Luck's Fool

Prologue

This is bullshit, I thought to myself as I writhed on the ground after being struck in the balls for the third time that day, this time by way of a horse kick. Stupid fucking jester and his stupid fucking curse!

Thirteen years. That's how long it'd been since I pissed him off and was marked with this enduring vexation. I was seven at the time and, according to some, I was a bit of a spoiled ass. To be expected I guess, growing up in a wealthy family of acclaimed mages, I had been waited on hand and foot. My butler, Mortimer Eddelton, escorted me to the annual Hallow's Night Festival, a celebration of the dead and warding of demons holiday. The night had been refreshingly cool as the sounds of the crowd rippled with laughter and jovial conversation. The festival was a staple of Holton, a small city in the middle of Littany, the country where I was born. Every year merchants and minstrels and other vagabonds of the entertainment world would travel to Holton, hock their wares and set up stalls for various games with the chance to win alluring prizes. Stupid kids loved it. I didn't really bother with the games, and just purchased the prizes outright, walking through the crowd as the other, less fortunate children eyed me in envy, touting my trophies.

I had been drawn to a booth at the outskirts of the festival, just outside the city walls. A road tattered travel cart with a dark green awning sat on the side of the main thoroughfare, dimly lit by torch fire with bright bursts of green flashing from within. As I approached, my confounded curiosity besting me, I noticed several kids and young teens were gathered round, watching in wide eyed wonderment as a masked, lithe man in colorful clothing waved a staff around, conjuring green fire entertaining them. He danced to their "ooo's" and "ahhh's" around a small box on his table, gesturing grandly towards it. His words, like that of a song, were muffled behind a mask of black and white upon which sat a  half frown and half smile painted on either side. He spoke in eerie cadence as his voice echoed over the hushed murmurs of the children.

"Gather, gather, gather all!

Come and play the game of fall!

If by chance your luck by true,

A lottery draw could do well for you!

For one ha' penny, no more, no less!

You could win this gilded chest!

What it contains, a certain prize,

To keep you shielded from demon eyes!

An autumn trophy sure to astound,

When the evil spirits are abound!"

I paused a moment, regarding the small, unimpressive box on the table before turning to my geriatric butler, "My purse Eddie!"

He wordlessly retrieved my heavy coin sack from his belt and held it out to me. I dropped my other prizes at his feet as I snatched it from his hands and pushed my way through the throng of unkempt masses towards the front.

"You there!" I called out to the dancing fool. "I'd like to purchase all your lottery tickets."

The man, halting his dance, looked at me in surprise, which seemed to mirror the expressions of the others amid the crowd, as silence smothered the boisterous merriment. He looked me over then regarded me with a wry grin.

"Oh no no no

That simply won't do.

Not all of the tickets,

Can be purchased by you

It's a game of luck

You can't have them all!

It's a contest for everyone,

Young, short, old, and tall!

One ha' penny ticket,