Mokko found her still out on the balcony a while later, the paintbrush dry in her hand, the sign propped beside her like she'd forgotten she'd even made it. The slogan seemed like a good idea at the time, but now, she wasn't so sure.
But there was still something comforting in seeing the words
Welcome, Traveler.
Rest up before continuing your journey.
in her own handwriting.
"You've been staring at that thing for fifteen minutes," he said, leaning against the doorframe.
Marron blinked. "Just… thinking. It's a nice sign, but it's not that big a deal."
Mokko frowned like she'd just insulted one of his knives. "You really think the Feast was just a dinner?"
"Well…" She shrugged. "That's what it was. I cooked. They ate. End of story."
"In Savoria, flavor is power," Mokko said, crossing to sit beside her.
"I don't remember if I explained it to you before Kael brought us into Whisperwind. But...listen. You gave the Snake Queen and the Jackal Lord flavors they couldn't ignore. You changed the air in the room without touching a weapon."
"It really is amazing, you know. A newcomer did what even some clan leaders can't—got two rivals to consider getting along."
Marron shifted uncomfortably. "That makes it sound like I planned it. I didn't. I just… put food on plates."
"That's the thing," Mokko said, tapping the sign for emphasis. "To you, it's just food. To them, it's a reason to stop hating each other for the length of a meal. That's why people are impressed."
She didn't answer right away.
Part of her wanted to believe him, but another part—the stubborn, quiet one—kept saying she'd just been in the right place at the right time.
I'm not even a professional chef. I was just suggesting things from the world I used to live in. Heck, all I know about leading brigades was from a TV show!
Mokko saw the distress etched along Marron's face. Even if he couldn't read her mind, Mokko sensed her inner turmoil and didn't push further.
Instead, he got up. "I'll just make a pitcher of that drink you like in case you need it later. Good luck, kid."
+
At dusk, Marron was kneading dough for tomorrow's rolls when she had an idea. Mokko had been reading one of the magazines left for them on a nearby kitchen rack when she looked up at him.
"I was thinking," she said, "about writing to the Snake Queen and Lord Jackal. Not to… make it political. Just to ask them how they built their cities. What worked. What to avoid. They've both made places thrive, so they'd know what Meadowbrook needs."
Mokko's brows lifted. "Not a bad idea."
Marron smiled, but then thought better of it.
"Yeah, but...I don't want to bother them. They've got bigger things to deal with than answering letters from some random chef."
Lucy, sitting on the counter and swinging her glass jar like a lantern, tilted her head. "Why not send? Advice is tasty. Especially from royalty."
"I said I'm thinking about it," Marron replied. "Not doing it right now. What filling do you want these rolls to have, Lucy?"
"You make what I want?" Lucy asked, surprised.
"Mmhm. Tonight you get to decide what goes into these rolls."
Lucy chose a mixture of sardines and sausage.
"Well, that certainly is...interesting. Let's try it."
She hoped that by changing the subject, the slime would forget all about the letters.
+
Unfortunately, Marron soon discovered that her kitchen slime was like a dog with a bone, especially when Lucy believed she was helping Marron.
The next morning, Marron came downstairs to find Lucy humming off-key and looking suspiciously smug. On the table sat two neatly folded pieces of paper—her letters. Letters she hadn't mailed yet.
"Lucy…?"
"Put in the post box!" Lucy announced proudly, like she'd just returned from slaying a dragon.
Marron froze. "You what?"
Lucy's glow dimmed slightly. "You said you wanted to send them."
"I said I was thinking about it!" Marron ran a hand through her hair. "Lucy, they were drafts. They weren't ready. I didn't even—ugh."
Lucy's tentacles curled in. "Oh. I made you upset."
Mokko, who had been quietly slicing fruit, sighed. "She's not angry-angry, Lucy. It's just… sometimes Marron wants to keep things small, because big things can get complicated."
Lucy blinked. "But she already made big thing. She made Feast. Big-big."
"That's exactly it," Mokko said, giving Marron a pointed look. "She doesn't always realize when she's doing something big."
Lucy looked between them, uncertain, but then nodded slowly. "So… letters were big?"
"They were," Marron admitted, rubbing the back of her neck. "And now I guess I'll have to own them, since they're already halfway to two royal palaces."
Lucy brightened again. "Good! Now you get tasty advice."
Marron sighed, but she couldn't quite fight the corner of her mouth from twitching. "You're impossible."
"Efficient," Lucy corrected.
+
Later that afternoon, Marron hitched up the Seaglass Lounge's little delivery cart and set out for the market again. Nothing fancy—just a wooden frame with two wheels and a slightly squeaky axle—but it was hers, and it worked.
At least, until she noticed the pair of merchants standing near the spice stall, their voices pitched just low enough to be "private," but loud enough to carry.
"That's her? The Feast chef?"
"That's her. Look at that cart. She couldn't have pulled that off without some trick. Probably slipped something into the food."
"Wouldn't surprise me. Nobles don't just eat together like that."
Marron kept walking, but the words stuck like burrs under her skin. She didn't care about fancy carts or gilded wheels, but the idea that she'd cheated—that it couldn't have been her cooking—hit deeper than she expected.
Her hands tightened on the cart's handle. The squeaky axle groaned as she pulled harder.
[SYSTEM NOTICE: Emotional spike detected — "Irritation." Cooking Quality temporarily reduced (-10%) for 3 hours.]
A small, sour chime rang in her head.
She almost laughed. Of course. She couldn't even be irritated without the system tattling about it.
"Fine," she muttered under her breath. "I'm not cooking for the next three hours anyway. I'll be busy hammering boards into Meadowbrook."
The notice blinked away, leaving her alone with the creak of the cart wheels and the smell of the sea. She pushed on, pretending the debuff was nothing.
But the burrs stayed where they were.