Dark Lord and I Committed Tax Evasion. Now We Mug Gnomes to Survive.

The keep of the real necromancer of that world was like a maze.

Nobody really knew why that was. Some people believed that the person was simply suspicious of everyone.

 Paranoid, some might even say.

 But that wasn't really the case, no. After all, if the necromancer was paranoid, he would have actually put some guards there to guard the palace.

He had not.

 Not only weren't there any guards to stop Peter and Asmodeos from going around and taking what they wanted, but there were also signs.

 Signs such as:

 Beware of dog.

 Beware of cat.

 Beware of painting.

Now, Peter was new to this world, and he honestly couldn't understand why someone should protect themselves from a painting or why someone should fear a painting at all, but he knew one thing:

 This was the keep of a necromancer, and as any keep of a necromancer, it was dangerous.

Asmodeos knew more about the keep than Peter. He also knew why he could take everything and not really face any resistance.

For Asmodeos knew Nestor's secret!

 The necromancer had been a very fierce man once. So fierce that he had committed tax fraud.

 The very same thing Asmodeos wanted to commit more of. Now, some might say that Asmodeos should learn from his betters.

After all, if Nestor had ended up as a prisoner in his own palace, then Asmodeos didn't have any chance to have his tax fraud ignored.

But that didn't mean that Asmodeos wanted to learn from Nestor. No, Asmodeos was young and he, just like many other young people, knew for a fact that he was better than most. He was not, of course.

 But Asmodeos still believed that. He did not expect much resistance, as he neared the exit with bottomless bags full to the brim with loot.

 If it was even possible to fill a bottomless bag to the brim because, as the name suggests, the bottomless bags were bottomless and could be filled with pretty much anything, including the palace they were in.

 Asmodeos did not expect to see Nestor at the entrance, still captured in his painting, looking at them so as if they owed him money.

 Which, if Asmodeos had to be truthful, they did, considering they robbed the man blind.

 "Okay, why is this painting glaring at us?" Peter looked at the painting, deciding that those robes were the robes of a true necromancer.

If Asmodeos had ever been even half as well-dressed as this man, then Peter would have just sworn his allegiance without the need of five gold coins per week or month.

 He honestly couldn't remember how much he was getting paid, considering Asmodeos was yet to pay him anything.

"That's Nestor. Look at him, sitting there in his painting. He's never getting out. Honestly, you shouldn't worry about any caves in dwarven ruins or soap-dropping. This, this is the real torture," Asmodeos was even saying the truth.

 As much as he respected Nestor, he also wanted to be him one day.

 Without the whole being captured in a painting thing.

 And so, he had stolen the man's robes, the robes which the man's system still made for him every day like clockwork out of loyalty and friendship.

 The PVPer of a phoenix looked between the painting and the two men and decided that for lack of anything better to do, he was going to stir up trouble just like he had always wanted.

"Okay, this painting is full of mana, both of you have about as much mana as an ant. I think for starters, we can actually change that," the phoenix said.

 Peter began to shake his head.

 He didn't want to rob a painting of its mana. That would be murder!

Asmodeos also began to shake his head, but he also didn't want that to be the end of the necromancer who had, for better or for worse, been his teacher once.

Nestor, on the other hand, had about enough of this silliness. The necromancer may be in a painting, but he was stronger than both of them combined.

And so, Nestor summoned the police, including some tax collectors, and pointed at the two adventurers and the phoenix.

"These people stole from me! They committed tax fraud! The fairies! We must think of the fairies!"

 With that remark, the officers took action.

 Nestor was pretty satisfied with this. He looked on as the two adventurers were chained up.

Which was done pretty quickly, as they couldn't fight their way out of a bag. They were soon loaded into wagons, their protests ignored.

He looked at the phoenix. He smirked.

 "So, Mike," Nestor said, more than a little bit proud of himself. "You bet on the wrong horse again, you silly bird!"

 Mike didn't really care. Sure, that would be a challenge. He had to bust the two adventurers out of prison now, but was that really the worst that could have happened?

They needed to gain strength. The prison had a very good physical education class. And besides, all that ore chipping in the mine was going to do wonders for their twig-like bodies.

Mike snorted, going after the police officers without much prompting.

 But before he left, he took the two bottomless bags which had been left on the floor. The loot had been collected. Mike could hide it, and no one was going to say a word to the tax collectors. For Mike, unlike Peter and Asmodeos, knew how to use offshore assets.

Nestor shook in rage.

 "I fed you for 700 years and I would have fed you for a thousand more if I had to, but you, you are an ungrateful sack of shit!"

 At Nestor's yell, Mike just turned around, flipping his feathers.

"No, actually, old man, you fed me for a thousand years, and you can't afford to feed me anymore. Your lands are now a thing of the past and your farms have all burned down. You can't even feed yourself. You can't even snatch a soul anymore. What sort of necromancer are you?"

 And so, the two tax evaders began their journey to their forever home, also known as prison. The phoenix system went with them for lack of anything better to do.

And the world began to spin again as a tired, old necromancer took a hold of his head and thought up many new words he could use to curse the phoenix into oblivion. Managing to give Mike a slight indigestion, and nothing more.

Fate was cruel, Nestor decided, as he looked down at his robes.

 Cruel and spiteful.

 He sighed, preparing to waste away. For Mike was right. Had always been right.