On an early afternoon, I was sitting at a corner table in the Adventurer's Guild, sipping on a mug of watered-down ale. It wasn't something I would call tasty, but it was a good cover to hold in my hand and listen to the discussions around me. As usual, the guildhall bustled around me with the constant exchange between other adventurers, coming and going in swaths, mercenaries from the different cities coming in to turn in an escort mission, boasting about their latest exploits while they were en route. I just needed to sit tight and sharpen my hearing.
With me coming here frequently for weeks now, I was no longer really even looked at or perceived, blending into the crowd perfectly. Whenever I caught something interesting, I followed the discussion, acting as if I was examining the notice board, whatever it took to hear as much as possible. Did I get anything useful out of it? Not really, but there were tidbits that I managed to turn into money later on. Nothing major, though... I wasn't as lucky as with the find in the sewers.
Still, a month ago, I had been an outsider to this city, taking on commissions to kill vermin in the sewers. Now, with the bakery working out well, I didn't really have to. I knew that I would stay bronze-ranked like this, but really, I didn't mind that much. I was now considered a local, and even the clerks in the guildhall were used to me. Some were also customers of mine, knowing me, Lira, and Puck by name.
It had started simply enough. Puck was delivering baked goods, a service Lira had been skeptical about, but she quickly warmed up to my suggestion when the money started coming in. I handled the advertising part of it, borrowing methods of fliers and posters from my old life. I even visited a local printing shop and made them print out a design I created, which I then put into street urchins' hands, paying them to go around the city and slip them into people's homes, nail them to notice boards, the usual.
The second method that I used was creating little business cards. Whenever someone came into the shop, I made sure we slipped one next to their orders. There was no telephone in this world, but just by looking at it, they would remember our little bakery... And it worked like a charm.
The idea of pre-orders had taken root in their mind faster than I had anticipated. At first, it had been just a handful of people—guards, low-ranking adventurers, clerks—people who had to go to work at ungodly hours, the ones who appreciated not having to line up way too early or late for fresh bread and pastries. Then, as word spread, and before long, we had more orders than Lira could handle alone.
It was a good issue to have.
To keep up with the demands, I had quietly recruited a few more street kids to help with deliveries. They knew the city best, and they were cheap. Lucky me, there were no laws about child labor, and I could get away with sometimes paying with food. Win-win, if anyone would ask me, even if I will end up in hell later on... Still. Not only did it lighten Puck's workload, but it also gave us more ears in different parts of the city. I gave them simple instructions while explaining their jobs. It mostly boiled down to just listening to every news they came across. Don't pry, don't ask questions—just pay attention. Who was hiring? Who was complaining? What were they complaining about? New rumors? Even if they were outrageous, memorize them. Who was getting paid in coins instead of barter? Did someone fall ill? Who? New shoes? From where? It didn't matter. At the end of each day, they would report back to me, dumping all the small tidbits they had heard, and I would write them all down, no matter how nonsense they were. They didn't need to worry about that.
Of course, most of it was meaningless drivel—an innkeeper grumbling about a delayed shipment. A merchant whined that he couldn't get his usual stock of imported spices because it was let out in the rain by accident, totally ruining a whole batch of it. Or, news about a low-ranked noble arguing over debts in a public square.
However, there were always some things that stood out. Like when a few adventurers were talking about an unusually high number of requests for missing persons. A guild official had been spotted speaking to a man with ties to the city guard... Maybe there is a connection, one that I marked as a possible interest while organizing the news. Then, there was a traveling alchemist who had been seen asking about 'private security' for her wares. Potions? Or a scam? It could be both because, as far as I knew, traveling alchemists was not really a thing. Anyway, little snippets like these, small details, were what I was aiming for because when I put them together, they painted a picture.
That's why, at the same time, I have embedded myself deeper into the Adventurer's Guild administrative side. I took small jobs inside the guild. They were boring, mundane work that kept me inside the hall rather than out in the field, sometimes even letting me behind previously closed doors and into storage spaces filled with documents.
Things I could peek into and copy while I was organizing mission reports, fetching materials, and even helping some of the overworked clerks file records. They thought I was just helpful... In truth, I was siphoning them of 'confidential' information whenever I could. Yeah, it was menial, but it paid with the best resource: access. I also got to see what types of jobs were being posted, who was issuing them, and who was taking them. I could watch over and monitor what patterns were emerging.
It didn't take me long to overhear other adventurers talking about their past missions, the troubles they faced, and their complaints about missing information. It also gave me some easy missions where I used the urchins, and I began contacting them with my Shade persona.
