Once upon a time, not so long ago and not so far from here, a Count lived in a hill. You've read it correctly: no castle, nor mansion for this fellow and your regular cave was way too mondaine. He built his city, his village and his estate, his roads, rivers and bridges and covered them with dirt. High pillars and vaulted ceilings protected the most magnificent sceneries from the envie of his rivals. The Count envisioned the place to be one of peace and prosperity, but soon his dream became a nightmare. Cut off from the Sun's light no lettuce would grow on the acres of field. The chickens refused to lay eggs, the cows stopped producing milk and the pigs did nothing but sleep. The people living in the hill who were blessed with eternal life barely moved an inch themselfs. Weeks went by and their skin slowly turned as white and felt as cold as the first snowfall. Months passed by and their eyes became as black and lifeless as coal. Years passed by and they ...