After speaking with Mr. Bremus, the building's owner, Stark and Tark were caught off guard when he handed them a dusty, old-looking wine bottle.
"Give this to your parents," he said. "They'll know what to do with it."
Noticing their puzzled glances, he added, "It's a rare and very expensive vintage." Then, with a nod, he disappeared back into the building.
Tark spun the bottle in his hands. "Alright, bro—let's go eat. I'll race you there!"
"You're on!" Stark shouted.
They took off running, boots slapping the pavement, the bottle tucked safely under Tark's arm. Minutes later, they burst through the front door of Tark's house, breathless and laughing, the scent of cinnamon and toast wafting from the kitchen.
"You two sound alive," Emery called. "That mean you finished the list?"
"Not exactly," Tark said, stepping into the kitchen where the plates were still warm. "There were five goblins instead of three. The leader was a pain."
"But…" Stark said between gulps of orange juice, "we handled it."
"Did you?" Emery asked, raising an eyebrow as she leaned on the counter.
"Yeah!" Tark grinned, already mid-bite on a slice of French toast. "We kicked their butts. Em, you should've seen Stark—he wiped them out. Like, all of them." He chewed, still talking. "With my help, obviously. But seriously—he did stuff I haven't even seen you do. I bet he could take you!"
Stark choked. "Tark—dude, no."
Tark leaned back, grinning. "I bet he could," he said again, louder this time.
Stark shot him a look and stood. "Excuse us a sec." He grabbed Tark by the wrist and dragged him into the hallway.
"Are you insane?" Stark hissed. "You trying to get me killed?"
"She's a warrior," Tark shrugged. "She won't kill you. Probably. She might break something, though…"
"Tark."
"Okay, okay—listen. I just wanted to see you two spar. I figured making her mad would be the fastest way."
Stark groaned. "Next time, maybe warn me before throwing me into the fire."
"Aye aye, Captain!" Tark said, beaming. Totally worth it, he thought.
They walked back in, and Emery's eyes locked onto them like a predator spotting prey.
"What were you two whispering about?" she asked coolly.
Tark stepped forward with mock formality. "My dear sister, I was just about to propose a friendly sparring match—between you and Stark."
Stark muttered, "Stove," under his breath.
Emery's gaze didn't waver. "Your training was supposed to start tomorrow," she said, stepping forward, arms crossed. "But I suppose now's as good a time as any to gauge your strength."
She smirked.
"Meet me at the training grounds. Thirty minutes. Full armor." She turned and walked off, her boots echoing against the wooden floor.