"Excuse me," Marron said, her voice cutting through the noise with surprising authority. She pushed forward until she was standing between the vendor and the official. "I have a question about the decree."

The official looked down at her—he was tall, middle-aged, with the kind of smug expression that came from wielding bureaucratic power. "And you are?"

"Marron Louvel. Certified Culinary Guild chef." She tapped her Guild pin deliberately. "I run a food cart myself. Or I did, before I took a leave of absence. So this decree affects me directly."

"Then you understand the importance of maintaining standards—"

"I understand that the Culinary Guild has jurisdiction over food quality and safety, not the Merchant's Guild." Marron kept her voice level, professional. "So my question is: where is the Culinary Guild's approval on this decree? Because I don't see their seal anywhere on these notices."

The official's expression flickered. "The Merchant's Guild has authority over all commercial activities within Lumeria—"

"But the Culinary Guild has specific authority over food preparation and safety standards," Marron interrupted. "It's in the city charter. So unless Guild Master Savorin signed off on this decree, it's overreach. Isn't it?"

A murmur ran through the crowd. Vendors were nodding, their expressions shifting from anger to something more calculating.

The official's face went red. "The Restaurant District Council approved this measure—"

"The Restaurant District Council isn't the Culinary Guild," Marron said. "It's a trade organization with financial interests in eliminating street market competition. That's a conflict of interest, not legitimate regulatory authority."

"You're out of line—"

"No, you're out of jurisdiction." Marron pulled out her own copy of the decree—she'd grabbed one from a posting on her way here. "This decree cites 'public health and safety' but doesn't reference a single actual health code violation. It doesn't cite incident reports, contamination cases, or any evidence that street vendors are actually causing health problems. It's just... bureaucratic overreach with a convenient excuse."

The crowd was getting louder now, emboldened. Other vendors were pulling out their copies of the decree, pointing at the lack of Culinary Guild approval.

The official looked around, clearly realizing he'd lost control of the situation. "The decree stands. Two weeks. Find partnerships or face consequences."

He turned and left, the other Merchant's Guild representatives following quickly. But the damage was done—the vendors had seen someone challenge the decree on legal grounds, and hope was flickering back to life.

Millie appeared at Marron's elbow, her expression somewhere between impressed and concerned. "That was brave. Also possibly stupid."

"Definitely both," Marron agreed. Her hands were shaking with adrenaline, but her mind was clear. "But Henrik said to be strategic. So I'm being strategic."

"By picking a fight with the Merchant's Guild?"

"By pointing out they don't have the legal authority they're claiming." Marron looked around at the gathered vendors—fifty faces, maybe more, watching her with desperate hope. "The Culinary Guild has jurisdiction over food safety. If we can get Guild Master Savorin to formally contest this decree, we might be able to delay it long enough to find a real solution."

"And if we can't?" Iris asked quietly.

Then fifty vendors would lose their livelihoods, and the street market would become another casualty of upper district greed.

"We'll figure it out," Marron said, with more confidence than she felt. "But first we need to organize. Get everyone together, document the partnership terms being offered, build a case for why this decree is harmful. Make it impossible for the Merchant's Guild to pretend this is about public health."

She looked at Millie. "Can you help coordinate? You know the vendors better than I do."

"Already planning it," Millie said. Her ears were up now, her expression sharp with purpose. "Iris, start collecting partnership offers that have been made. We need documentation. Marron, you should talk to the Culinary Guild directly—your Guild pin will get you in the door faster than the rest of us."

"I'm going there next." Marron looked at the crowd of vendors, at the food carts that represented years of work and hope and community. "We have two weeks. Let's use them."

The Culinary Guild building was as imposing as ever—marble and glass, the golden crest gleaming in the afternoon sun. Marron walked through the main entrance with Mokko and Lucy, trying to project confidence she didn't entirely feel.

"I need to speak with Guild Master Savorin," she told the receptionist. "It's urgent. About the Merchant's Guild decree."

The receptionist—a young human man with neat hair and a professional smile—didn't even blink. "You and thirty other people today. The Guild Master is aware of the situation and is reviewing the decree. He'll make an official statement soon."

"How soon?"

"Within the week."

"The vendors have two weeks total," Marron said, trying to keep her frustration in check. "Waiting a week for a statement means they'll only have seven days left to find solutions."

"I understand your concern, but the Guild Master needs time to review the legal implications—"

"The legal implications are that the Merchant's Guild is overstepping their authority." Marron pulled out the decree, pointing at the signature. "This doesn't have Culinary Guild approval. It should have been run by Guild Master Savorin before it was issued, not after."

"I'll make sure he's aware of your perspective." The receptionist's smile never wavered. "Is there anything else I can help you with?"

Marron wanted to argue further, to demand an immediate meeting, to shake someone until they understood the urgency. But she could see in the receptionist's polite, immovable expression that it wouldn't help.

