Chapter Text
March 25, ????
Day one. I arrived late afternoon on foot, having left my accommodating, if unwitting, driver in the nearby village. My first impression of the manor was that of dereliction, and to my ears there seemed almost no sign of life. The possibility that I had been misled or else found my way to the wrong address took shape in my mind, but such concerns were soon assuaged by a letter left in the foyer, addressed to me. I followed the instructions and located my room.
I set at once to the task of familiarizing myself with the manor house before dinner. The stipulations in the new letter specified that participants are not permitted to leave the estate, though under what penalty I cannot say. Naturally, such a precept did not impede my investigation, nor do I expect it to be of much obstacle in the near future, but it does make me wonder if I haven’t exchanged one prison for another.
On my circuit I, quite literally, ran into another participant at the entrance to the east dining room. She arrived some time ago and was able to provide some more information about Oletus. Apparently the host is not one for public appearances. The only communication method he engages is of epistolary nature and the other participants have yet to see him. Not the news I was hoping for since I had been eager to meet him tonight.
Of more immediate concern, however, is this alarming fact our conversation revealed: one of us is in the wrong time—that is, we found discrepant our estimation of the current year. In fact, this appears to be a wider reaching matter on which other participants have weighed. The implications are quite severe, as it is no small incongruence but rather decades. I have no concrete evidence as to the cause, but I believe my suspicions already confirm the answer.