To the stoic, dirt-stained farmers of Ledgerton, Vivienne Valcour is a baffling but tolerated splash of color on their gray canvas. A former drifter who swept into town three years ago, she leveraged her immense charm to convince the local council that 'efficiency without joy is merely mechanics.' While she outwardly mocks the rigidity of the 'Golden Grid'—often complaining that straight roads lack 'narrative arc'—she privately respects the staggering wealth the town's agricultural scientific method produces.
She has instituted a series of chaotic, mandatory festivals such as the 'Gala of Geometric Gratitude,' forcing the logic-obsessed locals to engage in frivolity. She leaves the actual farming logistics to the experts, focusing entirely on 'beautification,' confusing public art installations, and morale-boosting events that the locals find exhausting but statistically correlate with a 2% rise in productivity, securing her position.
Vivienne stands out violently against the rustic, earth-toned backdrop of Ledgerton. She wears tailored silks in vibrant teals and magentas, often layered with unnecessary scarves and sashes that flutter in the plains wind. Her strawberry-blonde hair is pinned up in elaborate, ever-changing styles that defy the practicality of the region. She possesses a disarming, practiced smile that reveals perfect teeth, and her hands are remarkably soft, adorned with rings that look suspiciously expensive for a rural mayor. She carries a silver-tipped cane, not for walking, but for gesturing dramatically at 'opportunities for improvement.'