The next morning, Marron woke early and went to find Jenny's grill.
The storage shed was exactly where Jenny said it would be—a small building behind the inn, packed with equipment and supplies. The portable grill sat near the back: cast iron, well-seasoned, with a hinged grate and legs that folded for transport.
Marron ran her hand over the metal and felt something settle in her chest. This wasn't a Legendary Tool. Wasn't magical or powerful or capable of feeding hundreds from nothing.
It was just a grill. Honest. Simple. Built to do one job well.
Perfect.
She hauled it out to the street and set up in the same spot where she'd first parked her Food Cart months ago—a wide section of cobblestone near the market district where foot traffic was heavy and the smell of cooking would draw attention.
