"I ran a food cart on Earth for three years before I ca here," Jenny said. "Small business managent isn’t new to . Just had to translate the concepts to Savoria’s systems." She refilled both their glasses. "So. Are you in?"
"I have questions first," Marron said. She pulled out a clean sheet of paper, started making notes. "Training schedule—how long does it take to teach both products?"
"Two days," Jenny said. "Day one is carbonation thod and soda flavoring. Day two is crisp technique and seasoning blends. We teach them together so they understand how the products complent each other."
"And we’re teaching together?" Marron asked. "Or splitting up?"
"Together for the first few rounds," Jenny said. "Once we have the training process refined, we can split up to scale faster. But initially, I think we should co-teach. Makes sure we’re presenting a unified approach."
"Cost of training?" Marron asked. "Are we charging separately for that?"
"Twenty copper per vendor for the two-day training," Jenny said. "Covers our ti and the practice ingredients they’ll use during learning. After that, they’re on their own except for monthly check-ins."
"Which we’re doing for free?" Marron asked. "As part of the licensing fee?"
"Exactly. The licensing fee covers our ongoing support, quality checks, and access to our supplier network. They’re paying for the system, not just the recipes."
Marron made more notes. "What about recipe modifications? If a vendor wants to experint with new flavors or techniques?"
"Encouraged," Jenny said imdiately. "As long as they maintain our base standards. If they develop sothing good, we might even add it to our official offerings and give them credit. Creates investnt in the franchise success."
"And if they want to stop? Cancel their franchise?"
"Thirty-day notice, no penalties," Jenny said. "We’re not trying to trap people. If it’s not working for them, they can leave. They just can’t keep using our exact recipes and thods—that’s in the contract."
"Enforcent?" Marron asked. "How do we stop soone from just teaching our thods to their friends?"
Jenny grimaced. "Honestly? We can’t, not completely. But we can make it socially and economically disadvantageous. If they break contract, we revoke their supplier discounts, we spread word through the vendor network that they’re untrustworthy, we make it clear that breaking agreents has consequences." She paused. "It’s not perfect. But we’re working in a community-based market. Reputation matters. Most vendors won’t risk their standing for a few copper."
That was probably as good as they could get without expensive legal enforcent. Marron made a note about it anyway—sothing to think about as they scaled.
"Liability," Marron said. "If a franchised vendor causes food poisoning or has a health issue, who’s responsible?"
"Them," Jenny said firmly. "That’s in the contract explicitly. We provide training and standards, but they’re independent operators. They’re responsible for their own food safety, their own custor service, their own business practices. We’re licensors, not partners."
"But if there’s a widespread problem—like contaminated ingredients from one of our approved suppliers—"
"Then we all deal with it together," Jenny said. "But that’s a ’crossing bridges when we co to them’ situation. We can’t plan for every possible disaster."
Fair enough. Marron reviewed her notes, checking for gaps. "What about our own cart operations? Are we still working our individual carts alongside the franchise?"
"Absolutely," Jenny said. "The franchise is passive inco, not replacent inco. At least not initially. We keep working our own carts, keep building our own businesses. The franchise just supplents and scales our reach."
"And if one of us wants to stop cart work eventually?" Marron asked. "Focus on other things?"
"The franchise continues," Jenny said. "We split managent responsibilities, adjust our involvent as needed. The system should be robust enough to run without requiring both of us constantly present." She t Marron’s eyes. "I know you’re hunting Legendary Tools. I know that might take you away from Luria sotis. This franchise model is designed to give you inco even when you’re not actively working the cart."
That... was exactly what Marron needed. The decree crisis had shown her how vulnerable she was when focused on one thing. She needed sustainable inco that didn’t require her constant presence.
"Okay," Marron said slowly. "I think I’m in. But I want to start small—maybe two or three franchisees initially. Test the system, work out the kinks, make sure the training and quality control actually function before we scale up."
"Agreed," Jenny said imdiately. "I’ve already got two vendors interested—both approached after seeing our cart success. One wants to add crisps and soda to their existing pastry cart. Another is a new vendor wanting to start with our products from day one."
"And the third?"
"Your friend Arrow," Jenny said. "The owl-kin bread vendor. She approached yesterday, asked if she could add crisps to her offerings. Said you’d saved her business during the decree crisis and she wanted to support your expansion."
Marron felt warmth spread through her chest. Arrow. Quiet, anxious Arrow who made beautiful bread and had nearly lost everything. Now wanting to be part of this franchise, to build sothing together.
"Then Arrow’s definitely in," Marron said. "So we train three vendors, see how it goes, adjust our approach based on what we learn."
"Perfect." Jenny raised her glass. "To the Earth Food Franchise Network. May it make us just enough money to not worry constantly."
"I’ll drink to that," Marron said, clinking glasses.
They drank, reviewed the contracts one more ti, made minor adjustnts to language, and agreed on a training schedule. First session would be in four days—enough ti to prepare training materials and source practice ingredients.
"There’s one more thing," Jenny said as she was packing up her papers. She pulled out a small notebook, more worn than the others. "This is personal, not business. But I’ve been keeping records of Earth people I’ve t in Savoria."
Marron’s attention sharpened. "How many?"
"Seventeen confird," Jenny said. "Just people I’ve run into over twelve years who ntioned Earth or recognized Earth foods or had that specific confused nostalgia that only displaced people have."
She handed Marron the notebook. "Their nas, what districts they’re in, what they’re doing. So have moved on or disappeared. But I thought... maybe you’d want to know. That there are others."
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