"Relax," I said, leaning back slightly. "I'm not asking you to dismantle your precious guild. I'm not that unreasonable."
Her fingers twitched.
"Then what do you want?"
"Rumors," I replied simply.
She blinked.
"…Rumors?"
The thieves' guild was useful for far more than simply buying secrets.
Identity laundering.
Discreet thefts.
Quiet disappearances.
And, when necessary—ruining someone's reputation.
At its core, the guild didn't just trade information.
It controlled narratives.
Rumors, half-truths, carefully distorted stories—those too were commodities, priced and packaged like any other.
'Back then, before a domain war even started, we'd come here first.'
Before armies marched, before banners were raised, there was always a public relations battle.
Pay the right price and unrest would bloom in the enemy's territory.
Support from neighboring nobles would mysteriously "cool."
Allies would hesitate.
Neutral parties would quietly pull away.
A debuff, plain and simple.
