The final stop of their agonizingly normal evening brought them to the edge of a bustling festival square, where brightly colored tents offered games of chance and skill.
Julian dragged them toward a loud, obnoxious stall where a greasy-haired merchant was shouting insults at a group of young men who had just failed to shoot a wooden arrow into a small, painted target.
"Come on, boys! Are you blind, or just weak?" the merchant jeered, waving a handful of cheap, copper rings. "Three coppers for three arrows! Hit the bullseye, win the grand prize!"
He pointed to the top shelf of his stall, where a massive, incredibly ugly stuffed bear sat. It was dyed a garish, toxic shade of purple, and one of its glass eyes was glued on slightly higher than the other.
"I want that bear," Julian declared, crossing his arms and looking at Mahir and Ken. "Prove your worth, commanders."
