This Lich is a Better Landlord Chapter 21

Ambrose counted the gold coins and even produced a sheet of parchment to write down the terms of the contract, which he then nailed to the tavern's notice board for all to witness.

Only after all this ceremony did Ambrose turn to the paladin. "Go on, then. Cast your Detect Evil."

The paladin reminded him, "If you use magic to resist the detection, rendering it ineffective, that will also count as a breach of contract."

"If you're so worried," Ambrose retorted, "you can seal my magic first."

The paladin shook his head. That wasn't necessary; he would know if the spell was being interfered with. Ambrose's unwavering confidence was so potent that the paladin was almost starting to believe he had a clear conscience.

The light of the spell flared to life, falling upon Ambrose.

The Detect Evil spell used light to indicate its findings. A purely good person would be cloaked in flawless white light, while those with evil in their hearts would show black or dark red patches. The more evil the person, the more intense these corrupted lights would become.

Generally speaking, the wicked thoughts of an ordinary person might cause a few finger-sized black spots to appear—the level of someone who covets money or beauty but has yet to act on it.

A cultist who worshipped an evil god, on the other hand, would have most of their aura dimmed, a clear sign of severe corruption and evidence of many evil deeds.

But when the Detect Evil spell landed on Ambrose, a darkness so thick it seemed to swallow the light billowed out, completely enveloping him.

Harvey: ???

The Paladin: !!!

The tavern patrons: Huh?

...

Everyone thought they were under an illusion. What level of darkness was this? Even cultists weren't this outrageous. Was this man an evil god in the flesh?

The paladin was the first to recover, roaring, "You're an undead creature!"

Aside from an evil god, the only thing that could produce such an effect from a Detect Evil spell was an undead creature.

It wasn't a question of whether the individual had committed evil acts. The entire race of the undead stood in opposition to all living things. From the perspective of the living, the undead were inherently evil—a fundamental conflict of existence.

Thus, all undead registered as pure, undiluted black. No exceptions.

Ambrose waved his hand dismissively, scattering the thick darkness. "I'll be taking those five thousand gold coins, then."

The paladin's fury almost became a physical force. His longsword slid from its sheath, holy light gathering at its edge.

It was the paladin's most famous technique—Divine Smite.

One strike could reduce an ordinary undead to dust, leaving not even ashes behind.

"Filthy undead," the paladin seethed. "What right do you have to take this money?"

Ambrose pointed a finger toward the contract on the notice board.

"The contract states that I am taking a risk by submitting to Detect Evil, and this money is moral compensation. It doesn't say I have to be pure and flawless to receive it, does it? Look, my undead identity has been exposed for all to see. For something so damaging to my self-esteem, shouldn't I receive a little compensation?"

As soon as Ambrose finished, the patrons reacted, shouting over one another.

"Yeah, that's right! I hate the undead more than anything! Filthy, shameless creatures!"

"Damn straight! Nothing I despise more than the undead. What's the point of a bag of bones, anyway?"

"Down with the undead! Long live the light!"

"Ugh, I've been drinking in the same tavern as an undead. I think I'm going to be sick."

...

The acting was so over-the-top it made the paladin's hand, gripping his sword, tremble. He looked to be on the verge of exploding.

Ambrose shrugged and spread his hands.

"See? Hasn't my reputation been damaged? This money is my compensation."

"Despicable! Shameless!"

The paladin could only repeat these two words. A good upbringing could sometimes be a problem; his vocabulary for insults was pitifully small and had no effect on Ambrose whatsoever.

Just as he was about to unleash his Divine Smite, Harvey quickly stepped in. "Sir, in the City of Alchemy, being undead is not a crime. But if you try to purify an undead here, you will be breaking the city's laws."

Harvey shot the paladin a meaningful look, drawing his attention to the subtle movements of the other patrons.

At the nearest table, two Lizardfolk warriors had already gripped the long handles of their axes. Farther away, a Drow was loading his hand crossbow. Even the dwarf singer, who had been wailing mournfully, set down his lute and drew a short sword. More absurdly, the orc bartender had produced a pile of empty bottles, placing them where they could be easily grabbed.

Everywhere he looked, the room was filled with enemies.

When you discriminate equally against all non-human races, you must also endure the hostility of all races. Faced with a paladin from the Ryan Empire, they would rather stand with an undead.

Paladins weren't particularly popular in the City of Alchemy, and this one had walked right into Ambrose's trap. If he made a move now, the entire tavern would likely jump at the chance to loot him.

As strong as a paladin was, he couldn't handle an assault from dozens of adventurers in the tight confines of a tavern. He could only watch as Ambrose collected the gold, before reluctantly sheathing his longsword.

"It seems my decision to venture out for experience was the right one. In Ryan, I might never have learned this lesson. Thank you, Master Tiga Ultraman. The next time we meet, I will honorably purify your soul with my blade."

With those parting words, the paladin and his companions left the tavern.

He knew when to hold 'em and when to fold 'em, and he cooled down quickly. This paladin was quite a character.

The tavern patrons cheered as if they had won a great victory, sending the three off with whistles and boos. Just as he was about to exit, Harvey turned and gave Ambrose a long, deep look.

He had a faint premonition that this undead, disguised as a human, was very likely the master of that old castle. There was no evidence, just the pure intuition of a mage from the School of Divination.

If he was right, today wasn't a total loss. At the very least, the chances of the paladin agreeing to help him deal with a lich had just gone up considerably. Perhaps they would meet again very soon.

Ambrose looked back at the mage Harvey with curiosity. Though he called himself a magic apprentice, Ambrose's gut told him this young man was not simple—he was even more noteworthy than the paladin. His feeling was also baseless, stemming from his own intuition as a former mage of the School of Divination.

Before his transformation into a lich, he had ascended to the Legendary rank as a Divination mage. It was just a pity that the legendary boon he received had nothing to do with the School of Divination.

The three paladins were gone, but the commotion in the tavern didn't stop. A Drow heckled, "You made a paladin spend five thousand gold on you with just a few words. You're probably going to end up on the Ryan Empire's most-wanted list."

A Lizardfolk next to him chimed in, "Yeah, you're not gonna live long anyway. Why not spend the money? How about buying everyone a round?"

"Five thousand gold coins! That's enough to buy the whole tavern drinks for a month!"

"That's right! I'll have ten to start!"

The jeers rose and fell, but Ambrose didn't hesitate for a second. "Don't even think about it!" he said sharply. "You! You said drinking with an undead made you sick! You! You called me filthy and shameless! And you! You said not even a dog would eat a bag of bones! And I'm supposed to buy you drinks? You'd have better luck praying for the God of Wealth to make it rain gold!"

"What? I didn't! Don't you slander me!" the Drow who had said "what's the point of a bag of bones" retorted heatedly. Drow were supposed to be the tricksters, not the ones being framed and slandered! This was outrageous.

The other patrons were furious too. Weren't they just playing along with his act? How could he turn on them so quickly?

"You damned, stingy undead! You scammed us too!"

"Was this part of your calculation? You're utterly shameless!"

"Save your gold to buy a coffin!"

"The undead truly have no heart!"

"We should have let him taste that Divine Smite!"

"F*** you!"

"F*****g a*****e!"

...

The curses grew increasingly foul, but Ambrose paid them no mind. What a joke. Did this bunch of background actors really think a Legendary being couldn't handle that paladin?

A bunch of kids, trying to outsmart a monster hundreds of years old. They were seriously overestimating themselves.