My Food Stall Serves SSS-Grade Delicacies!

That night, sleep betrayed her.

Marron dreamed she was running through a cavern lit by blood-red crystal flowers with thorny stems, her footsteps echoing on wet stone. The air was heavy with the scent of moss and rot. Her hands clutched a box of onigiri, but when she tried to hand them to someone in the dark, they dissolved into ash.

A roar shook the ground. She stumbled forward—only to find herself at the lip of an endless pit. From below, claws scraped stone, closer, closer—

"—Marron!"

She jolted awake, drenched in sweat, the scream still on her lips. Mokko loomed over her, ears flattened, worry etched into his face. Lucy hovered at his side, her ribbon trembling like a living thing.

"You were screaming," Mokko said gently. "I didn't want to shake you, but it sounded… bad."

Her throat felt raw. "Dungeon," she whispered. "I fell, and—" Her hands shook uncontrollably.

Mokko moved without hesitation. "Stay here."

He disappeared into the kitchen and returned minutes later with a steaming cup and a small plate. He held the cup out first. "Drink."

She obeyed, sipping carefully. The milk was warm, thickened with honey, its sweetness soothing the burn in her chest. The plate held little cookies shaped like paws, crumbly and rich. She bit one, and the buttery comfort melted against her tongue.

"Stuff a chef you worked with taught you?" she asked, voice still hoarse.

Mokko's lips twitched into a smile. "Yup. He specialized in healing people through food—nightmares included. I've been fortunate to work with amazing people, Marron. And now I can use that to help you."

Her eyes blurred, but she managed a shaky laugh. "Then I guess I'm really lucky too."

He set the empty cup aside and rested a hand over hers, steady and grounding. "You don't have to face any of this alone."

For the first time that night, Marron believed him.

+

Sleep didn't return, but Marron didn't waste the hours before dawn. She pulled on her apron, rolling up her sleeves, and turned her attention to the mixing bowl waiting on the counter. The ube beignet batter gleamed a soft violet under lantern light, thick with sweet yam puree and yeasty air bubbles. She folded in the cubes of cheese carefully, working slow so they'd keep their shape.

"This will have to hold until Whetvale," she murmured.

From the corner of the cart, the faint hum of the upgraded cold box answered her. Marron ladled the finished batter into a sealed container and nestled it inside the chilled compartment. The cool air licked across her fingers as she shut the lid, locking away tomorrow's work.

She exhaled, brushing flour from her palms. The onigiri could be assembled ahead of time, but the beignets would be fried to order—fresh, hot, and irresistible. That was the promise she wanted Whetvale to taste.

Lucy bobbed sleepily at her shoulder, and Mokko leaned against the counter, watching her work with quiet pride. Marron gave them both a tired smile.

"Alright," she whispered, mostly to herself, "we're as ready as we can be."

She then carefully put Lucy inside of her glass jar before finally getting some more rest.

+

The nightmare left her shaken, but by the time dawn arrived, her nerves had mostly calmed down. The Commons were covered in pale gold, and it was hard not to smile.

Marron woke up feeling much better, and now had her sleeves rolled up and a skillet sizzling. She wasn't about to leave Meadowbrook without giving everyone a good breakfast.

Fluffy pancakes stacked high, scrambled eggs folded soft and buttery, and baskets of yesterday's bakery bread warmed by the hearth filled the air with a comforting scent. Marron set platters out across the tables, watching with a quiet, maternal satisfaction as dwarves, wolfkin, and humans alike drifted in, rubbing sleep from their eyes.

Dori lingered by her elbow, watching every step with sharp attention. He held one of Marron's handwritten recipe cards, lips moving as he sounded out her careful notes. "So… three eggs, whisk with a pinch of salt… fold gently, don't stir too much…" He glanced up, cheeks a little pink. "You wrote it so clearly, I think even I can follow it."

"You'll do great," Marron assured him, ladling another pancake onto the skillet. "Cooking isn't about being perfect. It's about making people feel full and cared for. You already have that part down."

He puffed his chest up a little at that, nodding.

By the time everyone had eaten their fill, Charity was already fussing with the last details of the cart. She brushed flour off her dress, looking Marron over critically, then broke into a grin. "Go on ahead. I'll meet you in Whetvale once the walls here are up. And not just wood walls, either—we're going for stone this time, thanks to our dwarves."

"Aye," Borin rumbled proudly from where he sat polishing his tools. "Humans and their building aesthetic confuses me sometimes. Why do most of you like wood and shy away from mortar? I only ever see big cities with thick walls."

Balen leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. "If they're smaller towns, mostly because trees are plentiful and easier to build with. And a lot of people don't actually know how mortar is made. It takes skill, and patience."

Borin snorted, as if that were the most baffling thing in the world. "No wonder raiders keep finding easy targets."

Marron chuckled nervously, though the words carried a weight she didn't miss. She glanced toward the cart waiting outside, stocked with rice balls wrapped neatly and the cold box humming with violet dough. The day ahead loomed large, but with the warmth of breakfast lingering and her friends bustling around her, she felt a little steadier.

+

"Be careful about the dungeon sightings," Marron called as she, Mokko, and Lucy paused at the newly constructed gate. The stone walls rose impressively high, sturdy and proud, with a new lookout spot perched above like a guardian eye.

"You don't worry your pretty head about us," one of the dwarven women replied with a smirk, hefting her hammer. "We'll hold our own until you come back."

The snakekin apprentice raised a ladle like a weapon. "Chef Balen will cover raiders in exploding tofu!"

"As many as they can stomach," Balen shot back dryly. Then his grin softened as he waved. "If you do end up joining the Culinary Guild, Marron, make sure to tell them I sent you!"