The Culinary Guild plaza was louder than Marron expected.
Music floated through the air from a string quartet perched on a balcony, blending with the clang of pans, the rush of steam vents, and bursts of applause from earlier contestants.
The Trial Hall itself stood at the center — a round, open-air arena with tiered seating, bright banners snapping in the breeze. The smell was everywhere: roasting spices, charred sugar, sizzling meat.
Mokko walked beside her with his usual steady pace, Lucy drifting along in lazy arcs.
At the main gate, a Guild official took Marron's name and handed her a silver token that pulsed faintly.
"Station four. Keep it visible."
Her station sat near the center, with simple tools, a small oven, and a row of fresh ingredients she'd requested.
Around her, other chefs had already begun to lay out elaborate arrays of copper molds and crystal vials.
One was carving a fruit sculpture shaped like a phoenix; another spun sugar in long, glowing ribbons that shimmered in the sun.
Mokko leaned closer. "They're not here for tricks. They're here for flavor."
"Easy for you to say."
He smirked. "Haven't you won your fair share of tough battles? You got this, chef."
She was about to reply when two chefs behind her whispered loudly enough for her to hear.
"Did you hear the rumor? Emily Spritz might judge the final trials."
"Really? I thought she just left whenever she has a Concerto."
"Mm. I wonder how they got her outside of her tower, or wherever she stays...?"
"Nah, nah. She wouldn't waste her time."
"Maybe not — unless she's scouting someone."
The words made her chest tighten, but Marron focused on unpacking her ingredients instead. She wasn't going to burn energy worrying about Emily now.
+
She lined up the ingredients for her lemonfinger ricotta cheesecake. The crust would be made from spiced bark biscuits ground into fine crumbs, mixed with a bit of sugar and butter until it held together in a sandy press.
An elf at the next station, glitter dust sparkling in their hair, leaned over with a smile that didn't quite reach their eyes.
"So, what's your dish?"
"Cheesecake," Marron said simply.
"That's… brave." The elf looked a little concerned for her.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing, just...no decorations? Nothing extra? I'm doing a triple-layer frostfire torte, myself."
Now Marron was confused. "No...just some dusting of powdered sugar. Why?"
The elf returned to her recipe book, a silver bowl in front of her. "Well...it's just...when you go too simple, the judges might expect you to have perfect technique for that one thing. So..."
She poured some heavy cream into a saucepan, and a flaming puffball lit her stove. "it takes guts to go the simple route, is all I'm saying."
"Oh...well, thanks. I'll keep that in mind. Good luck."
Her tone was polite, but Lucy drifted between them with a faint orange flicker until the elf retreated.
Marron's hands started trembling, and she held onto one of Lucy's tendrils to steady herself. Lucy, on the other hand, cooled her body to a soothing temperature, then patted her hand with the tendril.
It was like she was saying, "it's going to be okay."
A Guild vendor wandered past holding a tray.
"Guild nuts? Honey-toasted almonds, courtesy of the house."
Marron took a handful. "Thanks. If I eat all these before starting, do I get disqualified?"
"Only if you spill them in the batter."
The officiator's voice boomed: "Contestants, you have two hours. Begin!"
+
Marron started with the crust, pressing the biscuit crumbs into the pan. She melted the Sunmelt Drops over low heat, their creamy sweetness filling the air.
She zested the lemonfinger fruit — long, curling yellow tendrils that smelled like a mix of lemon, wildflowers, and something faintly herbal. The zest released oils instantly, perfuming the counter. She folded it into the ricotta along with eggs, sugar, a pinch of sea-salt flakes, and a whisper of ground cardamom and nutmeg for warmth.
Above, a magical screen projected her movements. She heard the crowd murmur — not in awe, but in curiosity at her simple, steady approach. Around her, chefs tossed flaming pans and summoned ice sculptures. Marron kept her focus on the batter, smooth and pale gold.
She poured it over the crust and slid the pan into the oven, adjusting the heat carefully.
+
There was a clatter at the next station. The elf's jar of candied firefruit rolled across the counter and nearly tipped off the edge. Marron caught it before it shattered and handed it back.
"Thanks," the elf muttered.
"No problem."
She checked her cheesecake — still baking evenly — and started whipping cream with more lemonfinger zest. A quick dusting of sugarbark salt gave it a faint shimmer.
Lucy drifted up to the magical screen and blocked the view for several seconds. The crowd chuckled, and Marron hid a smile.
+
When the timer bell rang, Marron removed the cheesecake from the oven. The surface was smooth with just the faintest wobble in the center. She let it rest for a few moments, then dusted it with powdered sugar and added a curl of lemonfinger zest to each slice.
She plated three servings and carried them to the judges' table.
Brine Garrick, the wolfkin head judge, took the first bite. His ears twitched, then he sat back with a slow exhale.
The halfling pastry master tasted next, nodding. "Balanced. Gentle. Confident."
The third judge, a woman in an emerald coat, wrote one short line in her ledger before giving Marron the smallest of smiles.
Marron returned to her station, heart pounding, waiting for her score. The cheering of the crowd faded into a low hum in her ears.
This was it. She tried her best, and all she could hope for was a passing score. Lumeria was full of talented chefs, after all. Flashier than her.
But this was her story on a plate. Hopefully the judges would understand.
I can't believe this is happening to me. A few days ago I was worrying about my sales targets while working a desk job.
I wish I did this sooner.
Marron's heart was pounding, but she was, undoubtedly, the happiest she'd ever been in a long time.
And that terrified her.