"So I'm gathering." Edmund turned a page, revealing a sketch—detailed and accurate—of one of the dumpling makers at work. "Tell me, Ms. Louvel. How did you organize this resistance so quickly? The decree was issued six days ago, yet you've already recruited a dozen chefs, established a partnership program, and coordinated this showcase. That's... impressive efficiency."

The way he said "impressive efficiency" made it sound like a question. Or an interrogation.

"I had help," Marron said carefully. "Millie knows the vendors. Mokko handles logistics. The chefs I recruited believe in protecting street food culture. It's not complicated—just people working together for something that matters."

"And your cooking equipment?" Edmund asked, his tone still perfectly pleasant. "I've heard interesting rumors. A food cart that produces unusually good results. A copper pot that never boils over. Small details that people mention in passing."

Marron's heart rate spiked. She forced herself to stay calm, to not react visibly. "I use good quality equipment. Any chef would."

"Of course." Edmund smiled—polite, distant, unreadable behind those glasses. "I'm merely noting details. Professional habit." He closed the notebook. "I should let you return to your work. But Ms. Louvel? I want you to know that I think what you're doing here is admirable. Protecting these vendors, building community, resisting unjust regulation. It's the kind of grassroots action that changes cities."

"Thank you," Marron said, not sure if she believed his sincerity.

"Though I wonder," Edmund continued, adjusting his glasses in a gesture that seemed habitual, "how long you can sustain it. The Merchant's Guild has significant resources. The Restaurant District Council has political connections. You're one chef with a handful of allies. What happens when they push back harder?"

"We push back harder too."

"Admirable sentiment." Edmund's smile didn't quite reach his eyes. "But sentiment doesn't always overcome structural power." He tucked his notebook into his jacket. "Enjoy the rest of your showcase, Ms. Louvel. I'll be watching with great interest."

He turned and walked away, disappearing into the crowd with practiced ease.

Marron stood there, heart pounding, trying to process what had just happened. That wasn't a normal academic conversation. Edmund Erwell had been... what? Probing for information? Testing her? Assessing something?

And those questions about her equipment. He'd been too casual, too specific. That wasn't random curiosity.

"Marron?" Millie appeared at her elbow, white fur slightly ruffled from navigating the crowd. "You okay? You look like you saw a ghost."

"Not a ghost. An academic." Marron gestured vaguely in the direction Edmund had gone. "Edmund Erwell. Says he teaches history at the Academy. He's been watching me. Asking about my cooking equipment."

Millie's red eyes sharpened. "Asking how?"

"Carefully. Like he already knew something but wanted to see how I'd respond." Marron realized her hands were trembling slightly. "Millie, I think he might know about the tools."

"The Legendary Tools?" Millie's voice dropped to barely above a whisper. "How would he—"

"I don't know. But Keeper warned me about collectors. The System said I was being observed. And now this academic is following me around asking pointed questions about my equipment." Marron took a breath, trying to calm her racing thoughts. "I think he's looking for something. And I think that something might be what I'm carrying."

Lucy burbled nervously in her jar, pressing against the glass.

"Okay," Millie said, her tone shifting to purely practical. "We can't do anything about it right now—we're in the middle of the showcase, surrounded by hundreds of people. But after? We need to talk about this. Figure out what he knows, what he wants, and how worried we should be."

"Agreed." Marron forced herself to focus. One crisis at a time. Right now, they had a showcase to run and vendors to support. Edmund Erwell—and whatever he represented—would have to wait.

But as they moved back into the crowd, Marron couldn't shake the image of him adjusting his glasses, that polite smile hiding whatever he was really thinking.

I'll be watching with great interest.

That wasn't a casual remark. That was a promise.

The showcase continued for three more hours, and by any measure it was a success.

Hundreds of citizens had attended. Every vendor had sold out of their sample portions, many had taken orders for future business, and the conversations Marron overheard suggested people genuinely understood what was at stake now.

"—such good food, why would the Merchant's Guild want to shut them down?—"

"—my grandmother used to run a cart, before the fees got too high—"

"—those partnership terms are robbery, someone should do something—"

Someone was doing something. That was the point.

By the time the last attendees filtered out and vendors began packing up their carts, Marron felt exhausted but cautiously hopeful. They'd shown the public what street vendor culture meant. They'd demonstrated quality and care. They'd built support.

Now they just had to hope it was enough.

"Speech time," Millie said, nudging Marron toward the center of the courtyard where vendors were gathering.

"What? I didn't prepare a speech—"

"Improvise. They need to hear from you." Millie physically pushed her forward. "Go."

Marron found herself standing in front of forty vendors—tired, hopeful, looking at her like she had answers.

I'm not a leader, she wanted to say. I'm just a chef who got angry about injustice.

But that wasn't quite true anymore, was it? Somewhere in the past week, she'd become... something. An organizer. An advocate. Someone people looked to for direction.

The weight of it was terrifying.

"Thank you all for being here today," Marron said, her voice carrying across the courtyard. "For trusting us with this showcase. For showing the citizens of Lumeria what you do and why it matters."

Vendors nodded, some smiling, others just looking exhausted.

