Back at the apartment, Mokko listened to the registration problems with his characteristic calm while Marron sliced the Hearthstone Loaf and served it to everyone present.

Lucy got a tiny piece dissolved in water, which she absorbed with enthusiastic bubbling. Mokko took a slice and ate it with the careful attention of someone evaluating food professionally. Millie bit into hers and her eyebrows rose.

"This is struggle meal bread?" Millie asked around a mouthful. "This is good."

"That's the point," Marron said. "Henrik wanted me to understand that limited resources don't mean limited quality. This bread uses the cheapest possible ingredients but still tastes good and fills you up efficiently."

"It's certainly filling." Mokko was only halfway through his slice. "I can feel it settling. This would keep someone going through a hard day's work."

"That's exactly what it was designed for." Marron ate her own slice, feeling the same dense satisfaction she'd experienced at the Guild. One piece of this bread and you weren't hungry anymore. Your body had what it needed.

The Generous Ladle whispered in the back of her mind—need versus want. This bread understood that same principle. It gave you what you needed, not what you craved.

"Okay," Millie said, finishing her bread and pulling out papers. "Contingency plans. If the Merchant's Guild keeps rejecting registrations, what are our options?"

They brainstormed for an hour:

Option 1: Appeal every rejection individually, provide additional documentation, force the registrar to process them properly. Problem: Time-consuming, no guarantee of success.

Option 2: Have already-approved chefs take on additional vendor partnerships. Problem: Liability increases, some chefs might not be willing.

Option 3: Find restaurant owners sympathetic to the cause who'd offer fair partnerships. Problem: Most restaurants are either neutral or aligned with the Merchant's Guild.

Option 4: Publicly expose the registration rejections as Merchant's Guild interference. Problem: Could backfire, might make vendors look like troublemakers.

Option 5: Legal challenge to the decree itself through the Culinary Guild. Problem: Henrik said Guild Master Savorin won't move until his review is complete, which could take weeks.

None of them were perfect. All of them had risks.

"We implement all of them," Marron said finally. "Multi-layered approach. We appeal the rejections while simultaneously having approved chefs take on extra vendors as backup. We reach out to sympathetic restaurant owners quietly while preparing to go public if necessary. And we keep pressuring the Culinary Guild to move faster on their official review."

"That's a lot of moving parts," Mokko observed.

"I know. But we have help." Marron looked at Millie. "You're better at coordination than I am. Can you manage the vendor reshuffling if we need it?"

"Already making lists," Millie confirmed.

"Mokko, can you keep researching? Find out if there are legal precedents for this kind of bureaucratic interference. Give us ammunition if we need to go public."

"On it."

"And I'll..." Marron paused. What would she do? "I'll keep recruiting. Keep problem-solving. Keep being visible so the Merchant's Guild knows we're not backing down."

"Being visible is dangerous," Mokko reminded her. "Edmund Erwell is still watching."

"Let him watch." Marron felt her jaw set. "I'm not hiding. Not when fifty vendors are depending on this working."

Lucy burbled something that sounded supportive and formed a determined fist shape in her jar.

They worked until late evening, refining plans, drafting appeals, preparing for multiple contingencies. By the time Millie left and Mokko retired to his corner of the apartment, Marron was exhausted but felt marginally more prepared.

Seven days. Fifteen vendors at immediate risk. The Merchant's Guild actively sabotaging their solution.

And somewhere out there, Edmund Erwell was watching and taking notes, waiting for... something.

Marron looked at the remaining Hearthstone Loaf, wrapped carefully on her counter. Dense, humble, designed to last through difficult times.

"We're going to need to be like that bread," she murmured to Lucy, who'd stayed up with her. "Substantial. Efficient. Able to sustain ourselves through whatever comes next."

Lucy formed a bread-shaped lump in her jar, then added a little heart on top of it.

"Exactly," Marron said, smiling despite her exhaustion. "Bread with heart. That's us."

She finally went to bed, mind still spinning with contingency plans and appeals and the weight of fifty vendors' livelihoods resting on her ability to outmaneuver a bureaucracy that had infinitely more resources than she did.

But she'd made something from nothing before. She'd turned stale bread into the best part of a soup. She'd learned to work with Legendary Tools that chose their partners carefully.

She could figure this out too.

She had to.

[Quest Update: Defend the Market]

[Progress: 49/50 vendors secured (1 pending confirmation)]

[Complication: 15 vendors' partnerships at risk due to registration rejections]

[Time Remaining: 7 days]

[New Skill Learned: Hearthstone Loaf (Struggle Meal Mastery)]

[Understanding gained: Cooking with scarcity requires respect, not pity]

[Warning: The Merchant's Guild is actively working against you. Edmund Erwell continues to observe.]

The morning of Day 14 arrived with unseasonable cold and a bureaucratic summons.

Marron found the official notice slipped under her apartment door at dawn—heavy paper, wax seal, the kind of formal communication that meant someone with power wanted to make a point.

NOTICE OF EMERGENCY REGULATORY HEARING

Re: Compliance Review of Home-Based Restaurant Partnerships under Decree 47-B

Date: Today, 14th day of Greenmonth, 10:00 bells

Location: Merchant's Guild Administrative Hall, Upper District

Attendance: Mandatory for all registered home-based establishments claiming partnership with mobile food vendors

Failure to appear will result in immediate revocation of vendor licenses

Marron read it twice, her stomach sinking with each word.

They'd done it. The Merchant's Guild had found a way to contest the loophole, and they were doing it on the final day—when there was no time left for appeals or alternatives.

"Mokko," she called, her voice tight. "We have a problem."

Before her bear guardian responded, she heard the sound of a faucet running.

"I'll put a pot of coffee on for you."

By eight bells, twelve panicked chefs stormed Marron's tiny apartment.

Every single one had received the same summons—all the home-based establishments that had registered to partner with vendors. They crowded into Studio 3-C, hands clutched around the same notice.

Mokko poured cups of coffee for all of them.

"This is illegal," Kira said, pacing by the window. "They can't call a mandatory hearing on the deadline day itself. That's not proper procedure—"

"They're claiming it's an 'emergency regulatory review,'" Charlotte interrupted, reading from her copy of the notice. "Which apparently gives them authority to call immediate hearings. I checked the regulations last night."

"Of course you did," Thomas muttered. He was sitting on Marron's bed, looking exhausted. "So what do we do? Show up and hope they don't find a reason to reject all our partnerships? Or refuse and let them revoke the vendor licenses without a fight?"

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