Chapter 19: Detect Evil

"Sigh... why can't I just keep these hands under control?"

Ambrose rubbed the gold coins between his fingers. His sigh seemed to come from the depths of his very soul.

That adventuring party heading into the sewers had generously paid him a one-coin "interview fee." Even if they didn't mesh well, Ambrose would still have earned a gold coin for nothing.

Of course, it wasn't strange for adventurers to offer something when trying to recruit a magician. Such talent was rare and expensive. But a whole gold coin just for showing up? That was absurdly extravagant, almost like tipping that dwarven singer just to make him shut up.

Whatever hesitation Ambrose had before instantly evaporated the moment the coin landed in his hand.

Still, once he pocketed the money, unease started gnawing at him.

Adventurers weren't exactly known for their moral integrity. Most of them hovered somewhere between "unemployed drifter" and "licensed bandit." If they could afford to hand out gold like this, it usually meant one of two things: either the job was really dangerous... or someone was planning a good old-fashioned backstab.

After all, magicians were almost always rich. Mugging one could easily net a few enchanted trinkets worth thousands of gold coins.

Then again, if that was their plan, great!

Ambrose grinned. Bandits robbing a lich? Good luck with that.

Alkhemia could hardly say anything about a little self-defense here and there. He could even clean up the whole party and turn a tidy profit.

He might be a washed-up legendary magician, but even a washed-up legend was still a legend. And with his lich identity hidden? Well, bullying a bunch of adventurers would be child's play.

The real problem was if the job itself turned out to be a nightmare. If they were paying this much without intending to betray him, it probably meant they were desperate—and that was never a good sign.

In that case, the hassle might not be worth the fee.

Still, worst case, he could just walk away. A free gold coin was nothing to complain about.

Ambrose sat quietly in the corner of the tavern, waiting for the team to show up.

The orc barkeep had said they were traveling from outside the city, so they probably wouldn't arrive until around dawn.

In the meantime, Ambrose carefully planned several "mutual-robbery" contingencies... and a few price-negotiation scripts, just in case.

But when the adventuring party finally walked through the door, all those schemes went right out the window.

There were three people: a knight clad in full plate, helmet and all; a warpriest wearing chainmail and carrying a hammer the size of his own head; and a young man in a magician's robe, noticeably poorer than his armored companions.

"Paladins and a warpriest from the Lyon Empire?" Ambrose muttered.

There was no mistaking them. Each of them wore the Lyon Empire's crest of rose and dragon, the emblem reserved for the Royal Order of Paladins itself.

The two in the lead were probably viscounts at least, and each with their own fiefdoms at that.

No wonder they were throwing gold around. Compared to regular adventurers, these guys were basically upper-class elites.

Still, what were Lyon Empire paladins doing in Alkhemia? The two nations could barely stand each other. Alkhemia prided itself on equally discriminating against everyone who couldn't perform alchemy or magic, while the Lyon Empire equally discriminated against everyone who wasn't human. Like villains quarreling over who was worse, they'd been sneering at each other for decades.

The paladins considered Alkhemia a den of heresy. The alchemists thought the Empire's endless "Holy light! Evil! Glory! Charge!" speeches were basically barbarian war chants with slightly better vocabulary.

They weren't open enemies, but they had never been on friendly terms, either.

So when two fully armed Lyon Empire paladins walked into a city tavern, everyone noticed. The place went dead silent. A few of the regulars were lizardfolk and drow. No one wanted to be around if one of the paladins suddenly stepped forward shouting, "Let holy light shine upon the wicked! Have at thee!"

Thankfully, the shabby young magician with them stepped forward, laughing nervously to dispel the sudden tension.

"Haha, we're back again! This place is just as lively as ever! Why don't you take a seat? I'll grab us some top-shelf ale."

Ambrose blinked. He recognized that voice. It was Harvey, the apprentice magician who'd once wandered around with that porcupine knight near his domain.

Hearing Harvey's words, the room relaxed a little. If they'd been here before and no bloodbath had occurred, maybe it'd be fine this time too.

Even so, several patrons quietly finished their drinks and slipped out. Sharing a roof with paladins was a stressful experience, especially for those with, uh, moral flexibility.

The two paladins didn't seem to mind the wary looks. They simply took a seat against the far wall.

They were smart, disciplined, and fully armored, even while drinking—a textbook example of imperial training.

Harvey scurried around trying to appease them. He was soon drenched in sweat.

The porcupine knight had clearly gone to great lengths to curry favor with these high-ranking guests. No one knew what exactly brought the Lyon Empire to Alkhemia, but at least Harvey had managed to recommend himself as their local guide.

Apparently, the two had suddenly decided to "explore" the city's sewers.

Harvey had nearly died from all the paperwork: permits to enter, adventure clearances, team formation approvals, the works.

Finding teammates for paladins wasn't easy. Sure, they were strong and honorable, but also rigid, judgmental, and openly racist—not exactly party-friendly traits.

And in a city where humans were the minority and magicians even rarer, finding someone who fit their "holy and pure" standards was basically impossible.

The last few candidates had all ended in disaster.

Thus, the interview fee had risen higher and higher, until it hit one gold coin. When Harvey had finally received word of Ambrose's interest earlier today, the paladins had rushed over without delay.

The orc barkeep eagerly introduced them.

"Nice to meet you. I'm William Harvey, apprentice magician," the young man said, studying Ambrose curiously.

He was surprised to find that the black-haired youth before him looked nothing like any human he knew. His eyes, complexion, and delicate features carried an almost elven beauty.

That said, a pretty face didn't mean much in magic. Casting spells required brains, not charm.

"Pleasure to meet you," Ambrose said smoothly. "I'm Megaman Tiga."

Harvey blinked. "Ahem. The pleasure is mine, Master Megaman. You probably already know what we're looking for, a magician specialized in frost magic—"

Before he could finish, Ambrose lifted his palm. A ball of glittering frost formed above it.

Harvey recognized the spellwork immediately: Ray of Frost, a basic cantrip.

It was nothing too impressive, at first... until the icy light split into two perfectly stable rays.

"Dual casting?" Harvey whispered. "No. It's a matter of pure control."

The difference was night and day. Any real magician could tell that this wasn't showmanship. It was proof of mastery.

Harvey gave a low whistle. He had addressed this "Megaman Tiga" as Master only out of courtesy, but it was suddenly sounding very appropriate.

He turned toward the paladin, giving an affirmative nod. "This is our fifth candidate," Harvey said carefully. "And probably our last. So please, don't repeat what happened last time."

They had had a falling out with their last candidate. Harvey pleaded with the two paladins not to have the same thing happen again—otherwise, they might really be out of options.

The paladin didn't respond to the warning. Through the slit of his helmet came a voice cold and devoid of emotion. "Master Megaman," he said, "my faith forbids me from working alongside the wicked. I would like to cast Detect Evil upon you. Would you consent?"

Ambrose: "..."