Recognition and Responsibility

When she couldn't smell blood, Marron knew everything was going to be all right. Instead, there was a strong aroma of broth, burnt garlic, and cheap peppermint balm from a healer's kit.

The air shifted from the metallic tang of swords to the softness of survival. And from urgency, the chefs could band together and cook hearty meals with their remaining ingredients.

The monsters had been driven beyond the outer perimeter where they belonged. Now it was up to the Frostfall Culinary Guild to do the rest.

+

Now that Marron had the chance to relax, she breathed a sigh of relief. Although the memory of yellow eyes moving in unison still mad her skin crawl. Lucy was sleeping soundly near the debris near Marron's station, her lavender form gently pulsing beside a smashed crate.

Even in rest, her glow flickered like a heartbeat.

Healing didn't turn off.

Nearby, Mokko sharpened a new pair of knives with calm, practiced strokes.

His left shoulder was still bandaged, and though he grunted I'm fine whenever she looked, Marron saw it. There was tension in his massive frame, and she didn't doubt his readiness to attack whoever got too close.

He hasn't left my side since the last system ping.

Is this part of the culinary guardian business?

+

"Field cooks! Guild members! Citizens of Frostfall!"

Ashfall's voice cut through the twilight, pulling heads from wounds and weariness. Cheers followed—ragged, yes, but real. Not just relief. Gratitude. Awe, maybe.

Marron didn't feel proud.

She felt small.

Grounded, even.

Like someone who'd done what needed doing and had only just realized what that meant.

Lila was the first to reach her.

She clasped Marron's wrist in her good hand, the other hanging in a sling.

"You held the line," she said. "Not just with food. With heart."

Before Marron could speak, a young mage limped over—the same one Lucy had pulled back from venom's edge. He held a half-eaten dumpling wrapped in a scarf like it was holy.

"This kept me going," he said hoarsely. "When the poison hit, I thought I was gone. But then I tasted... I don't know. Hope, maybe. Like someone out there wanted me to live."

The system chimed:

[Trait Gained: Field Cook Reputation]Recognition from field units across regions. Morale boost on first interaction. Faster trust from command personnel.

Her breath caught.

The applause was acknowledgement. Her cooking started to mean something beyond flavor. 

In war, it provided support and ensured their soldiers kept on fighting.

Cooking really is magic in Savoria.

+

Later, the council gathered under canvas and oillamps. The quiet in the tent was thick with calculations.

"You saved lives," said Korith, fingers laced together. "That's not in question. But the way you saved them—buff chaining, high-tier synergy, combat integration—those aren't just generalist instincts."

Ashfall's eyes were heavy. "You drew the enemy's attention because your food worked. Too well."

Marron's throat felt tight.

"The question," the Head Councilor said, flat as cold iron, "is whether you're worth the risk."

They voted quietly, using pen and paper.

When Korith read the tally, his face betrayed nothing.

"You may remain in Frostfall," he said, "under supervision."

Sage stood before anyone else could speak.

"I'll take responsibility," he said. "She's not a liability. She's what we need."

+

After the others left, Sage found her by the fire. He knelt slowly, offering something wrapped in kitchen parchment. Inside, a sketch—charcoal on grease-stained paper. A woman with flour-dusted hands and a determined tilt to her mouth. Her eyes looked like Marron's when she was cooking for someone who mattered.

"Juno," Sage said. "My sister."

The words landed like a punch.

"She cooked like it was sacred. Like it was for strangers first, and for herself last." His voice was flat, but his hands trembled slightly. "I was supposed to protect her. But I wasn't enough."

He pressed a small, warm object into Marron's palm. A crystal-sugar token, flickering with shifting glyphs.

"She made this before her final trial. I think it's yours now."

[Item Acquired: Memory-Touched Token]Effect: Unlocks cooking memories under duress.Enables emotional infusion boosts during high stress.Warning: May cause emotional overflow.

Marron closed her fingers around it. The heat of it was strangely alive.

"I'll try," she whispered.

"You already are," he said.

+

That night, they circled the hearth again—no monsters, no sirens, just the soft lull of recovery. Mielle arrived with a battered pastry box, unceremoniously dropping it between them.

"Leftovers from battlefield baking," she explained. "Figured someone should bring dessert."

She threw a bear-shaped cream puff at Marron.

"Welcome to the strangest guild on the continent!" Mielle added. "You're stuck with us now."

Mokko raised an eyebrow at a sheepish Mielle, but bit into the pastry anyway.

Marron saw the edge of a grin, and figured Mielle had won him over.

Lucy stirred gently in the firelight, her lavender glow dimming and brightening in slow pulses.

Marron reached out, resting her hand on the slime's side. Lucy's body responded with a warm flicker—and then a soft, searching tendril curled around her wrist.

Ding!

[Bond Upgrade: Lucy → Deep Empathy Unlocked]Lucy can now detect emotional distress in owner.Healing effectiveness improves under emotional duress.Soothing contact may be initiated automatically.

"She's... worried about you," Mielle said, frowning slightly. "That's not normal slime behavior."

"She's not a normal slime," Marron murmured. "We take care of each other."

Mokko grunted, but he stayed close. 

And in their current predicament, it was enough.

+

Until Lila approached, her face taut in the firelight.

"There's something you need to hear," she said. "I didn't say it in front of the council, but… someone's asking questions."

Marron sat straighter.

"Not just 'who's the new chef,' either. They described your food. How your dumplings resonate longer than they should. How your broth shimmers when it's infused."

Marron's stomach dropped. "They've eaten my food."

Lila nodded slowly. "They told the innkeeper: If her food is still good, we'll leave peacefully."

The words hit like cold wind.

Not curiosity. Not even a threat.

A repeat.

Mokko's voice rumbled beside her. "They're testing again."

Lucy flickered anxiously. Her tendrils reached for Marron's wrist again—comfort, detection, fear. Marron felt the pressure behind her eyes rise.

She gripped the token from Sage.

Juno's mark.

It wasn't a warning. 

There would be a second visit, and they wouldn't be watching from the woods.