The morning air was crisp, carrying the scent of fresh bread and damp earth as Violet made her way to the village market. A small wooden cart trailed behind her, filled with carefully arranged jars of fruit preserves. The glass gleamed under the soft sunlight, the deep reds and golden yellows of the contents promising sweetness amidst the hardships of the season.

Her heart pounded.

This was it.

The first step toward saving her family.

She reached the town’s entrance just as Pak Hugo, the ever-watchful gatekeeper, squinted at her cart. He stroked his thick beard, then crossed his arms.

"Selling something today, girl?" His deep voice rumbled like distant thunder.

Violet nodded, gripping the cart’s handle tighter. "Yes, sir. Fruit preserves. Would you like to try some?"

Pak Hugo’s stern face remained unreadable as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a copper coin. He plucked a jar from the cart, twisted it open, and scooped a bit of the preserve onto his finger. He tasted it slowly.

For a moment, there was silence.

Then, to her surprise, he grunted and nodded. "Not bad. Not bad at all." He tossed her the coin. "If I hear this is some trick, I’ll come find you."

"I wouldn’t dream of it."

With that, she was in.

----------------------------------------

The market was alive with its usual chorus of merchants shouting prices, customers haggling, and the distant clang of the blacksmith’s hammer. But there was also a noticeable tension. Fewer people lingered at the stalls, and those who did walked with hesitant steps, carefully counting their coins before making a purchase.

Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

Violet swallowed her nerves and set up her makeshift stall near Tuan Gregory’s popular tavern. The stout merchant stood outside, rubbing his round belly as he surveyed the market. His keen eyes landed on her immediately.

"What’s this? A new seller?" he bellowed, approaching with an amused smirk. "Didn’t take you for the business type, girl."

Violet smiled politely. "Desperate times call for new ideas, Tuan Gregory. Would you like to try some?"

She held up a jar, the sunlight catching the thick, glistening contents inside.

Gregory raised a bushy eyebrow but took the jar. With a dramatic flourish, he popped the lid and scooped out a spoonful, letting the preserve coat his tongue.

The transformation was instant. His expression shifted from skepticism to delight, and then—perhaps most importantly—calculated interest.

"By the gods, girl, this is good!" He smacked his lips. "You made this yourself?"

"With my mother’s help," she admitted.

Gregory let out a hearty laugh, patting his stomach. "This could sell. No—this will sell. How much for a crate of these?"

Violet’s heart leapt. "I can make more by next week. How many do you want?"

"Let’s start with ten crates. If they sell well, I’ll double the order."

Ten crates.

That was huge.

But before she could respond, a familiar voice chimed in.

"Ooooh, let me try too!"

Lisette, the lively waitress from the tavern, practically skipped over. She took a jar, dipped a spoon inside, and gasped dramatically.

"This tastes like something a noble would eat!" she declared, eyes wide. "Wait—this gives me an idea. Tuan Gregory, what if we serve this with fresh bread in the tavern? A little extra charge for something fancy!"

Gregory scratched his chin, his business mind already turning.

"You might be onto something, girl," he muttered. Then, turning to Violet, he grinned. "Alright. Deliver those crates next week. And if you can keep up with demand, we’ll talk about a bigger deal."

Violet could barely believe it. She had done it. Her first big order.

"I won’t disappoint you," she promised.

As Gregory left, Lisette nudged her playfully. "Told you this was noble-tier stuff. You’re gonna be famous, Violet."

Violet laughed, a weight lifting from her chest.

This was just the beginning.

And for the first time in weeks, hope didn’t feel so far away.

To be Continue...