"We have eight days left," Marron continued. "Forty-two vendors are now partnered with Guild chefs through our program. Eight of you are still unaccounted for." She looked directly at the vendors who hadn't yet committed. "If you need help, if you need a partnership, please come talk to me or Millie. We'll find someone."

"And if we can't?" one vendor asked—a young man running a soup cart. "If there aren't enough chefs?"

"Then we prioritize," Marron said honestly. "We protect as many of you as we can with the resources we have. It's not perfect. But it's better than letting the Merchant's Guild force you into exploitative contracts."

"What about the Guild's official review?" another vendor asked. "Are they going to contest the decree?"

"They're reviewing it," Marron said. "But bureaucracy is slow. We can't wait for them to finish their process. We need to take action now."

Murmurs of agreement rippled through the crowd.

"Today was step one," Marron said. "We showed the public what you do. Step two is continuing to document the predatory partnership offers from upper district restaurants. Step three is making sure all the home-based restaurant registrations go through before the deadline. And step four..." She paused, feeling the weight of what she was about to say. "Step four is figuring out what to do if the Merchant's Guild pushes back anyway."

"You think they will?" Marcus asked.

"I think they won't like that we found a loophole." Marron looked around at the vendors—people who'd built businesses from nothing, who'd weathered fees and regulations and competition, who were now facing their biggest threat yet. "But we're not backing down. Right?"

"Right," came the chorus of voices.

"Then let's get to work." Marron felt something settle in her chest—determination, purpose, the kind of fierce protective instinct she'd only recently learned to feel again. "Eight days. We can do this."

The vendors dispersed slowly, some coming up to thank Marron personally, others heading back to their carts to finish packing. Mokko materialized at her side with a canteen of water, which she drank gratefully.

"Good speech," he rumbled.

"I have no idea what I'm doing."

"You're doing fine." Mokko gestured at the courtyard, at the vendors working together, at the evidence of community and cooperation. "Look at what you've built in less than a week. That's not nothing."

"It's not enough yet, either."

"It will be." Mokko's confidence was absolute. "You'll make it enough."

Marron hoped he was right.

Later that evening, after the courtyard was cleared and the last vendors had left, Marron sat with Millie and Mokko in her apartment, trying to decompress.

"We need to talk about Edmund Erwell," Millie said, breaking the comfortable silence.

"I know." Marron had been avoiding thinking about it, focusing on the immediate success of the showcase. But Millie was right—they couldn't ignore the academic who'd been watching her so intently.

"Tell me exactly what he said," Millie prompted.

Marron recounted the conversation as accurately as she could remember—Edmund's questions about her equipment, his comments about efficiency, the way he'd said he'd be "watching with great interest."

"He knows something," Mokko said flatly. "Or suspects something. People don't ask that specifically about cooking equipment unless they're looking for something unusual."

"Could he be a collector?" Marron asked. "The kind Keeper and Lord Jackal Alexander warned me about?"

"Possible." Millie's expression was thoughtful. "Though he introduced himself as an academic. History teacher at the Academy. That's easy enough to verify."

"I'll check tomorrow," Mokko volunteered. "See if Edmund Erwell is who he claims to be. And if he's published anything about... what was it? 'Food culture and street vendor traditions'?"

"That's what he said." Marron pulled out a piece of paper and started making notes. "We need to know if he's legitimate or if that's cover for something else. We need to know what his interest is in me specifically. And we need to figure out how much he actually knows about the tools."

"Three Legendary Tools," Millie said quietly. "That's not something you can hide forever, Marron. You use that cart in public. People have noticed the food tastes better than it should. Add the copper pot and the ladle, and anyone paying attention would realize something unusual is happening."

"So what do I do?" Marron felt the fear creeping back. "Stop using them? That defeats the purpose. They were meant to be used, not hidden."

"Use them carefully," Mokko suggested. "And be aware that people like Edmund Erwell are watching. If he's a collector, if he wants the tools, he'll make a move eventually. Better to be prepared."

Lucy burbled softly from her jar, forming a protective shield shape.

"I don't want to think about this right now," Marron admitted. "I want to focus on the decree, on saving the vendors. One crisis at a time."

"Fair enough," Millie said. "But Marron? Don't ignore this completely. Edmund Erwell is out there, watching and taking notes. That's not going to stop just because we're busy with other things."

"I know." Marron rubbed her face, exhaustion catching up with her. "I know. We'll figure it out. After the decree is resolved."

Eight days to save the vendors.

And an unknown academic watching her every move, asking pointed questions about her equipment, hiding his intentions behind polite smiles and wire-rimmed glasses.

I'll be watching with great interest.

Marron shivered, despite the warmth of her apartment.

Some observers were harmless. Some were just curious.

And some, she was beginning to suspect, were dangerous.

[Quest Update: Defend the Market]

[Progress: 42/50 vendors secured partnerships]

[Public Support: Strong (Showcase Success)]

[Time Remaining: 8 days]

[New Development: Edmund Erwell is actively observing you]

[Warning: His interest in your equipment is not coincidental]

[Secondary Quest Unlocked: Know Your Observer - Learn who Edmund Erwell is and what he wants]

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