That evening, the street market celebrated.

Word had spread quickly—the partnerships were approved, the vendors were safe, the decree had been survived. It wasn't a complete victory, but it was enough.

Someone organized an impromptu feast—multiple vendors contributing dishes, long tables set up in the market square, the whole community gathering to mark the moment.

Marron arrived to find the celebration already in full swing. Music, laughter, the smell of dozens of different foods mingling in the warm evening air. Vendors she'd helped, chefs she'd recruited, citizens who'd supported the resistance—all gathered together.

"The soup lady's here!" someone shouted, and suddenly Marron was being pulled into the crowd, congratulated, thanked, celebrated in ways that made her face burn with embarrassment.

"I didn't do it alone—" she tried to say, but no one was listening.

Millie rescued her eventually, pulling her to a table where food was being laid out with ceremonial care. "Let them celebrate you," the rabbitkin said. "You earned it."

"We earned it," Marron corrected. "All of us."

"Sure. But you started it." Millie handed her a plate. "Now eat. You've been running on stress and Savoria Rounds all day. You need actual food."

The table was incredible—a showcase of everything the street vendors could do. Marron saw:

Marcus's egg bread, still in those hand-stamped boxes Arrow's loaves (not stale anymore), sliced and served with butter The dumpling makers' work, steamed to perfection Grilled fish from the cart vendor who'd argued with officials Millie's moon cakes, glowing softly in their paper lantern light Skewers, stews, sweets, savories—everything the market offered

But the centerpiece, the thing that made Marron's breath catch, was a roasted goose.

Someone had prepared it with obvious care—the skin was crackling crispy, deep golden-brown, glistening with rendered fat. The meat underneath looked tender and rich, the cavity stuffed with herbs that perfumed the air. It sat on a bed of what they called golden rice in Lumeria—fluffy grains turned sunset-yellow with sunspice (their turmeric equivalent), studded with dried apricots and toasted almonds, rich with butter and saffron-type spices.

"Who made this?" Marron asked, awed.

"Vendor near the north entrance," Millie said. "Runs a festival food cart. She insisted on preparing it for you specifically. As thanks."

The vendor in question—an older woman with kind eyes and flour-dusted hands—appeared at Marron's elbow. "I hope you like it. My family's recipe. We only make it for special occasions."

"This is beautiful," Marron said honestly.

"You saved my business," the woman replied simply. "This is the least I can do."

Marron didn't know what to say to that, so she just accepted the plate the woman prepared—goose with crackling skin, the golden rice fragrant and studded with fruit and nuts, a selection of other dishes from around the market.

She found a spot at one of the long tables, Mokko and Lucy joining her, and for the first time in two weeks, she just... ate.

The goose was incredible—skin that shattered at the slightest pressure, revealing tender meat underneath that tasted of herbs and time and care. The fat had rendered perfectly, adding richness without greasiness. Each bite was satisfying in a deep, primal way.

The golden rice was almost too pretty to eat—each grain separate and fluffy, the sunspice adding warm color and subtle earthiness, the dried fruit providing bursts of sweetness, the toasted nuts adding crunch and depth. It was the kind of rice you served at weddings, at festivals, at moments that mattered.

"This is a feast," Mokko observed, working through his own heaping plate.

"This is what we saved," Marron corrected, looking around at the celebration. "Not just businesses. This. Community. Connection. People feeding each other because it matters."

Lucy absorbed a tiny portion of rice and seemed to glow slightly brighter, which Marron interpreted as approval.

As the evening wore on, vendors came by to thank her personally. Some brought food. Others brought stories—how the partnership program had saved them, what they planned to do with the six-month probationary period, their gratitude for having a chance to keep building their businesses.

Arrow appeared with a basket of bread—her regular stock, not the stale ones—and pressed it into Marron's hands. "Thank you," the owl-kin said softly. "For the soup. For the partnership. For everything."

Marcus gave her a week's worth of egg bread, all in hand-stamped boxes.

The dumpling makers gave her their grandmother's recipe, written out carefully.

The fish cart vendor gave her a promise: "Anything you need, anytime. You come to my cart, you eat free. Forever."

By the time the celebration wound down, Marron's arms were full of food and her heart was full of something she'd thought she'd lost years ago.

Purpose. Connection. The feeling that what she did mattered.

"You okay?" Millie asked, finding her near the edge of the celebration.

"Yeah." Marron's eyes were burning, but she was smiling. "Just... processing. This is what Legendary Tools were meant for, isn't it? Community celebrations. Important moments. Feeding people when it matters most."

"Is that what you used today?" Millie asked quietly. "Your tools?"

"The copper pot for the sausage," Marron admitted. "But honestly? I don't think the tools are what made today work. It was just... people. Working together. Refusing to give up."

"The tools helped," Millie said. "But you're right. It was mostly people." She smiled. "Led by a chef who stress-cooks breakfast sandwiches and confronts guild masters in public hearings."

"That's not leadership, that's desperation."

"Sometimes they're the same thing."

The celebration continued late into the night, but eventually Marron headed home, exhausted and satisfied and already worrying about tomorrow.

Because Edmund Erwell was still out there. Still watching. Still waiting to have that conversation about preservation and value and things she carried.

The decree was survived. The vendors were safe.

But the next challenge was coming.

Marron could feel it.

[Quest Complete: Defend the Market]

[Result: Qualified Victory - All 50 vendors secured partnerships with conditional approval]

[Consequence: 6-month probationary period with additional oversight]

[Reward: Community Bond +10, Reputation +5, Street Vendor Alliance (Permanent)]

[Achievement Unlocked: Voice of the Voiceless - You defended those who couldn't defend themselves]

[New Status: You are now recognized as a community leader in Lumeria's food scene]

[Warning: Increased visibility brings increased danger. Edmund Erwell has made his interest explicit. Confrontation is inevitable.]

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