Day 6: The Trial

When she stepped into Kitchen Seven, Marron felt a visceral fear, like she was a wild animal cornered in a cage. 

Like I stepped into that pastry class all over again.

It was a sterile white marble room with gleaming steel accents, designed to intimidate than inspire. There were five high-backed chairs facing one state-of-the-art cooking station. 

She heard the soft humming of magical monitoring equipment and understood why Juno felt like she was inside a golden cage.

They also want to find a reason to stifle me. I never went into another pastry class after that.

The council members filed in with ceremonial precision, their footsteps echoing in the vast space.

Marron's breath caught as she took them in—this wasn't just a panel of instructors.

These were legends.

Sage entered first, his mint-green cloak a splash of color in the clinical space. He took his seat without meeting her eyes, playing his role perfectly.

Beside him sat a sharp-faced human woman in gray robes—the Head Council Member, whose expression suggested she'd rather be dissecting a particularly unpleasant specimen.

Then came the creatures.

Korith, the frost giant, had to duck through the doorway. His massive frame settled into a reinforced chair with careful grace, ice crystals forming in the air around him before he controlled his natural aura. His pale blue eyes were kind but ancient, and Marron could see calluses on his enormous hands from decades of delicate pastry work.

Lila Sweetbriar fluttered in next—literally. The fairy's gossamer wings caught the magical lighting as she settled into her chair, which had been scaled to accommodate her diminutive size. She radiated the warm efficiency of someone who'd spent centuries making sure large families were well-fed and happy.

Finally, Ashfall ducked through the doorway, his dragon beast-kin heritage evident in the scales that traced his jawline and the way heat shimmered around his hands. Ash streaked his dark hair like war paint, and when he smiled at Marron, she glimpsed teeth that were just slightly too sharp.

"We've received reports about your cart guardian. A bear that large hasn't been seen since the wandering chef era," Korith rumbled, his voice like distant avalanches as he studied Mokko.

The Head Council Member's gaze sharpened. "Indeed. Most guardians these days are pocket-sized. A bear of that magnitude suggests... ambition."

Mokko's ears flattened slightly, but he said nothing. Marron caught Sage's subtle nod of approval—he understood the significance too.

"Marron of Whetvale," the Head Council Member continued, consulting a crystal tablet that glowed with her notes. "Four days of regulated service. Three successful emotional infusions, though with concerning power fluctuations. You're here because your abilities require... assessment."

Marron's system interface flickered to life in her peripheral vision:

[Trial Parameters Detected

Objective: Demonstrate Control Without Revealing True Capabilities

Warning: Magical Monitoring Active]

She forced herself not to look directly at the notifications, instead focusing on the council's expectant faces.

"We'll begin simply," Lila said, her voice carrying the musical quality common to her people. "Create something that evokes pure joy. Nothing overwhelming, nothing that might cause emotional overflow in the consumer. Show us your control."

A basic test, but Marron knew better than to underestimate it. She moved to the ingredient station—pristine, perfectly organized, everything a chef could want. Her hands found familiar rhythms as she selected vanilla beans, butter, sugar, eggs.

Simple vanilla cookies. Nothing fancy, nothing that would reveal the techniques still echoing from Juno's workshop.

As she worked, her system chimed softly:

[Skill Active: Precise Emotional Infusion

Effect: Joy (Controlled) - Intensity Level 3/10]

She had to resist the urge to track the text with her eyes. Instead, she focused on the cookies, infusing them with the gentle happiness of afternoon sunshine, the quiet satisfaction of a job well done.

Nothing dramatic or too memorable.

When she presented them to the council, each member took a measured bite.

The room filled with the subtle warmth of contentment—no overwhelming bursts of laughter, no tears of joy. Just the gentle lifting of spirits that good food should provide.

"Adequate control," the Head Council Member noted, making marks on her crystal tablet. Her hood was up but from the way her head moved independently from her body, Marron was reminded of the adventurer with the forked tongue.

"Though...your technique is far too advanced for someone with only four days of formal training."

Marron bristled. She wasn't a complete newbie.

"While I have only four days of formal training, I have been cooking for around 12 human years."

Ashfall leaned forward, smoke curling from his nostrils. "The infusion was seamless. Most novices show obvious magical boundaries in their work. Yours was... integrated."

Marron's heart hammered.

Was that good or bad?

Sage cleared his throat. "Shall we proceed to the next assessment?"

The Head Council Member nodded and gestured to an assistant, who brought forward a covered dish. When the cloth was pulled away, Marron's breath caught.

Hazelnuts. Perfect, glossy brown, still in their husks.

"Your second test," Korith said, his massive voice surprisingly gentle. "Work with these. Show us how you handle unfamiliar ingredients."

The moment Marron's fingers touched the first hazelnut, the world tilted sideways.

Flash.

