The advertisements do not look like advertisements.

  They come as conversations held just a little too close, as parchment folded once and slipped into a hand, as men and women in fine coats lingering at the edges of training yards where only supplicants are meant to be. No banners. No shouted promises.

  Just opportunity, offered softly.

  Eric notices them first because he is watching for patterns now.

  The wealthy supplicants, those who rejoined the column clean and rested, are never approached in the open. They are invited aside during meals, or intercepted after assessments, or summoned quietly by clerks who already know their names.

  Private tutors. Specialized training. Early placement.

  Paid for, of course.

  Marrius Jr. thrives.

  He has always thrived in rooms where attention gathers like heat. Now he wears it openly. His sword drills are corrected with patience instead of barked orders. His mistakes are framed as promise. Marvin follows half a step behind, louder, less refined, but buoyed by the same invisible hand.

  Eric watches Marrius laugh with an instructor after a sparring session that should have earned reprimand. Watches a clerk jot something down with an approving nod. Watches the way doors open for him that others do not even see.

  Potential, Eric thinks, aligning neatly with coin.

  The realization settles cold and sharp.

  He is stretching after drills when the man approaches him, well-dressed, neatly bearded, a merchant’s ring heavy on one finger. He smiles as though they are already acquainted.

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  “Eric of Edgebrook,” the man says easily. “I am Factor Halwen. Merchants’ Guild.”

  Eric inclines his head. “Sir.”

  Halwen gestures toward the colonnade. “Walk with me.”

  They move away from the yard. Eric feels eyes follow him.

  “You’ve been noticed,” Halwen says. “Strength. Observation. Reliability. Traits we value.”

  “I’m here to serve the king,” Eric replies carefully.

  Halwen chuckles. “A fine sentiment. But service takes many forms.”

  He stops beneath an arch where the noise of training dulls. “We offer sponsorship. Paid tutors. Advanced instruction. Equipment. Connections.” His eyes sharpen. “In exchange for twenty years’ service to the Guild. Placement guaranteed. Advancement assured.”

  Eric absorbs the words slowly. Twenty years. A lifetime, nearly.

  “And if I refuse?” Eric asks.

  Halwen’s smile thins. “Then you continue as you are. Which would be… unfortunate.”

  Eric looks back toward the yard, where supplicants march in rows. “I don’t want my path bought for me.”

  Silence stretches.

  Halwen’s expression hardens. “You think this is buying? This is recognition. You insult us by pretending otherwise.”

  “I won’t sell myself,” Eric says quietly.

  The merchant steps closer. “Careful, boy. Pride is expensive.”

  Eric meets his gaze. “So is ownership.”

  For a moment, Eric thinks Halwen might strike him.

  Instead, the man laughs, sharp and humorless. “You will regret this.”

  “Maybe,” Eric says. “But it’ll be my choice.”

  Halwen turns away, robes snapping, anger radiating off him like heat. By the time Eric returns to the yard, word has already begun to spread.

  Cathryn finds him that evening, eyes bright with excitement and unease.

  “They offered me something,” she says in a rush. “Training. Placement with a noble household. It’s… ”

  Eric interrupts gently. “Who offered?”

  She hesitates. “A factor. He said I’d be wasted otherwise.”

  Eric’s stomach tightens. “Did he look at you like a person… or like property?”

  Cathryn frowns. “Eric…”

  “Did he?” he presses.

  Her excitement dims. She looks away. “He said I’d be… useful.”

  Eric nods slowly. “Be careful. Some paths don’t just lead somewhere. They close behind you.”

  She studies him, then nods once. “I’ll think about it.”

  Around them, other offers are made. Some accept eagerly. Some refuse quietly. Most are never asked.

  The capital hums with opportunity, for the few.

  Eric lies awake that night, staring at the ceiling, understanding at last.

  This is not a test of worth.

  It is a market.

  And he has just priced himself out.