For three hundred and seventeen years, Count Severin Văleanu had never eaten breakfast. Supper, certainly, and occasionally a midnight snack, but breakfast was an entirely foreign institution. He had heard much about it from the villagers of Transylvania, who spoke fondly of warm bread, fresh eggs, sweet preserves, and something called pancakes. After several decades of consideration, the ancient vampire decided that he had waited quite long enough.

And so, at precisely four forty-five in the morning, Count Severin emerged from his ancestral castle wearing his finest black waistcoat, a crimson-lined cloak, and an enormous hat. He descended the winding mountain road toward the little village of Măgura, where smoke was already rising from the chimneys. The villagers knew him well enough, although most preferred not to acknowledge him until after sunset. Fortunately, the little bakery beside the village square opened well before dawn.

The establishment was called Mama Ilinca's Kitchen, and its windows glowed invitingly against the darkness. Severin hesitated outside, examining the cheerful sign advertising freshly baked bread and hot meals. "Ah, breakfast," he murmured, smoothing his mustache. "For centuries, you have eluded me, but today, ve shall finally become acquainted."

A little brass bell announced his entrance, and a stout woman behind the counter looked up from kneading dough. She was perhaps sixty years old, with rosy cheeks and flour covering most of her apron. Her expression brightened with recognition, although she immediately glanced toward the windows. "Count Severin! Good heavens, what are you doing out at this hour?"

"Good morning, Madam Ilinca!" Severin declared, sweeping off his hat with an elaborate bow. "I have come to partake in ze ancient human tradition of breakfast. I vish to experience ze eggs, ze toast, and perhaps ze little round cakes of ze pan." He straightened proudly, revealing a small leather purse filled with ancient silver coins. "Money shall be no obstacle."

Ilinca regarded him thoughtfully before wiping her hands on her apron. "Well, aren't you full of surprises? Sit wherever you like, Your Lordship, and I'll fetch you a menu." She gestured toward a comfortable table beside the enormous hearth. "Mind you, the sun comes up in about forty minutes, so don't choose the window seat."

Severin settled himself beside the fire, delighted by the warmth and the smell of baking bread. Everything was wonderfully ordinary, from the chipped ceramic sugar bowl to the embroidered curtains. He unfolded the menu with considerable excitement, adjusted his spectacles, and began reading. Within moments, however, his smile disappeared.

"Madam Ilinca?" he called politely, raising one finger. "I have a small inquiry concerning ze breakfast."

"Yes, Your Lordship?" she answered from the kitchen, where several eggs were sizzling in a pan. Severin cleared his throat delicately and indicated the first entry on the menu. "Ze scrambled eggs, I see, are prepared vith garlic butter. Is zat correct?"

"Of course!" Ilinca replied cheerfully. "My grandmother's recipe, with fresh parsley and three cloves of garlic." Severin nodded slowly, his expression carefully controlled. "Ah. And ze fried potatoes?"

"Garlic and rosemary, naturally," she explained, turning another page of her recipe book. "They're especially nice when the edges get crispy." Severin's left eye twitched. "Naturally. And perhaps ze pancakes, madam?"

"Oh, those are wonderful!" Ilinca exclaimed, delighted that he was showing an interest. "Savory pancakes with garlic cream, dill, and fresh cheese." She smiled proudly and added, "Won first prize at the harvest festival."

Severin stared at the menu for several uncomfortable seconds before turning the page. "Vell, perhaps something sveet vould be preferable. Ze plum preserves, for example. Surely ze humble plum has committed no offense against my constitution?"

"Roasted garlic and plum jam," Ilinca answered without hesitation. "It's my best seller, actually, particularly with the shepherds." She noticed Severin's increasingly strained expression and frowned. "Is something wrong with the menu, Count?"

Severin carefully laid the menu flat upon the table, folded his hands, and inhaled through his nose. "Madam, I assure you zat I bear no ill vill toward your establishment. However, I cannot help but notice zat every item seems to contain garlic." He leaned forward and lowered his voice confidentially. "You are avare, I trust, zat I am a vampire?"