She was in a different kitchen—Juno's workshop, but alive with activity instead of frozen in time. Juno stood at the workstation, her face drawn with exhaustion but her hands steady as she worked.

Hazelnuts scattered across the marble surface, some cracked, others whole. The scent of burnt sugar filled the air from a dozen failed attempts.

"Not right," Juno muttered, crushing another pastry shell that had cracked under the weight of its filling. "The cream is too heavy. The nuts need to be... lighter somehow. Like they're floating in a pool instead of drowning in butter."

Marron felt Juno's frustration as if it were her own, the crushing weight of knowing exactly what she wanted to create but not quite how to achieve it. This was the last recipe Juno had been perfecting—a hazelnut cream pastry that would taste like autumn mornings and childhood wonder.

Flash.

Marron was back in Kitchen Seven, hazelnuts still cupped in her palm. The vision had lasted only seconds, but she now carried the phantom weight of Juno's unfinished work.

"Are you quite alright?" Lila asked, concern coloring her musical voice.

"Just... considering possibilities," Marron managed, hoping her voice sounded steadier than she felt. And while she clearly saw how hard Juno worked for the hazelnut cream, she had no idea what pastry she was making.

Back on Earth, however--she had heard of a recipe called a Paris Brest. 

I've only ever seen people making choux pastry, but...maybe that's all I need. Just this once...I want to tap into Juno's skill.

Marron preheated her oven and lined a baking sheet with some baking paper. Using a piece of softened charcoal, she drew four small circles on it, and then floured some parchment.

Now comes the choux pastry. Some minesalt, crystal sugar, dreambutter, and...sweetmilk? That's new. 

Once the mixture started bubbling, she removed it from the heat and started praying as she beat it with a wooden spoon. 

When it formed a dough, Marron breathed a sigh of relief. Lila's face was slightly concerned about the way the chef beat the mixture, but it relaxed when she saw the dough.

Marron put the mix back in the pan and heat it for a little bit--when she checked it again, something inside her said 'it was done.'

Probably Juno's spirit.

When it cooled slightly, Marron beat eggs into the dough until it became smooth and glossy. Finally, she put it in a piping bag to make a ring, and put it in the oven.

Okay. So a hazelnut cream...

The same inner voice instructed her, and she moved with borrowed confidence. Her hands followed patterns Juno dreamed of but never completed.

Toast the hazelnuts until their skins slipped away like whispered secrets.

Grind them fine, but not too fine—texture was crucial.

The cream needed to be light, almost ethereal, infused with just a hint of vanilla and the faintest touch of starlight essence.

[Skill Unlocked: Legacy Technique Integration

Memory Resonance Active: Juno's Unfinished Work

Warning: Advanced Technique May Draw Attention]

The pastry shells came together like meditation—delicate, golden, strong enough to hold dreams.

She piped the hazelnut cream with spiraling motions that felt both foreign and familiar, each pastry topped with a single candied hazelnut that gleamed like a jewel.

When she finished, the kitchen smelled like autumn magic.

"Interesting approach," Ashfall observed, though his tone suggested he found it more concerning than interesting. "That piping technique—where did you learn it?"

"It just... felt right," Marron said, which was true enough.

Each council member accepted a pastry. Sage bit into his with careful neutrality, though she caught the flash of recognition in his eyes.

Lila's face lit up with delight—the flavor clearly reminded her of family gatherings and celebration.

Ashfall nodded approvingly, appreciating the technical skill even if he couldn't fully identify its origins.

The Head Council Member made notes, her expression unreadable.

But when Korith took his first bite, everything changed.

The massive frost giant went completely still, his pale blue eyes widening in something that looked like shock. The temperature around him dropped several degrees as frost began forming on his hands—an involuntary response that most frost giants learned to control in childhood.

His voice, when it came, was barely a whisper: "She never finished it..."

The other council members turned to stare at him. Korith's shoulders began to shake—this mountain of a being suddenly as vulnerable as a child.

"How did you..." His voice cracked entirely. "This is exactly what she was trying to create. Exactly. Down to the starlight essence in the cream."

The Head Council Member's pen stopped moving. "Korith, what exactly are you recognizing?"

Sage had gone rigid in his chair, understanding flashing across his face. Lila's wings fluttered with nervous energy, her maternal instincts clearly sensing something dangerous in the air. Ashfall's nostrils flared, smoke beginning to curl more thickly as his predator instincts engaged.

Korith realized too late that he'd revealed something he shouldn't have. His massive hands trembled as he set down the pastry.

"I... I studied with many pastry masters," he said weakly. "The technique just seemed... familiar."

But the damage was done. The other council members were looking between Korith and Marron with expressions that ranged from sharp interest to barely concealed alarm.

The Head Council Member's voice cut through the tension like a blade: "It seems we need to have a much longer conversation about your... abilities, Miss Marron."