A ladle. Large, made of what appears to be silver-white tal that doesn’t tarnish. The handle is wrapped in preserved leather that should have rotted decades ago but remains supple and warm to the touch. The bowl is deep and perfectly ford, with strange markings along the interior—symbols that shift slightly when you look at them.
Keeper says the mimics have stories about items like this. "Kitchen treasures," they call them. Tools made by the old masters—craftspeople so skilled their work transcended the ordinary. According to the stories, these tools don’t just help with cooking. They understand it. They respond to intent and need.
I thought of you imdiately.
Your food cart seals dungeons—that’s extraordinary. The copper pot you wrote about sounds similar: quiet magic, responsive to the cook’s skill and intention.
I think this ladle might be one of those tools.
But here’s the problem: I can’t test it. None of us can. Mimics don’t cook the way humans do—we absorb, we mimic, but we don’t create from raw ingredients the way you do. When I tried to use the ladle, it felt inert. Like it was waiting for sothing, or soone.
Marron, would you be willing to visit New Brookvale? I know it’s a long journey, and I know there are risks. The settlent is remote, and while we have Guildmaster Halloway’s conditional protection, not everyone respects that. Mimics are still feared.
But if this ladle is what I think it is, then it belongs with soone who can use it properly. Soone who understands what these tools are and how to work with them.
If you do decide to co, bring companions. The roads north are safe enough, but the forest around New Brookvale can be tricky to navigate.
We can provide housing, food, anything you need during your stay.
The ladle isn’t going anywhere. It’s waited this long; it can wait a bit longer.
But I hope you’ll co.
Your friend,
Alexander, Lieutenant of New Brookvale
P.S. - An old mimic nad Keeper says he has more stories about "Kitchen Treasures." If you do visit, he’d be happy to share them. So are probably myth, but...all myths contain kernels of truth, don’t they?
"He was never this chatty in the dungeon," Marron mumbled as she finished reading the sixth page.
Marron read the letter twice, then a third ti, her heart pounding.
A ladle. Silver-white tal that didn’t tarnish. Symbols that shifted. Warm leather that shouldn’t still be preserved.
And mimic stories about "kitchen treasures."
"What does it say?" Mokko asked.
Marron handed him the letter and watched his expression change as he read.
"New Brookvale is at least a week’s journey north," he said slowly. "And you just got settled here. Classes, apartnt, community."
"I know."
"But you want to go."
Marron looked at the copper pot sitting on her counter, then at her food cart in the corner. Two Legendary Tools. Both discovered through dreams and persistence.
If there was a third tool out there—one that mimics had been guarding without even knowing it—could she really ignore that?
"I want to go," she admitted. "But I don’t know if I should. This is the first ti in years I’ve had stability. Do I really want to risk that for a maybe?"
"Why not both?" Mokko suggested. "You have an apartnt. It’ll still be here when you get back. Your classes—you could take a break, co back next session."
"But what if sothing goes wrong? What if—"
"What if the ladle is real?" Mokko interrupted. "What if it’s been waiting for decades, maybe centuries, for soone who can use it? What if you’re the only person who can unlock it, and you don’t go because you were afraid of losing comfort?"
Marron was quiet.
She thought about the mimic dungeon, about serving soup to creatures everyone else treated as monsters. About earning her certification by learning to see beauty and truth as partners. About the copper pot that eleven other people had dismissed as ordinary.
She’d spent so long running from purpose, hiding behind "bare minimum," protecting herself from caring too much.
But caring had brought her here. Caring had helped her find the copper pot, earn her certification, build friendships.
"I’m going," she said.
Mokko grinned. "I was hoping you’d say that."
"But not alone. Alexander said to bring companions." Marron stood and began pacing. "I’ll need to talk to the Guild about taking a leave from classes. Pack supplies. Figure out the route. And—"
She stopped, struck by a sudden thought.
"Millie."
"What about her?"
"She passed her certification the sa ti I did. She’s skilled, practical, and she knows more about Lurian culture and travel than I do." Marron grabbed her coat. "I’m going to ask if she wants to co."
The Street Market - Late Morning
Marron found Millie at her moon cake cart, serving a line of custors. The rabbitkin’s ears perked up when she saw Marron approaching.
"Give five minutes. Almost done with the morning rush."
Marron waited, watching Millie work—each moon cake stamped with that distinctive crescent moon and stars pattern, served on painted ceramic plates with genuine warmth.
When the last custor departed, Millie turned to Marron with a curious expression.
"You have that look."
"What look?"
"The ’I’m about to do sothing ambitious and possibly reckless’ look." Millie leaned against her cart. "What’s going on?"
Marron handed her Alexander’s letter. "Read this."
Millie’s crimson eyes scanned the letter, her ears shifting position as she read—first curious, then surprised, then thoughtful.
"A third Legendary Tool," she said. "In a mimic settlent."
"Maybe. Alexander thinks so."
"And you want to go find out."
"Yes. But it’s at least a week’s journey north, through forest, to a settlent that’s technically under protection but still controversial." Marron took a breath. "I’m going. But I’d feel better if I wasn’t going alone. So I’m asking: would you co with ?"
Millie was quiet, looking at the letter, then at Marron, then at her cart.
"I can’t leave for long. My cart is my livelihood. If I’m gone too long, I’ll lose my spot in the market."
"I know—"
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