Lander Mallory made little noise as he maneuvered his way through the brush. The forest was dark, but the night was clear and his eyes were accustomed to hunting at night, especially under such a bright canopy of stars. The noises around him were familiar, like home. The cry of the stone owls, the river foxes burrowing in for the night and the mountain bats just waking up and taking flight. He loved the time of day when nature changed its stripes, when the inhabitants of the day made way for the rulers of the night. They paid no mind to Lander as he broke through the tree line and into a clearing. The town was up ahead, he could smell the cooking of meat and the burning of wood from the hearths.
 
He had been to Esterfell before, but always for trading or meeting with ambitious hunters. This was different. Four days ago, he had received a letter. Normally this would not have been a strange occasion but this letter was different. Rather than the normal letter requesting a hunting guide or an order of furs or meats, this letter was requesting his involvement in a group of people known as the Crimson Company. That wasn’t what sent the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.
 
The letter was addressed to ‘Eldon Harcourt’, a name he had never disclosed to anyone all these years. All the memories attached to that name came flooding back to him and he threw the letter in the fireplace and vowed to forget about it. But sleep eluded him, visions of blood and screams of dying people haunted him. He could not escape the prison of his own memories. When he received the second letter, his will was all but gone. He knew that he could not go back to his previous life and that he had to find out who this mysterious individual was and how he knew so much about him. Also, Lander knew that something was happening in the land. He couldn’t figure out what it was but the southern breeze carried a strange air and the animals were growing nervous. Somehow, he knew they were related.
 
Stepping up to the front door of the Spotless Rock Inn, Lander thought once again about turning around, heading home but he knew it was far too late for that. Stroking his beard and removing the bits of leaves and twigs he walked into the inn. His eyes squinted with the light from the lanterns and the mirrors on the walls. It was a cornucopia of sights and sounds that made him feel uneasy. He immediately spotted the man described in the letter. He was casually sitting next to a thin, well-groomed man at a table. Cautiously, he approached the men.
 
“I…” he said, clearing his throat. “I received a letter. I’m assuming you’re the one who sent for me. I wanted to tell you in person that whatever it is you want from me, I aint interested.” Lander looked at the skinny man, then back to him. He pulled out a chair and sat down before leaning in close and whispering, “…and my name is Lander Mallory. I think you might have me confused with someone else.”