[Mattius]

Ranchard could hardly contain himself. He had sat at the very corner of the main easterling seating area with no other person within a few yards of him. Even his own people thought him odd and unstable. He sat with his knees up to his face and his arms wrapped around his legs whilst bouncing on his backside. His right eye was twitching strongly and his tongue licked his lips almost constantly.

He had watched how all the slaves had been led in, it alomst made him sick to see them all together in the same place. He stood on his chair and shouted profanties at them but eventually controlled his rage and pushed it deep inside him. Ranchard used his excess energy to play with the spinal cord of a dog he had just killed, cracking the bone at a fantastic pace.

As Ekatran stood up Ranchard had to bite his lip to stop himself from laughing with joy, it was about to begin, it was so close. Every year he had hoped it would be his name to be picked yet every year it was someone else. For any sane person this would have seriously dented their self-confidence. Yet Ranchard's insane sub-concious totally convinced him that they day was comming, if not this year then the next.

As Ekatran walked towards the pot of names Ranchard was sure he gazed up at where he sat. This froze him solid in his seat. Now he was sure it was his year.