"And yet," Ashfall said slowly, his tone thoughtful, "those fries carried as much emotional weight as any pastry I've tasted. Perhaps more, because they were so honest."
Korith was nodding, pieces clicking into place. "If she's not bound by traditional specialization, that would explain the inconsistency in our reports. Street food one day, comfort soups the next, baked goods that rival guild standards..."
"It also," the Head Council Member said quietly, "makes her significantly more difficult to categorize. And to control."
Marron felt the weight of their realization settling over the room like a heavy blanket. She'd always known her cooking was different—that she could make nearly anything if she put her heart into it. But she'd never understood how unusual that was in their world.
"The emotional infusion is harder to control across multiple disciplines," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "I have to be so careful, especially when I'm stressed or tired. Sometimes the feelings I put into the food are stronger than I intend."
Sage's expression grew almost protective. "Which makes this trial even more remarkable. You've been managing that control under intense pressure, haven't you?"
Marron nodded, suddenly feeling exhausted by the weight of constant vigilance she'd maintained throughout the examination.
+
Sage leaned forward, his voice gaining strength. "The guild hasn't seen a true generalist in generations. She could revitalize multiple departments, bring back techniques we've lost to over-specialization."
Lila's eyes brightened with something like wonder. "My grandmother was a generalist too, before specialization became doctrine. This is a return to the old ways—when chefs traveled and adapted to whatever people needed."
Even the Head Council Member seemed momentarily impressed. "Remarkable control for someone managing such broad emotional range under trial conditions."
Ashfall nodded grimly. "If she can maintain this level of discipline across all disciplines, she's exactly what the outer territories need. Versatile, mobile, effective."
But then Korith's expression shifted, troubled realization creeping across his weathered features. "Wait. If she's not specialized, how do we measure her? Our entire ranking system assumes focused expertise."
The fourth judge straightened in alarm. "Unspecialized emotional cooking was banned for good reason. The historical records of generalists show... instability. Dangerous power fluctuations as they aged."
The Head Council Member's brief admiration crystallized into cold calculation. "Without specialization limits, what's to stop her from accidentally influencing an entire town? Or worse—doing it intentionally?"
From somewhere behind the judges' table, someone whispered, "The last generalist burned down half of Westmarch. They called it an 'accident.'"
Another voice, barely audible: "And when she lost control, she took an entire guild chapter with her."
Sage's face fell as the implications hit him. "The monitoring protocols we discussed... they're designed for specialists. We have no framework for someone like her."
"Her honesty," Ashfall said slowly, "which seemed virtuous moments ago, now appears... naive. Does she even understand her own potential for harm?"
The room's energy had shifted completely. Marron felt the weight of their fear pressing down on her, turning her greatest strength into her most damning weakness.
Sage opened his mouth to offer some solution--maybe he was thinking about taking personal responsibility for her supervision. That would allow her to continue traveling under his guidance.
That would be a return to the old ways, Sage realized. When culinary guardians like Mokko were common and chefs wandered freely under guild protection.
It wasn't like the flimsy promises of today--where wandering chefs had to hire a party of adventurers, because their guardians were pocket-sized.
+
The massive chamber doors burst open with a resounding crash that echoed off the marble walls. A town guard stumbled in, his uniform torn and muddy, eyes wild with panic.
"Forgive the intrusion!" he gasped, struggling to catch his breath. "But monsters—there are monsters at the town borders! Closer than we've seen in years!"
The judges rose as one, their debate forgotten in the face of immediate crisis.
"How close?" Ashfall demanded.
"Half a day's march, maybe less. The adventuring parties we sent out... they're taking heavy losses. No way to heal properly, no way to revive the fallen."
The guard's voice cracked. "We've already lost two parties. The Hendrix twins... they're not coming back."
His hands shook as he continued.
"The monsters aren't just attacking—they're organized. Like something's directing them. We've got Balen's flame ragu to boost their attacks, and Mielle's meat buns for defense, but it's not enough. They need more support, more variety of buffs, or we're going to lose people."
Korith was already moving toward a communications crystal. "Alert all registered chefs in the district. Emergency protocols."
"We've tried," the guard said desperately. "Every food vendor, every chef willing to help. But most of them are specialists. The most they offer is one type of enhancement only. The adventurers need healing, stamina restoration, defensive buffs, attack boosts—more variety than our current chefs can provide individually."
A heavy silence fell over the chamber. Slowly, every pair of eyes turned toward Marron.
The Head Council Member's voice was carefully neutral. "Miss Louvel. You claim to work across multiple disciplines. Can you create the variety of supportive dishes our defenders require?"
Marron felt her heart hammering. This wasn't just about her trial anymore.
People's lives hung in the balance.
"I... yes. I think so. Healing broths, energy-restoring foods, protective dishes. I've made them before."
"Consider this," Sage said quietly, "an extension of your examination. Under emergency conditions, with lives at stake."
The unspoken agreement between them was clear: prove you can control your abilities when it truly matters.
The consequences if she failed would be higher than just personal disappointment.
+
As Marron stepped toward the door, her cooking interface flashed urgent red.
[WARNING: High-stress cooking detected. Emotional cascade risk: CRITICAL][Recommend: Refuse request]
She closed the notification with a mental swipe and kept walking.
Behind her, she heard Sage whisper to the Head Council Member: "If she loses control out there, with her emotions running this high... we might lose more than a few adventurers."
But it was too late. The guard was already leading her toward the sounds of distant screaming, and Marron could feel something dangerous stirring in her chest—not fear, but the terrible, overwhelming need to save everyone she could.
Even if it destroyed her in the process.