The Capital's annual Spring Blossom Festival was supposed to be a joyous, relaxing event. The streets were lined with glowing paper lanterns, the air smelled of roasted sweetcorn and honey-cakes, and merchants from all over the Empire came to sell their wares.
It was a beautiful tradition.
However, taking four highly competitive Warlords and a pack of hyperactive beast-cubs to a festival filled with games of skill was a recipe for absolute disaster.
"I want the pink sheep!" Vali announced, pointing a tiny, demanding finger at a game stall.
The stall was a simple throwing game. You had to knock down a pyramid of heavy wooden gargoyles with a small, stuffed leather ball. The grand prize, hanging from the roof of the tent, was a stuffed sheep the size of a small boulder, dyed a violently bright shade of pink.
"Why do you want a pink sheep?" Rurik asked, scratching his silver head. "It is fluffy and lacks tactical value. I will win you the toy broadsword instead."
