Kael reads the contract twice beneath the dead orchard's gate, then tests the brass key between his claws. His scarred ears angle toward the ruined farmhouse and the wind moving through unpruned branches.

"Half the land. Half the debt. Half the profit." He looks at you as if waiting for the hidden fourth line. "And no clause about where I sleep."

You have already set the second key on the fence post. Kael stares at it longer than the wrecked roof.

"People do not hand over keys before they know what I will do with them."