Seventhday - Dawn

Marron arrived at Millie's cart just as the first rays of sunlight touched the street market. The stalls were mostly empty at this hour—vendors wouldn't arrive for another few hours—but Millie was already there, her travel pack secured to a small two-wheeled cart of her own.

"Morning," Millie said, her ears perked up and alert. "Sleep well?"

"Not really," Marron admitted. "Too much thinking."

"Same." Millie gestured to her cousin Iris, who was standing nearby looking nervous but determined. "Final instructions delivered. The cart is in good hands."

Iris waved shyly. "Safe travels, Cousin Millie. I'll take care of everything, I promise."

"I know you will." Millie hugged her briefly, then turned to Marron with a businesslike expression. "All right. Let's do inventory before we leave. You have—?"

"Food supplies for two weeks, cooking equipment, the copper pot, medical kit, defensive equipment you gave me, maps, and approximately five hundred gold for emergencies."

"Good. I have: my own supplies, the enchanted compass, signal flares, weapons, first aid, and three hundred gold." Millie pulled out a detailed map. "Route plan: we follow the northern trade road for three days, then branch off toward the Whispering Forest. Once we reach the forest edge, we should meet Alexander's guide—assuming he got your letter and sent someone."

"And if there's no guide?"

"Then we use the compass and navigate carefully. It won't be fun, but it's doable." Millie rolled up the map. "Questions?"

"No. I think we're ready."

Mokko emerged from where he'd been securing the last of Marron's supplies. "As ready as we'll ever be."

Lucy burbled from her jar, forming an excited little star shape.

Millie smiled. "Then let's go. We're burning daylight."

They left Lumeria through the northern gate just after sunrise. The guards checked their travel papers—Marron's Guild certification made the process smooth—and waved them through with bored efficiency.

As the city walls receded behind them, Marron felt something settle in her chest. Relief mixed with anxiety mixed with anticipation.

She was really doing this.

Leaving safety and stability to chase a maybe.

But it felt right.

The northern trade road was well-maintained and busy with morning traffic. Merchants heading to smaller towns, adventurers looking for work, families relocating—the steady flow of people moving through Savoria's veins.

They walked in comfortable silence for the first hour, Marron pushing her cart while Millie pulled hers, Mokko carrying a pack, and Lucy secured safely in her jar in Marron's bag.

Around mid-morning, Millie spoke up. "So. Legendary Tools. You've been kind of vague about what they actually do. Want to educate me?"

Marron considered how much to share. "What do you want to know?"

"Everything. What makes them Legendary? How do they work? Why are you collecting them?"

"I'm not collecting them—I'm learning about them." Marron paused to adjust her grip on the cart. "But okay. From what I understand: Legendary Tools are items made by craftspeople so skilled their work transcends normal limitations. They're not enchanted with spells—they're imbued with intention and understanding so powerful it becomes functionally magical."

"Like your copper pot."

"Exactly. The pot doesn't have a spell that prevents boiling over. It just... understands heat. Understands patience. It works with me, not for me."

"And your food cart?"

Marron glanced at her cart, feeling its familiar presence. "The cart amplifies intent. When I cook with genuine care—wanting to nourish, comfort, help—the food comes out better. Not just technically better. Meaningfully better. It tastes like... safety. Like home."

Millie was quiet for a moment, processing. "So the tools respond to emotion? To intention?"

"Something like that. They require partnership. You can't just use them—you have to understand them, work with them, prove yourself worthy of them."

"That's why eleven people brought the pot back."

"They wanted it to do the work for them. But it doesn't work that way." Marron adjusted her pack. "These tools teach as much as they help. The cart taught me to care about who I'm feeding. The pot taught me patience. If this ladle exists, it'll teach me something too."

"What do you think it'll teach?"

"I don't know. Generosity, maybe? Alexander mentioned mimics have stories about it understanding hunger and need. So maybe it's about... giving. About serving others."

They walked in thoughtful silence for a while.

"And you think there are more?" Millie asked eventually.

"I think so. The stories vary—some say seven, some say thirteen. But there are definitely more out there."

"What happens when you collect them all?"

"I don't know. Maybe nothing. Maybe something." Marron looked at Millie. "Does that answer your questions?"

"For now." Millie's ears twitched with amusement. "Though I reserve the right to ask more later."

"Fair enough."

Three Days Later - Fourthday Afternoon

The northern trade road had gradually become less traveled as they moved away from Lumeria. By the third day, they were seeing maybe a dozen travelers a day instead of hundreds.

The landscape had changed too. Instead of Lumeria's cultivated fields and organized towns, there was wilder terrain. Rolling hills, dense patches of forest, streams that crossed the road at irregular intervals.

They'd settled into a rhythm: wake at dawn, walk until noon, break for lunch and rest, walk until evening, make camp, eat dinner, sleep. Repeat.

Marron cooked each evening, using the copper pot and experimenting with trail-friendly recipes. Millie was excellent company. She was practical, funny, good at keeping spirits up during the long walking hours.

Now, as the sun began its descent toward the horizon, they could see their destination in the distance.

The Whispering Forest.

It stretched across the northern horizon like a dark green wall—dense, old, and somehow ominous even from miles away.

"That's where we're going," Millie said, stating the obvious.

"That's where we're going," Marron confirmed.

"It looks... moody."

"Forests full of magical interference tend to be moody."

It stretched across the northern horizon like a dark green wall—dense, old, and somehow ominous even from miles away.

"That's where we're going," Millie said, stating the obvious.

"That's where we're going," Marron confirmed.

"It looks... moody."

"Forests full of magical interference tend to be moody."

They made camp at the edge of a small clearing, about an hour's walk from where the forest began. Tomorrow morning, they'd reach the forest edge and (hopefully) meet up with Alexander's guide.

Marron was preparing dinner (a hearty stew with dried vegetables and sausage, perfect for the copper pot's steady heat) when it happened.

A familiar ding! echoed in her mind.

She froze, ladle halfway to the pot.

The System.

It had been quiet for days—longer, actually. Ever since she'd started preparing for this journey. But now—

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