<div align="center"><span class="bbc_u">To The Manor Reborn<br/>A Changeling: The Dreaming Anniversary Edition Chronicle</span><br/><br/>Starring:<br/>avorae as <strong>Karina Knightly</strong> (Autumn Sidhe)<br/>Bly as <strong>Carlisle Temms</strong> (Nocker)<br/>Marie Reynolds as <strong>Rebecca Quincey</strong> (Boggan)<br/>Muse as <strong>Rhydeea Riley</strong> (Clurichan)<br/><br/><em>To be nobody-but-yourself - in a world which is doing its best, night and day, to make you everybody else - means to fight the hardest battle which any human being can fight; and never stop fighting.</em><br/>--e.e cummings</div><br/><br/><br/><div align="center"><span class="bbc_u">Chapter 1: Heir Hunters</span><br/><br/>(https://i.imgur.com/z3JbBze.jpg)<br/><br/><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">Music</div><div class="spoiler_body">https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ppugnJE3vaY&amp;list=RDppugnJE3vaY&amp;start_radio=1</div></div></div><br/><br/>For two of the visitors, Rhydeea and Carlise, England probably didn't make a very good first impression. Christmas was over, and the year was in the awkward stage where it hung around for another six days, not quite knowing what to do, before ending. The weather couldn't even manage picturesque snow or frost, instead settling for thick clouds and an insistent cold rain that was just hard enough to make it impossible to ignore.  As their flights from New York and Dublin came into land at Leeds and Bradford International Airport, delayed due to heavy fog, it was a rather uninspiring sight.<br/><br/>After being ushered through security and customs by staff with all the enthusiasm you'd expect from people who really wanted to be at home with family instead of at work on New Year's Eve, there were cabs waiting outside the airport, to take them away into the grey twilight, there to find out if the letter they had recieved was for real or some kind of elaborate and extremely bizarre hoax.<br/><br/><br/>.....<br/><br/><br/><br/>For Karina and Rebecca, the journey was shorter, though no more convenient. The letter had likely been a shock to them as well, having come out of nowhere amidst the usual bills, junk mail and advertising.<br/><br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: georgia;"><em>...your presence is requested at Greenwood Hall, just outside Little Allerton, in North Yorkshire. See the attached map for more.....<br/><br/>.....you have been named as one of the heirs to the estate as stipulated in the will of the previous owner, conditional on you meeting with a representative from our firm on December 31'st, no later than 6pm....<br/><br/>....any expenses incurred for travel or time off work can be covered (see form 6c, attached)....<br/><br/>....yours, Springfield &amp; Snow Solicitors.</em></span><br/><br/>Some sort of hoax? A mistake? Or strange junk mail? Odds are good that none of them had even heard of that place before today, or had any reason to suspect that they were heir to anything. Yet everything about the place and the law firm seemed to check out.<br/><br/>So....it was worth checking out, right?<br/><br/>What's the worst that could happen?<br/><br/><br/>.......<br/><br/><div align="center">(https://i.imgur.com/8J5vRVp.jpg)</div><br/><br/>Sitting in the overgrown driveway as the final traces of the sunset faded, the silver Mercedes looked to be the newest thing in the area by at least forty years. The house loomed behind the car, a massive wall of deeper black against the foggy night. Only one light glimmered in a front window, somehow making the impression more unsettling than utter darkness. The headlights illuminated a decayed and eroded fountain, long since dried up. A stone nymph, whose head had been lost to vandals twenty years earlier, held a gourd of water, ready to pour into a fountain now choked with mud, weeds and bird droppings.<br/><br/>Ms Julia Snow, the junior partner of Springfield & Snow, sat inside the car shivering slightly, as if the heating system wasn't enough to keep the chill at bay. Or maybe it was just her surroundings. She had a phone to one ear, carrying on a conversation.<br/><br/><div align="center"><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">Ms Snow</div><div class="spoiler_body">(https://i.imgur.com/xrckD4B.jpg)</div></div></div><br/><br/><em>"Ten minutes to go, and nobody's shown up yet. Looks like you're going to owe me that twenty quid when I get back.<br/><br/>"Listen, Greg.....aren't we meant to have ways to make sure that people aren't making their wills when they're suffering from dementia? Are we sure this checks out?<br/><br/>"I'm just saying I could be doing better things tonight than freezing my ti--toes off sitting outside Dracula's castle here.<br/><br/>"Seriously, the village is a shithole, and the house looks about a thousand years old. Even if they got the letters, do you think they'd really want to come--<strong>ah!</strong><br/><br/>"Sorry, just saw some headlights. Looks like at least one of them showed up. No, I didn't scream! I was just....clearing my throat."<br/><br/>"Listen, got to go. Let's see what sorts of weirdos we've got here. No, I won't forget the money! God! You're going to rub this in every chance you get, aren't you?"</em><br/><br/>Ms Snow hung up, grabbed her briefcase, got out and flagged down the approaching car. She squinted, to try and see what sort of person would actually answer such a peculiar summons.<br/>