For the next several weeks Isaiah carried on like usual. Get up at the crack of dawn, do whatever work was available to him, check up on his girls. Rinse and repeat. At first he had paid attention to how many days before the drawing. Though by now he had lost track. In fact, he had almost forgotten. He probably would have forgotten completely if there hadn’t been an announcement in the square that it was to be on the next day. The rest of the day Isaiah thought about how great it would feel to win, and then remembering that he had less than no chance of that happening. Today he had managed to get a shop owner to let him sweep, for a small pittance. It was well into the night when the shop closed and his services were no longer wanted. Wiping the sweat from his brow, he accepted the cash and thanked the owner. Having to refrain from mocking the man and his gaudy appearance.

He spent the next twenty minutes navigating the narrow pathways that made up Tarrin’s roads. With the only carts allowed in town being hand-pulled, the streets were designed for walking. They were efficient, though perhaps a little crowded at times. However as far as Isaiah was concerned, this had far less to do with the amount of people that lived in the city, and more to do with how much room it’s residents took. Then there were those like him, who took up so little space that most people didn’t even realise they were there. After a seeming eternity, Isaiah reached his destination: A dark, seedy alleyway that few people went down. Leaning against the wall, he stood and waited for the person he was to meet there.

“You’re late,” He said as the man came around the corner, wearing a mask that covered everything except his chin and the metal stud that sat upon it.

[hr]
Meanwhile across Tarrin, there was a loud tapping on the marble road. The tapping was the sound of two figures walking side by side. They both were wearing elaborate, brilliantly blue, get-ups. The only discernible difference being the colour of the masks the adorned. The taller one with a silver face, the other-who by his posture seemed to be a fair bit older-a face of gold. Having left the courthouse only a few moments prior, they both seemed quite ready to be at their homes and relax.

“So this is the roster then?” The silver one confirmed, holding a list of 24 names in front of him. The lucky, if that’s what you would call it, souls who would be in the running for the lottery. The other man nodded in a response for a moment his headdress threatened to fall off had his balance not been impeccable. “And I am to announce them at noon tomorrow?” Just from his voice it was easy to tell that this man was fairly young. Early or mid-twenties at most. 

“Yes, they should all be about by then,” While you couldn’t see it, a devilish grin could be heard on the man’s voice. “And Cyrus, make sure to tell your brother I want him as the building manager for the event, want to keep a close tabs,” The younger man, apparently called Cyrus, made a sound of compliance before parting ways to his own home where after speaking to his brother he wasted no time getting to bed.