"No," she said finally. "Thank you."

She turned and walked out, Mokko following silently. Outside, she leaned against one of the marble pillars and tried to think.

The Culinary Guild would move through official channels. That was proper, professional, by-the-book. But it would also be slow—too slow to help vendors facing a two-week deadline.

Which meant the vendors needed another solution. Something that would either satisfy the decree's requirements without exploitation, or make the decree impossible to enforce, or create enough public pressure that the Merchant's Guild backed down.

"You're plotting," Mokko observed.

"I'm thinking strategically." Marron pushed off from the pillar. "Come on. We need to go back to the apartment. I need to make a list."

"A list of what?"

"Everything we need to fight this properly." Marron started walking, her mind already racing ahead. "Documentation, legal precedents, public support, alternative solutions. Henrik said anger is only useful if it's directed properly. So let's get organized."

Lucy burbled encouragingly from her jar, forming a determined fist shape.

They made it three blocks before the next complication arrived.

A young runner—maybe twelve years old, wearing a messenger's badge—came sprinting up to them, slightly out of breath.

"Chef Louvel?" he panted.

"Yes?"

"Message for you. From Chef Henrik." The boy held out a sealed envelope. "He said it was urgent."

Marron took it, gave the boy a silver coin for his trouble, and broke the seal. The note inside was in Henrik's precise handwriting:

Louvel—

Guild Master Savorin is reviewing the decree but will not make a formal statement for at least a week, possibly two. The Culinary Guild cannot contest without proper review of legal precedents.

However, I've spoken with several council members. Privately, we agree the decree is overreach and damaging to Lumeria's food culture. We cannot act officially yet, but we can support alternatives informally.

If the vendors can organize a solution that satisfies the decree's stated requirements without accepting exploitative partnerships, the Culinary Guild will help legitimize it.

Think creatively. The decree requires partnership with a "licensed, brick-and-mortar restaurant." It doesn't specify which restaurant, or what form that partnership must take.

I trust you'll understand the implications.

—Henrik

Marron read it twice, then looked up at Mokko with dawning realization.

"He's telling me there's a loophole," she said slowly.

"A loophole?"

"The decree requires vendors to partner with a restaurant. But it doesn't say the partnerships have to be exploitative." Marron's mind was racing now, pieces clicking together. "What if the vendors partnered with a restaurant that actually supported them? That provided the 'supervision' required by the decree but didn't take their profits or control their businesses?"

"Does such a restaurant exist?"

"Not yet." Marron folded the note carefully, a plan beginning to form. "But maybe it could."

Mokko's eyes narrowed behind his glasses. "What are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking," Marron said slowly, "that I'm a certified Guild chef. And I have an apartment with a full kitchen. And technically, if I register that kitchen as a 'home-based restaurant,' I could offer partnerships to vendors who need them."

"That's..." Mokko paused. "That's actually brilliant. But can you handle that many partnerships? Fifty vendors?"

"Not alone, no." Marron started walking again, faster now. "But I'm not the only Guild chef in Lumeria who cares about the street market. Millie has her certification too. And there are others—students who've graduated, chefs who started in carts before moving to restaurants. If we can get enough of them to register home-based establishments and offer fair partnerships..."

"You could create a network," Mokko finished. "Vendors partnered with chefs who actually respect them, instead of restaurants trying to exploit them."

"Exactly." Marron could feel the plan taking shape, solid and possible. "It wouldn't solve everything—we'd still need to figure out the logistics, the legal details, how to make it sustainable. But it would give the vendors an alternative. A way to satisfy the decree without losing their independence."

Lucy was bouncing excitedly in her jar, forming star after star.

"First step," Marron said, her voice firm with purpose. "Get back to the apartment. Draft a proposal. Then contact Millie and start recruiting Guild chefs who might be willing to help."

"And if you can't find enough chefs?"

"Then we figure out another solution." Marron looked back toward the street market, where fifty vendors were waiting for hope. "But we have two weeks. That's more than enough time to get creative."

Mokko rumbled something that might have been approval or concern—with him, it was always hard to tell. "You know this is going to be complicated."

"Everything worth doing is complicated." Marron adjusted her grip on Lucy's jar and picked up her pace. "Come on. We have work to do."

Behind them, Lumeria's crystal towers gleamed in the afternoon sun, beautiful and uncaring. But in the street market, in the lower ring, in the places where regular people made their livings—there, something was beginning to shift.

The soup lady had a new quest. And this time, it wasn't about finding Legendary Tools.

It was about using what she'd learned to protect something that mattered.

[New Quest Unlocked: Defend the Market]

[Objective: Find a solution to the Merchant's Guild decree that protects street vendors while satisfying legal requirements]

[Time Limit: 14 days]

[Reward: ???]

[Warning: This quest has political implications. Success will make allies. But it will also make enemies.]

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