Chapter 22: You're Trying to Scam a Lich?
Ambrose didn't buy drinks for the crowd, but he did toss a few gold coins to the dwarf bard.
That was a massive tip by any tavern's standard, instantly making Ambrose the bard's top patron in years.
The little fellow's face lit up with joy. Bowing low, he called out, "Generous lord of undeath, allow me to sing a mournful elegy in your honor!"
Ambrose replied, perfectly deadpan, "No need. That tip was to make you stop singing."
For a moment, there was silence. Then, the tavern burst into laughter and cheers.
The dwarf glared at him furiously. It was a blatant insult, the kind that deserved a coin-flinging, ale-splashing, curse-screaming response. But… the tip had been too generous.
Ambrose leaned back, thoroughly pleased. Money meant nothing if he didn't spend it, and spending someone else's money was true luxury.
Of course, he hadn't forgotten what he was here for. He fished out another coin and flicked it toward the orcish barkeep.
"I need a top-tier guide for the sewers, and make it fast."