My Food Stall Serves SSS-Grade Delicacies!-Chapter 233: The Preservationist

Chapter 233: The Preservationist
The donations started arriving at dawn.
Marron woke to the sound of something being set down outside the guest hut—a soft thump, followed by retreating footsteps. Then another thump an hour later. Then another.
By the time she and Mokko emerged fully dressed, there was a small pile of goods stacked neatly by their door: a sack of flour, three jars of preserved fruit, a wheel of hard cheese wrapped in cloth, dried herbs bundled with twine, and a clay pot of what smelled like honey.
A note was tucked under the cheese, written in careful script:
Thank you for keeping the children occupied yesterday. We finished the south field fence in record time. Please accept these with our gratitude. —The Village
Marron stood staring at the pile, something warm and complicated rising in her chest.
"That’s a lot of food," Mokko said, crouching to examine the jars. "This is good preserved fruit. Not the cheap stuff."
"They gave us their winter stores," Marron murmured.
"Should we... not accept it?"
"No. We should accept it." She picked up the note, reading it again. "They’re not paying for magical food. They’re thanking us for being part of their community, even briefly."
The distinction felt important. The village had given her food not because she’d dazzled them with supernatural cooking, but because she’d done something simple and useful: kept their children happy and busy for an afternoon, which allowed the adults to work efficiently.
Basic human exchange. Service for service. Care for care.
In her pack, the Food Cart pulsed—so faintly she almost missed it.
Not warm. Not forgiving. But... considering.
They spent the morning integrating the donations into their supplies and preparing to move on. The village had been kind, but there wasn’t enough work here to justify staying longer. Besides, Marron could feel the pull of the road again—that restless need to keep moving, keep learning, keep searching.
For what, exactly, she wasn’t entirely sure anymore. The tools? Worthiness? Proof that she could function independently?
All of it, maybe.
They were loading the Food Cart—still heavy, still resentful, but at least allowing itself to be loaded—when a figure appeared at the edge of the village square.
A man, tall and thin, wearing scholar’s robes in deep blue with silver embroidery along the hems. He carried a leather satchel across his chest and a walking stick that looked more ceremonial than functional. His hair was gray at the temples, his face sharp and intelligent, and his eyes scanned the village with the assessing gaze of someone cataloging everything they saw.
Those eyes landed on Marron and narrowed.
Then they dropped to the Food Cart, and his whole body went rigid.
"That’s a Legendary Tool," he said. Not a question. An accusation.
Marron’s hand instinctively moved to her pack, where the other three tools suddenly went very, very quiet. Not silent—listening. Alert in a way that felt almost like warning.
"It’s a cart," she said carefully.
"It’s a cart," she said carefully.
"Don’t insult my intelligence." The man approached with quick, precise steps. "I’ve spent twenty years studying pre-Cataclysm artifacts. I know Legendary craftsmanship when I see it."
He stopped three feet away, his gaze moving over the cart with intense focus. Not touching it, but clearly wanting to.
"Where did you get this?"
"Found it."
"Found it." His tone made it clear how likely he thought that was. "And the others? How many do you have?"
Marron felt Mokko shift beside her, hand moving toward his definitely-not-a-sword knife.
"Who are you?" Marron asked, instead of answering.
The man seemed to remember himself. He straightened and placed his right hand over his heart in a formal scholar’s greeting. "Aldric Vess. I’m a researcher affiliated with the Lumerian Historical Preservation Society. I study the proper care and containment of dangerous artifacts."
"Containment," Marron repeated slowly.
"Yes. Legendary Tools are immensely powerful and poorly understood. They belong in controlled environments where they can be studied safely, not carted around by—" He gestured at her vaguely. "—wandering cooks who don’t understand what they’re carrying."
The Food Cart’s weight seemed to double suddenly, pressing down so hard the wheels sank slightly into the packed earth.
The other tools in her pack went from quiet to hostile in an instant. The Precision Blade vibrated against her back. The Copper Pot radiated cold fury. The Generous Ladle pulsed with something that felt like offense.
They didn’t like this man. At all.
"I understand them fine," Marron said, her voice harder than intended.
"Do you?" Aldric’s eyebrow rose. "Do you know how they were created? What materials were used? What binding magic holds them together? Whether they’re slowly poisoning you with residual Cataclysm energy?"
"They’re not—"
"You don’t know that. No one does. These artifacts are from a lost age, created with techniques we can barely comprehend. Using them without understanding their true nature is reckless at best and catastrophic at worst."
He took another step closer, his voice taking on the tone of someone explaining obvious facts to a stubborn child.
"I’ve studied under Edmund Cross—the foremost expert on Legendary artifacts in all of Lumeria. He’s documented seventeen cases of tools turning on their wielders. Corrupting them. Driving them mad with power. These things are dangerous, and they need to be secured before someone gets hurt."
Marron’s jaw tightened. "Edmund Cross thinks they should be locked away in vaults."
"Because that’s the responsible thing to do! These tools could reshape civilization or destroy it. They can’t be allowed to wander the countryside in the hands of—" He gestured at her again, that same dismissive wave. "—amateurs."
"I’m not an amateur," Marron said quietly. "I’m a cook."
"Exactly my point."
The dismissal in those two words hit harder than any insult.
Mokko made a noise that was half laugh, half warning. "You might want to rethink your approach here, scholar."
Aldric ignored him, his attention fixed on Marron and the cart. "I’m authorized by the Society to acquire dangerous artifacts for proper preservation. I can offer you fair compensation—more than fair, actually. Enough coin to set you up comfortably for years."
"They’re not for sale."
"Then I’ll have to this to the authorities. Unsecured Legendary artifacts are a matter of public safety."
" what?" Marron asked, her temper rising. "That I’m using a cart to cook food and feed people? That’s not a threat to anyone."