"I'm meeting with two tomorrow, three more the day after." Marron consulted her hastily-written schedule. "Millie's reaching out to her network. We're hoping to have at least ten chefs committed by the end of the week."

"And if we don't?"

Marron met Charlotte's eyes steadily. "Then we prioritize. Save as many vendors as we can with the chefs we have. It's not perfect, but it's better than letting them all get exploited."

The room fell silent again, the weight of partial success hanging over them.

"There's another option," Mokko said from the window. Everyone turned to look at him. "Public pressure. If the citizens of Lumeria understand what's happening—that the Merchant's Guild is trying to destroy the street market through bureaucratic exploitation—they might protest. Force the Guild to back down."

"That's risky," Charlotte said. "The Merchant's Guild controls a lot of commerce in this city. They could retaliate against anyone who speaks out."

"But they can't retaliate against everyone," Millie countered. "If enough people care, if enough citizens push back..."

"It becomes a political problem, not just a regulatory one," Marron finished. Her mind was racing. "We'd need to organize something public. Something that shows the quality and value of the street vendors. Makes it impossible for the Merchant's Guild to claim this is about 'hygiene' when everyone can see the food is excellent."

"A festival?" Iris suggested. "Or a demonstration?"

"A showcase," Marron said slowly. The idea was crystallizing as she spoke. "Invite the public to come taste food from the street vendors. Show them what's at stake. Make it a celebration of street food culture, not just a protest."

"When?" Thomas asked.

"Soon. Within the week." Marron looked at Millie. "Can the vendors organize something like that?"

"If I help coordinate, yes." Millie's red eyes were bright with determination. "But Marron, that's going to take time and energy. You can't recruit chefs, organize a showcase, AND handle all the administrative work."

"I know." Marron rubbed her face, feeling the exhaustion starting to creep in. "That's why I need help. Can you take point on the showcase? I'll focus on recruitment and paperwork."

"Done." Millie was already making notes. "Iris, you help me coordinate vendors. We'll need a location, permits—"

"The Guild might grant us space," Mokko suggested. "If Chef Henrik can help unofficially..."

"I'll ask," Marron said. "Tomorrow, after I meet with the other potential chefs."

The meeting continued for another hour, assigning tasks, coordinating schedules, trying to build a strategy out of desperation and hope. By the time the three chefs left, promising to submit their registration forms within two days, Marron's head was pounding.

"You need to eat," Mokko observed. "And sleep."

"I need to finish this list." Marron was staring at her recruitment chart, mentally calculating how many more chefs she needed to approach. "And draft the proposal for Henrik about the showcase space. And—"

"Marron." Millie's voice was gentle but firm. "You can't run yourself into the ground in the first two days. This is a marathon, not a sprint."

"I know, but—"

"But nothing." Millie physically took the papers out of Marron's hands. "You eat, you sleep, you start fresh tomorrow. Otherwise you'll burn out before the deadline and help no one."

Marron wanted to argue, but Lucy chose that moment to form a very emphatic sleeping symbol in her jar—a little crescent moon with closed eyes.

"Even Lucy agrees," Mokko said dryly.

"Fine." Marron stood, her legs protesting after hours of sitting. "But first thing tomorrow—"

"First thing tomorrow, you recruit more chefs," Millie interrupted. "I know. We're all on the same page." She headed for the door, Iris following. "Get some rest, soup lady. We're going to need you."

After they left, Marron stood in her suddenly-quiet apartment, looking at the organized chaos spread across her table. Partnership forms. Vendor lists. Registration paperwork. Recruitment schedules.

Twelve days to save fifty vendors' livelihoods.

No pressure.

+

The next morning, Marron met the first potential recruit at a cafe in the mid-ring—neutral territory between the upper district restaurants and the street market. The chef was a young woman named Kira, a recent graduate who'd been working in a upper district kitchen but was unhappy with the conditions.

"They treat the junior chefs like servants," Kira said, stirring her coffee with more force than necessary. "I spent four years getting Guild certified, and they have me peeling potatoes for twelve hours a day. When I asked about advancement, they laughed."

"I'm sorry," Marron said. "That sounds frustrating."

"It's soul-crushing." Kira looked up, her dark eyes tired. "So when Millie reached out about this partnership program, I was interested. But I need to understand the risks. If I leave my current position to do this, I'm giving up a steady income."

"The vendors can't pay much," Marron admitted. "This is basically volunteer work with liability attached. I won't pretend otherwise."

"But it's the right thing to do." Kira's voice was quiet but certain. "I started in a cart, actually. My parents ran one in the outer district. Fish skewers. They closed down five years ago because they couldn't afford the increasing license fees." She looked down at her coffee. "I became a chef because I wanted to honor what they built. This decree... it would have destroyed them even faster."

Marron felt something tighten in her chest. "Then you understand what's at stake."

"I do." Kira straightened. "I'm in. I can partner with maybe four or five vendors—I have some savings, enough to cover liability insurance and living expenses for a few months. After that..." She shrugged. "I'll figure it out."

"Thank you." Marron pulled out the registration forms. "Here's what you need to file. Do you have questions about—"

"Actually, I have one question first." Kira's expression had gone curious. "Why are you doing this? You're Marron Louvel, right? The chef who earned certification in one testing cycle, who disappeared for weeks and came back with some kind of special cooking equipment everyone's talking about. You could work anywhere in the city. Why risk your reputation on a bunch of street vendors?"

The question caught Marron off guard. She'd been so focused on the logistics, the strategy, the urgent need to help, that she hadn't really examined her own motivations.

"Because they deserve better," she said finally. "The street vendors. They're not cutting corners or making bad food. They're working hard, feeding people good meals at fair prices, building businesses from nothing. The Merchant's Guild is trying to destroy that through bureaucratic exploitation dressed up as public safety concerns. That's..." She searched for words. "That's wrong. And I can help stop it. So I am."

Kira studied her for a long moment, then smiled—genuine and a little sad. "That's a good answer. Better than I expected, actually."

"What did you expect?"

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.