The truly outrageous drinking and partying the night before was incredible to behold, even more to partake. Perhaps from excessive application each of you rise from your beds at a groggy pace, limbs aching yet purposeful. For today was the beginning; the beginning of the ‘game’.
The staff of Cradlebury Court had explained the rules yesterday. And with a rather grand zeal in addendum; the parade - even if small - was certainly excessive. And so, you all knew what to expect. Perhaps it came as a shock that death would be a common appliance to the festivities, but perhaps it was the drink or bright lights from the night before that made you agree regardless. Too late now you suppose; you’re in it one way or another.
Knowing that all manners of activities will be provided for the ‘players’, each of you come down for breakfast. As you dine, you look around to the masks next to you, peeping through your own as you do. They are to be worn at all times. Even when eating, it seems. Getting the first meal of the day through your charade is proving a challenge.
Regardless, there are more important things on the agenda. You may or may not be experienced in footwork, or know how to handle a blade. Yet, here you are. Some with familiar conditions as expected from your position. From others? A brief respite in Utopia, even if for your life. Was certainly worth it so far, although not very well earned. That comes later, those of you assume.
You finish, or as finished as you can be with the feast that lay before you. Everyone else seems to have the same trouble. Most care not, although the masks make it difficult to judge. The servants and maids (authors note: not this time) begin clearing as you equally digest the meal and the situation.
Everything is nearly ready it seems. A brief respite it is.