Ilinca blinked twice before bursting into laughter. "Well, of course I know! Your grandfather used to come down here and frighten the sheep." She waved her hand dismissively and returned to her cooking. "But everyone puts garlic in breakfast, Count. It keeps the blood healthy."

"ZE BLOOD?" Severin squeaked, nearly overturning the sugar bowl. He caught himself, smoothed his waistcoat, and attempted to recover his dignity. "Forgive me. Perhaps I could simply have some toast, vithout ze garlic?"

"Garlic sourdough," she replied, pointing toward a fresh loaf cooling beside the oven. "Baked it myself an hour ago." Severin closed his eyes and pressed two fingers against his forehead. "And ze porridge?"

"Garlic and mushroom," Ilinca said, although her voice had begun to lose some of its enthusiasm. She watched him scan the remainder of the menu with mounting desperation. "There's also the breakfast sausage, but that's got garlic in it too."

"Tea?" he asked weakly, looking up with renewed hope. Ilinca grimaced and scratched her chin, remembering something unfortunate. "Garlic and ginger, I'm afraid. Good for the throat, though."

"COFFEE?"

"Garlic-infused honey in the house blend," she admitted, beginning to look genuinely apologetic. "It's rather popular with the farmers." She glanced toward the kitchen and added hopefully, "I could bring you a glass of water?"

"Yes!" Severin cried, clutching the table. "Vater! Blessed, beautiful, unadulterated vater! At last, ve have found common ground!"

Ilinca opened her mouth, hesitated, and glanced toward a large ceramic pitcher beside the stove. Severin followed her gaze and slowly rose from his chair. The pitcher contained several floating cloves of garlic, along with a sprig of rosemary and a slice of lemon. "Madam Ilinca," he whispered, "vhy is zere garlic in ze vater?"

"To keep it fresh," she answered helplessly. "My mother always did it that way." She watched as the vampire sank back into his chair, utterly defeated. "I'm beginning to think our menu might not be very suitable for you."

Severin stared into the hearth, where the logs crackled merrily. He had faced Ottoman soldiers, survived three attempted exorcisms, and once spent forty-seven years arguing with a particularly stubborn bishop. Yet here, in a little village kitchen, he had been vanquished by breakfast. "Three hundred years," he murmured sorrowfully, "and I cannot order a single egg."

Ilinca stood quietly for a moment before an idea occurred to her. She marched into the kitchen, took a fresh egg from a basket, and retrieved a clean skillet from beneath the counter. "Well, there's nothing stopping me from making you something that isn't on the menu," she announced firmly. "One plain fried egg, no garlic, and a little fresh bread dough cooked separately in a clean pan."

Severin raised his head, hardly daring to believe her. "You vould do zis? For me?" Ilinca snorted and cracked the egg into the skillet. "Count, you've been living on that mountain longer than my family's been in this village. I'd say it's about time somebody made you breakfast."

Ten minutes later, Severin sat before a simple plate containing one fried egg and two little rounds of freshly cooked bread. The sun was beginning to rise, and Ilinca had thoughtfully closed the heavy wooden shutters. The vampire lifted his fork, examined the egg with profound curiosity, and took his very first bite of breakfast. His eyes widened.

"Madam Ilinca," he said solemnly, swallowing with considerable difficulty, "zis is magnificent." She beamed and poured herself a cup of coffee, settling into the opposite chair. Severin took another delighted bite before suddenly looking suspicious. "But tell me one zing. Vhy, in ze name of all zat is unholy, do you put garlic in everyzing?"

Ilinca shrugged and sipped her coffee. "Oh, that's easy. Keeps the vampires away." She smiled pleasantly at him as he froze with his fork halfway to his mouth. "Mind you, I'm beginning to think it doesn't work very well."

For the first time in three centuries, Count Severin Văleanu laughed so hard that his fangs showed. Outside, the village bells began ringing to announce the new day, and the bakery filled with the sounds of its first customers arriving. Ilinca reached for another egg, and Severin eagerly offered her a silver coin. "Perhaps tomorrow, madam, ve might attempt ze pancakes."