Violet had never run so fast in her life.
The marketplace was still setting up as she rushed through the early morning streets, clutching the gold coin Lillian had given her.
"Jars—where can I find jars?" she muttered, scanning the vendors.
Tuan Gregory’s stall was already open, the smell of fresh bread wafting through the air.
"Ah, Violet! You look like you're about to fight a war." Gregory chuckled, rubbing his round belly.
"I need glass jars. A lot of them. Do you have any?"
Gregory whistled. "You’re in luck. A shipment came in yesterday."
Violet nearly collapsed in relief.
"I’ll take all you have." She handed him the gold coin.
Gregory raised an eyebrow. "All? That’s a big order, girl."
"I don’t have a choice."
With a knowing smirk, Gregory snapped his fingers. "Lisette! Get the crates for Violet!"
From behind the stall, Lisette poked her head out, eyes still red from last night’s accident.
"Violet! I—I’m really sorry about—"
"No time for that now," Violet interrupted. "Help me carry these back."
Lisette nodded, quickly loading the crates onto a cart.
As Violet gripped the handles, she took a deep breath.
This was it.
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The kitchen was already in chaos when she returned.
Her mother was stirring a pot with the focus of a battle-hardened general, while Annie and Rupert were stacking filled jars onto wooden shelves.
"Where have you been?" her mother asked, barely looking up.
"Getting these," Violet said, motioning to the new jars.
Her mother’s stern face softened for a moment before she simply nodded.
"Then stop standing there and get to work."
The day passed in a blur of motion.
Boil. Stir. Pour. Seal.
Over and over again.
The air was thick with heat and exhaustion, but no one slowed down.
Not when they were this close.
Even Lisette, after breaking the jars last night, had insisted on helping.
"I need to make up for it," she had said, tying her hair back as she sealed another jar.
By sunset, the last jar was finally filled.
Violet stared at the rows of golden preserves, her body aching but her heart soaring.
"We did it," she whispered.
Her mother exhaled deeply. "We did."
Annie and Rupert cheered.
Lisette, wiping her forehead, grinned. "I am never touching another jar in my life."
Violet let out a weak laugh. "You say that now."
But they weren’t done yet.
Now, they had to deliver them.
The next morning, Violet stood in front of Albert Faulkner’s office, her stomach twisted in knots.
This was it.
The moment of truth.
Taking a deep breath, she knocked.
The door creaked open, revealing the head of the Merchant Guild himself, dressed in his usual fine suit.
"Ah. The girl with the preserves."
Violet swallowed hard. "The order is ready."
Albert’s sharp eyes studied her for a moment before he gestured for her to follow.
Inside, the room was lined with expensive books and maps.
A large table stood in the center, and on it—an empty space where her jars would go.
Violet carefully placed each jar down.
Albert picked one up, inspecting the golden contents.
Then, without a word, he opened it and dipped a spoon inside.
The room was silent as he tasted it.
Seconds stretched unbearably long.
Then—
"Not bad."
Violet nearly collapsed.
That was it? After all that work—just "Not bad"?
Albert, seeming to notice her frustration, chuckled. "Relax, girl. It’s a compliment."
Violet exhaled.
"Does this mean...?"
Albert nodded. "You’ve proven yourself. You can join the Merchant Guild."
The words felt unreal.
She had done it.
She had actually done it.
That night, as she sat outside her cottage, staring at the stars, Lillian plopped down beside her.
"So?" the noble girl asked. "Did I invest wisely?"
Violet smirked. "I’ll get your free samples ready."
Lillian laughed, nudging her shoulder.
Violet closed her eyes, breathing in the cool night air.
This was only the beginning.
But for now—
For now, she would rest.
Continue...
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