The Copper Kettle was quieter in the late morning than it had been the evening William last visited, most of its usual hunter clientele still out on early Tower runs. Reyes sat in the same corner table, cane resting against the wall behind him, a cup of something dark and steaming in front of him instead of ale this time.
"You look like a man who’s got something to report," Reyes said, by way of greeting, as William dropped into the seat across from him, Frost slipping immediately beneath the table.
"House Ardenfeld sent someone to my apartment yesterday."
Reyes’s cup paused halfway to his mouth. "That was faster than even I expected." He set it down without drinking. "Tell me everything. Don’t leave out the parts that seem unimportant."
William walked him through it, the letter, the representative’s polished condescension, the offer of sponsorship in exchange for exclusive rights over anything his Talent produced going forward, and finally his own refusal, delivered plainly without embellishment. Reyes listened without interrupting, his expression settling into something increasingly thoughtful as the account went on.
"You turned him down outright," Reyes said once William finished. "No counteroffer, no request for time to think it over."
"Should I have?"
"No. You did exactly right." Reyes leaned back, wincing slightly as the movement pulled at his healing ribs. "But I want you to understand what you actually did yesterday, because I don’t think you fully do yet."
William waited, and Reyes continued, voice dropping lower, more serious than the easy warmth he’d carried through most of their previous conversations.
"Noble houses like Ardenfeld don’t send representatives to F-Rank hunters on a whim. Sending someone at all means they already believe there’s something worth the effort, regardless of what your Association file says. The fact that he came expecting you to be grateful, expecting an easy yes, tells me the house doesn’t actually know what you have. They heard enough of the rumor to be curious, not enough to understand what they were curious about."
"That’s what I figured too," William admitted. "He looked right at Cerberus and Frost and saw nothing worth taking seriously."
"Which means the rumor reaching Ardenfeld’s ears was garbled, secondhand, probably filtered through two or three retellings before it got anywhere near a noble house’s attention." Reyes tapped a finger against the table, thinking it through aloud. "That’s good for you, for now. But it also means you can’t count on that ignorance lasting. Houses like Ardenfeld have people whose entire job is confirming rumors before deciding how hard to pursue them. If he walked away uncertain instead of convinced, don’t assume that’s the end of it."
"You think he’ll come back."
"I think he’ll dig first. Quietly. Someone will start asking around the fourth district, talking to people who’ve seen you on Tower runs, maybe even reaching out to the Association again under a different pretext." Reyes’s eyes met William’s directly. "And if that digging turns up anything that confirms what he half suspected yesterday, the next visit won’t be a polite letter and a junior representative."
William’s stomach tightened slightly at that. "What would it be instead?"
"Depends on the house. Some would come back with a better offer, real resources, less exploitative terms, if they decide you’re worth courting properly instead of steamrolling. Others." Reyes paused, choosing his next words with obvious care. "Others decide an uncontracted Talent with something valuable is a liability sitting outside their control, and start looking for ways to either force the issue or remove the problem before someone else claims it first."
"That’s a pleasant thought."
"It’s the truth, and you needed to hear it plainly rather than comfortably." Reyes softened slightly, some of the mentor’s patience returning to his tone. "I’m not saying Ardenfeld specifically will go that route. Most houses aren’t that reckless, there’s reputational cost to strong-arming hunters publicly, and it tends to invite scrutiny from the Association they’d rather avoid. But you should assume from here forward that every quiet week you get is borrowed time, not settled peace."
William sat with that for a long moment, turning it over against everything he’d already been building toward on his own. "Then I keep doing what I’ve been doing. Grow quietly, stay ahead of whatever comes next, and make sure that by the time anyone comes back with a harder offer, I’m not someone they can push around anymore."
"That’s the right instinct." Reyes finally took a drink from his cup, something like approval settling into his expression. "Just don’t mistake quiet growth for safety. The moment you’re strong enough that houses like Ardenfeld can’t ignore you, you also become someone worth watching a lot more closely than an F-Rank tamer with a rumor attached to his name."
Beneath the table, Frost shifted against William’s boot, and Cerberus, curled in its small form on the bench beside him, cracked one eye open as though following the conversation despite its outward drowsiness. William reached down absently to scratch behind the guardian’s ear, mind already turning over Reyes’s warning alongside the quiet, steady rhythm of training and growth he’d built for himself over the past weeks.
’Borrowed time.’ He watched Reyes finish his drink, cane still propped against the wall as a reminder of exactly how costly the last time things had gone wrong had been. ’Then I make the most of every day it lasts.’