The wait felt endless.
Marron sat on a bench in the hallway, her tools packed away but still humming faintly with anxiety that matched her own. The Champion stood nearby, arms crossed, watching the closed chamber doors with an unreadable expression. Mokko paced. Jenny and the others had gathered in a small cluster, speaking in low voices.
"How long does it take to vote?" Mokko muttered. "It’s been over an hour."
"ans they’re debating," Jenny said. "That’s actually good. If Edmund had the votes locked in, this would be over already."
"Or it ans they’re arguing about how severely to punish her," Dren countered.
"Not helping," Mokko said.
Marron barely heard them. She was replaying the demonstration in her mind—every cut, every temperature adjustnt, every mont where she’d relied on the tools versus trusting her own skill. The burned chicken. The overcooked rice. The perfect soup that had required almost no thought.
Had she proven she was in control? Or proven she was dependent?
She honestly didn’t know anymore.
The Copper Pot pulsed against her back: Whatever happens, we chose you.
And I chose you, Marron thought back. That has to an sothing.
It ans everything, the pot replied. Regardless of what they decide.
The chamber doors finally opened.
The clerk erged, his face professionally neutral. "Marron Louvel. The Council is ready to deliver its verdict."
Marron stood on shaking legs. The Champion moved to her side, a solid presence, and together they walked back into the chamber.
The twelve Council mbers were all seated again, their expressions ranging from thoughtful to troubled to sothing that might have been sympathetic. Edmund sat in his high seat, looking older than he had two hours ago, the weight of whatever decision they’d reached visible in the lines around his eyes.
Marron returned to the brass circle on the central platform. Her throat was dry. Her hands were cold.
"Marron Louvel," Edmund said, his voice carrying through the chamber. "The Council has deliberated on your case. We have reviewed the evidence, heard testimony from multiple witnesses, observed your demonstration, and debated at length what course of action best serves both your interests and the public good."
He paused, and Marron couldn’t breathe.
"This was not an easy decision. The Council was divided. Several mbers argued passionately for imdiate confiscation of your artifacts, citing legitimate concerns about long-term dependency and potential corruption. Others argued equally passionately for your right to continue your partnership, citing your demonstrated skill and responsibility."
Edmund looked directly at her. "After much debate, we have reached a decision by majority vote. Seven votes to five."
Seven to five. Close. Too close.
"The Council has decided..." Edmund took a breath. "...to allow you to retain possession of your Legendary Tools."
The world tilted.
Marron grabbed the edge of the platform to steady herself. The tools in her pack erupted with joy—not loud, not overwhelming, but definitely celebration.
"However," Edmund continued, his voice sharpening, "this permission cos with significant conditions."
Of course. Of course it couldn’t be simple.
"First," Edmund said, holding up one finger. "You will submit to regular evaluations. Every six months, you will return to Luria and demonstrate your continued competence and ntal stability. Any signs of corruption, dependency, or loss of judgnt will result in imdiate confiscation."
Marron nodded. "I accept."
"Second. You will maintain detailed records of your activities with these tools. What you cook, where you travel, who you serve, any unusual behavior from the artifacts. These records will be submitted with each evaluation."
"I can do that."
"Third." Edmund’s expression grew more severe. "You are hereby prohibited from seeking, acquiring, or accepting any additional Legendary artifacts without explicit written permission from this Council. You currently carry four tools. That is your limit until we determine whether you can be trusted with more."
Marron’s breath caught. No seeking additional tools. That ant—
That ant she couldn’t pursue the Ferntation Crock. Couldn’t look for the sixth tool even though it was here in Luria, within reach.
The tools in her pack went very quiet.
It’s all right, Marron thought toward them, even though it wasn’t. We have each other. That’s enough.
They pulsed back with sothing complicated—understanding mixed with disappointnt.
"And finally," Edmund said, "you are required to accept a supervisor. Soone approved by this Council who will accompany you, observe your use of these artifacts, and report back regularly on your conduct."
"A supervisor," Marron repeated. "You an a watcher. A spy."
"I an a ntor," Edmund corrected. "Soone experienced with Legendary artifacts who can guide you and ensure you don’t make catastrophic mistakes."
"I already have a ntor," Marron said, glancing at the Champion.
"Champion Verdant has her own responsibilities. She cannot be expected to travel with you full-ti." Edmund consulted his papers. "The Council has selected Aldric Vess for this role."
Stunned silence.
Aldric, who’d been sitting in the witness gallery, looked equally shocked. "Master Erwell, I—I’m not qualified to—"
"You’re more qualified than you think," Edmund interrupted. "You’ve studied artifacts under my tutelage for years. You’ve witnessed Miss Louvel’s work firsthand. And most importantly, you’ve proven yourself capable of revising your beliefs when presented with evidence." He fixed Aldric with a aningful look. "Sothing this Council could benefit from learning."
There was an edge to that comnt. Internal politics, Marron realized. Edmund had been outvoted, and he wasn’t entirely happy about it.
"Aldric Vess," Edmund continued, "do you accept this appointnt?"
Aldric stood slowly, his expression torn between honor and terror. "I... yes. Yes, I accept. But Master Erwell, I should make sothing clear. I don’t believe Miss Louvel needs supervision. I believe she’s already demonstrated responsibility beyond what most wielders ever achieve."
"Your belief is noted," Edmund said dryly. "You will supervise her anyway. Report monthly to this Council on her activities, her ntal state, and the tools’ behavior."
He turned back to Marron. "These conditions are non-negotiable. Violate any of them, and your tools will be confiscated imdiately. Do you understand?"
"Yes," Marron said. Her voice was steady despite the turmoil in her chest.
"And do you accept these terms?"
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