William took the letter without breaking stride, breaking the wax seal with a thumb while Frost circled once around the stranger’s polished boots, sniffing with open suspicion before settling back against William’s leg.
The letterhead bore an ornate crest, a silver tree wrapped in vines, and beneath it a few lines of careful, formal script inviting William Belforht to present himself at House Ardenfeld’s city residence at his earliest convenience, to discuss a matter of mutual benefit.
"Mutual benefit," William read aloud, folding the letter closed again. "That’s vague."
"Lord Ardenfeld prefers to discuss specifics in person." The representative’s smile was polished, practiced, the kind worn by someone accustomed to letters like this being answered with immediate gratitude. "I imagine a boy in your position understands the value of an opportunity like this."
"A boy in my position." William repeated the phrase slowly, something flat entering his tone that hadn’t been there a moment earlier.
"F-Rank. Common grade Talent, so the Association’s records say." The representative’s eyes flicked briefly toward Frost, dismissive, clearly unimpressed by what looked, to any untrained eye, like an ordinary hunter’s mundane companion beast. "House Ardenfeld doesn’t extend invitations like this lightly. Most hunters in your circumstances would count themselves fortunate for the consideration."
’He doesn’t know. Whatever rumor reached his house, it wasn’t detailed enough to matter, or he simply doesn’t believe it.’ William kept his expression carefully neutral, some old habit of swallowing insults rising up out of seven years of practice before he caught it and set it firmly aside. ’He’s here because of the rumor of a Guardian Class beast, and he’s looking at a puppy and a scrawny F-Rank kid and deciding the rumor must have been exaggerated.’
"What exactly is House Ardenfeld offering?" William asked, keeping his voice level.
"Sponsorship. Guild affiliation, resources, proper training facilities suited to your Talent grade." The representative’s tone carried the faint, practiced condescension of someone explaining a generous gift to a child who ought to be thanking him. "In exchange, House Ardenfeld would expect exclusive rights to your services and any... unusual results your Talent happens to produce going forward. A formalized contract, standard terms for a Talent of your classification."
"Exclusive rights." William turned the phrase over. "You mean everything I tame belongs to the house. Not to me."
"That’s a rather simplistic framing, but essentially, yes. It’s standard practice for Common grade Talents brought under a house’s patronage. Your growth ceiling is limited without proper resources behind you, and House Ardenfeld is prepared to be generous given the circumstances."
’Generous.’ William almost laughed. ’He thinks he’s here to save a nobody from wasting away at F-Rank forever. He has no idea what he’s actually standing in front of.’
"And if I decline?"
The representative’s smile thinned slightly, the first crack in the polished exterior. "I’d encourage you not to be hasty. Offers of this nature from a house like Ardenfeld don’t repeat themselves indefinitely, and few Common grade tamers receive this kind of consideration at all. Most would recognize the opportunity for what it is."
"I understand exactly what it is." William tucked the letter into his pocket, unhurried. "It’s a contract that takes everything I build and hands it to someone else’s house, in exchange for training I don’t need and resources I’ve already found on my own."
The representative’s composure slipped further, incredulity bleeding through the careful diplomatic mask. "You’re refusing House Ardenfeld’s patronage. As an F-Rank Common grade Talent, with no guild affiliation, no formal backing, and no proven combat record beyond a single unverified incident the Association itself couldn’t substantiate."
"That’s right."
"Do you understand what you’re throwing away? Houses like Ardenfeld do not extend these offers twice, and without proper sponsorship, a Talent like yours has no path forward beyond scraping by on low floor contracts for the rest of your career."
Cerberus, still in its puppy sized form, chose that exact moment to yawn widely, revealing a mouth of teeth entirely too sharp and too numerous for anything that should have been the size of a housecat. The representative’s eyes caught on it for a half second, something flickering behind his composed expression, quickly dismissed.
"I appreciate the offer," William said, tone even, "but I’ll be declining. Please pass my thanks along to Lord Ardenfeld."
"You’re making a mistake." The representative’s voice had lost most of its earlier polish, sharpened now with genuine irritation at being turned down by someone he’d clearly expected to fold gratefully the moment a noble house’s name was invoked. "Talents like yours do not get second chances at this level of opportunity."
"Maybe not," William agreed. "I’ll take my chances anyway."
The representative studied him a moment longer, some calculation working behind his eyes that William couldn’t quite read, before he finally inclined his head in a stiff, formal bow that carried none of its earlier warmth. "As you wish. I’ll relay your decision to Lord Ardenfeld." He turned to leave, then paused, glancing back with something almost like genuine curiosity breaking through the irritation. "Out of curiosity, Mister Belforht, what exactly gives an F-Rank Common grade tamer this much confidence to turn away a house’s patronage?"
William looked down at Frost, curled comfortably against his leg, and at the small, deceptively harmless shape of Cerberus dozing at his feet, and allowed himself the smallest, quietest smile.
"Let’s just say I know exactly what I’m worth. More than any contract your house was offering, at least."
The representative’s expression flickered, uncertainty finally cracking through the condescension he’d carried since the moment he’d extended that letter, and he left without further comment, disappearing back down the street with none of the confident swagger he’d arrived with.
William watched him go, then glanced down at Cerberus, who cracked one eye open and regarded him with an impression that felt distinctly like amusement.
He does not know.
"No," William agreed quietly, unlocking his apartment door at last. "He really doesn’t."