Rise of the Archmage Alister

The crackling sound of rice paper ripped through the wide empty space and red smoke rippled through the slit. It reformed into the shape of the eldritch woman, who gave a deep, noble-like curtsy to the one who was seated in that crescent chair. Her voice was like roses and lilacs, pleasant, clear, and uncomfortably human, “My lord. I have completed the first of your tests.”

“I saw,” the pale lord said, voice rasping like an old radio again. They leaned forward, showing their feminine face and androgynous body, covered with thick robes that draped across them, bound by a golden rope around their waist. Straight inky hair dripped down around its shoulders, and they sighed, smiling at a mirror-like surface which showed the playback of the fight, “I’m… pleasantly surprised. I think I have made a good choice. To be able to summon gods and goddesses to her body like that… and then the boy duke, summoning a weapon so old. I am unfamiliar with this godkiller figure she mentioned - I think it was before our time, Leqlia.”

“I agree, lord,” Leqlia, the smoke and cloth woman said, head still bowed, “Before our time… but to be before the fall is so long ago. Humans do not live so long.”

“Most of us don’t either,” it sighed, resting a hand against his jaw, “Most of us die at the hands of heroes, gods, or greater races, after all.” The lord let out a long hum, “It’s going well. While they’re out on this trip I want you to test them a few more times. Just be wary of the dragon when they get to the capital.”

“Of course, lord.”

“I’ll be busy, so do keep yourself managed. I don’t want to clean any messes. For now, I suppose I’ll be a male. I think my chances are higher if I pick one or the other, and men are more often liked,” he mused, standing with a wave of his hand to make the image go away. He stretched, staring at Leqila, “They don’t like dripping, do they, though? That’s annoying. Humans and whatnot are so picky. Naga less so, but they look odd to most. Those considered people by the humans and the elves… let’s see… what should I do?”

“I do not know what the people do, sir.”

“I’m not actually asking you, Leqlia. I'm thinking aloud. I must act person-like, you see. Persons think aloud.”

“You already act very person-like, sir.”

He scoffed, glaring, “How dare you. Leave me!”

Leqlia bowed again and left through the crack, which sewed itself together again.

The eldritch lord huffed, patting his robes down and looking himself over. He was pale as parchment, with oily liquid dripping from his straight black hair. His hair drifted down to the ground, which was wet as well, a still mirrored watery surface that rippled as he shuffled his feet. Despite the floor being filled with liquid in this empty space, he was unbothered. The idea of being seen as personly was far more bothersome than anything here, after all.

He supposed he looked mostly like a human. He was bipedal with two limbs, shaped like a humanoid without body hair, but he took some amount of pride in his stark white skin and oozing void black hair. Humans didn’t get this pale, though. And he didn’t think he acted very person-like… perhaps more than his subordinates, but what blasphemy. To be a person like them was to be as boring as they come. The man sighed deeply, and waved his hands down over his body, changing his appearance to better suit a common man.

Alister slept for most of the rest of the day, emotionally exhausted. Wisteria agreed not to say anything to the divine until they formulated a plan, and the others agreed not to say anything about it. He was thankful that he had people that cared so much about him.

It was interesting that the law said that the crimes of a past life were not your own. Where he lived in the past, if you had a lot of past memories it wasn’t exactly seen favorably. Even moreso if you had committed any crimes. It was seen as a punishment, a sign that you still had to atone.

He felt like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders, only for different ones to be placed on them. But it was okay. He much preferred these weights. A step forward. Now he had to worry about how to break it to the gods, through Wisteria, that he had reincarnated, about actually learning how to be a Duke and to have finesse, and about how to actually make social change without as much violence. But his friends and family knew him better now… a fair trade off, he supposed. The humor of the situation, godkiller turned duke, wasn’t lost on him.

After everyone was awake, they spent the next day and the next couple of days waiting for the family and the train with him explaining and answering hundreds of questions.

It felt like an eternity, but the family member they had been waiting for finally arrived.

Saria Severin. Blas’s younger sister by a year. She had straight black hair and grey eyes like her brother, opting to keep her long hair in a tightly swirled braid bun. