In the small town of Axminster, everyone knew everyone else. People had been living there for generations, and marrying each other for generations. Foreigners and visitors were looked at as a rare and somewhat disturbing presence.  When they came as visitors, stayed for a while and went away, it wasn't much of a problem.<br/><br/>When they decided to stay, though, it became slightly more worrying. The townspeople really didn't like strangers. They were weary of anyone coming to town without a previous presentation, usually sent in a letter to the mayor - it was that kind of town. Whoever dared to move into the town without this precaution was usually regarded as unreliable, and had a very hard time finding their place in Axminster.<br/><br/>In that rainy night, though, one of those unfortunate newcomers was just making his way in the town. The house he intended to live in had been built generations ago, and the heirs of the family in whose hands it had been for the past two hundred years were forced to sell it to pay for mounting debt. The purchase had been taken care of by one of the servants, and the true owner of the house had yet to be seen.<br/><br/>And judging by the time and manner of his arrival, being seen was not something he was very interested in. The carriage in which he arrived had all the drapes down, and could be empty to the eyes of a somewhat distracted onlooker. Only a hand moved one of the dark velvet drapes to the side, but no face appeared to to take a look outside.<br/><br/>Without making a stop at any point, the vehicle went straight to the old manor and stopped only after getting past its gates. The gates were closed as soon as the carriage made its way in, and a busy, yet quiet, hour followed as the servants started unloading the carriage and its only occupant made his way inside.