The barrel showed up earlier than anyone expected.
Marron had barely finished her morning tea when the snakekin vendor from yesterday came rolling it up the lane himself."Chef Marron! The honored customer!" he called, loud enough for every shopkeeper on the street to look up.
Marron smiled in that polite, tight way people do when they know they're being watched. "Ah, you didn't have to—"
"I wanted to! People will say, 'That's the barrel seller the feast chef trusted!' Imagine what it will do for business!"
She was already imagining it. Unfortunately, so were half a dozen strangers leaning against nearby stalls. Some were smiling. Some just... watching.
Mokko appeared behind her like a mountain had learned to walk. He crossed his arms, glasses glinting in the morning light, and the crowd's interest slid a few degrees cooler. Marron signed for the delivery, thanked the vendor, and they rolled the barrel inside without further incident.
They'd barely wedged it into the kitchen corner when there was a knock at the door. This time it was Fela, a fishmonger Marron liked because she always smelled faintly of lemon and never shorted the weight on her scales.
"I heard you're fixing up Meadowbrook," Fela said, holding out a basket of fresh catch. "Trade for bread?"
"Deal," Marron said, already slicing into a loaf from last night.
As they traded, Fela mentioned that some people swore Meadowbrook was cursed — "bad water, or ghosts, or both" — while others thought it was ripe for squatting in. "Depends who you talk to," she said with a shrug. "If you're fixing it up, just keep an eye out."
Marron laughed politely, but Mokko's ear twitched in that way that meant he was logging this for later.
After lunch, Marron pulled out the old envelope from yesterday's list-making and flattened it on the table."Alright, two lists today," she said. "One for Meadowbrook supplies, and one for... I guess we can call it the people-who-are-a-little-too-interested list."
Lucy perked up immediately. "Ooo, like a spy mission?"
"More like—" Marron paused, realizing Lucy was already doodling question marks and tiny hats on the 'suspect' column. "...sure. Spy mission."
By the time they were done, List One had: extra nails, more rope, tarp for covering supplies, bench planks, paint (Lucy underlined it twice).
List Two had: market whisperers, "donation" guy from earlier, barrel-delivery crowd-watchers. Mokko tapped the paper once, a silent we'll keep this in mind.
Later in the afternoon, Marron sat at the balcony table with her copper mixing bowl full of envelopes instead of batter. She'd started writing to Queen Selyra and Lord Jackal Alexander, asking if they had any advice on building a community space without attracting every bandit in a fifty-mile radius. Both of them had bustling, defended cities — they would know.
Halfway through the second letter, she stopped, frowned, and set her pen down.
"They're rulers," she muttered. "They're busy. I shouldn't bother them about... paint schedules and well maintenance."
Lucy, sitting on the railing like a content little jelly, hummed innocently. "Mmhm."
Marron set the half-finished letters aside and went to check the bread.
By evening, a knock came at the door — another stranger, all smiles, saying they were "interested in donating" to the Meadowbrook project. Their questions were oddly specific. When exactly would she be out there? Who was helping? What kind of goods would be stored on-site?
Mokko stepped in smoothly, answering in vague, polite tones until the stranger eventually left.
Marron shut the door and blew out a breath. "Okay, so the spy list was a good idea."
That night, she went to oil the cart wheels under the steady glow of the enchanted lantern. Her mind kept circling back to the market whispers, the stranger's questions, and Fela's warning.
When she came back upstairs, the mixing bowl on the balcony table was empty.
"Lucy," she said slowly, "what happened to the letters I was writing earlier?"
Lucy tilted her body just enough to look innocent. "Put them in the post box."
"You... what?"
"They'll have great advice," Lucy said cheerfully. "And I told the post spirit to hurry."
Marron pressed her hands to her face. Somewhere, miles away, the Snake Queen and the Jackal Lord were about to get an urgent update on paint colors and rope purchases.