle Montenegro.

Thus it was no surprise that three days later, the Count returned with not one, but three young women, each chained by the wrists to one of his huge hunting hounds. The few remaining servants cringed back against the walls as the Count drove the dogs and women along the hallways and down the wide stone stairs that led into his dungeon. He loosed the hounds which bounded eagerly up the stairs howling and barking loudly. The three women -- their clothes ragged and torn -- the Count pushed to the wall and slung their manacles over hooks above their heads. He looked from one to the other and finally at third. And nodded to himself.

“I suppose you shall have to do. I demand to be served and you will all learn to do it well…”