I had already learned that adventurers valued three things when it came to knowledge: reliability, specificity, and discretion. Price was there somewhere, but... for now, I offered my advice on the cheap side, something they were able to risk and buy because it wouldn't be a loss for them. Until I spread my name... I wouldn't start raising prices.
Especially because a rumor was worthless unless it came from someone with a track record of being right. Generic warnings, like 'bandits are active on this road,' were ignored, so I quickly stopped dealing with the doses. Instead, I turned them into specific details by having access to Guild records. Like a group of six bandits setting up ambushes near the fork past Redridge, that kind of news was invaluable.
After gaining a little bit more experience in being able to sell what I gathered, I started testing the waters more firmly. I dropped hints at adventurers I had gotten to know in the form of letters, sending them to those who decided to risk it and buy news from me. I was simply making casual observations that seemed harmless but turned out to be helpful. It wasn't hard as I was helping organize the tasks they had signed up for, but in their perspective, Shade was like a mind-reader.
There was one such case where a bronze-level swordsman had been debating whether to take an escort mission or not... He hesitated, thinking the pay was too low. Which it was because the original contract had an addendum to the Guild that the client was willing to go for a higher bid, but only if they found nobody for the original submission. In the end, after my tip, the swordsman took the job, haggled, and secured better pay. A week later, he approached one of my kids and thanked Shade, taking my next suggestion at face value and even tipping us generously.
That was the first actual crack in the dam. More followed soon after.
Someone asked if a particular merchant could be trusted as he was offered work outside of Guild oversee. That was... a bit trickier, but shifting through our notes, I found that Puck mentioned that the same merchant had recently lost a shipment and was struggling financially. The one who came for us for information was a rogue-type guy, probably wanting to earn more by skipping the Guild's fee, but it also meant he could be swindled. Without me, or in this case, Puck's information, he may very well have been. He probably would have even ended up dead or just worked for free... So, instead, I pointed him toward a frustrated minor noble who had been overheard complaining about theft on his estate—little things going missing. Something that another thief-like guy could help find... or use to his advantage to exploit the noble's frustration. It was totally dependent on him; I didn't care.
It was like this for a while... Doing easy things. But each time, people walked away with the impression that Shade knew things they didn't—and that he was worth listening to. That he was trustworthy.
By the third week, adventurers were starting to come to my agents directly. Not in an obvious way, not yet. But in small, casual conversations, coming to certain boys and girls, whom I began paying to be simply letter couriers, to stand around at specified places in the city, at specified times, signaling that I was open for business, delivering requests and my answers in turn.
Usually, they were pretty basic ones, like:
"Heard anything interesting lately? Know anyone looking for extra hands?"
I was careful with my answers and never gave away anything freely. If someone wanted information, they had to bring something of value in return—whether it was a different rumor, a detail about a job, or even just the promise to owe Shade a favor. I wasn't only going for coin.
The returning guests? Those who began trusting me more than some clerks in the guild? They started coming to the bakery. It was thriving now, but she also saw how I was spending his time: working, working, and working. I was falling into my old habits, and I knew I was.
One evening, as we closed up shop, she leaned against the counter and folded her arms, gazing at me. The scent of freshly baked bread still lingered in the air, mingling with the faint aroma of flour and sugar, making me hungry, but before I could ask for something, she shot me a stern glare.
"You're turning into a thrall. You need to relax sometimes. You barely sleep or eat. Stop it, or you will fall ill or collapse!" she said, her voice wary.
"It isn't that bad," I shrugged, remembering how overtime felt back home. This... felt different. It was exciting. "I know how exhaustion feels. I haven't hit it yet."
"You're going to soon enough. You need rest because if not... Then what? Buy potions to skip sleep? Like..."
"Haaah..." I sighed, putting everything down, feeling my cheeks warming up. In both of my lives, this was the first time someone said the one thing I wanted to hear. To have someone who would tell me to relax a little... To notice it. And it surprised me—it genuinely did. "You are right." I nodded, giving her a small smile. What if I skip reading today's haul and go sleep when you do?"
Lira rolled her eyes, but she didn't argue further. Instead, she just put warm bread before me with a taste of meat paste spread over it with some eggs and onions.
"It is a start." She mumbled, "I know what it can do to people... I am not going to let you repeat a mistake like that."
"Yes, Ma'am." I chuckled, making her blush too, and instead of work... I enjoyed a calm dinner and night with her.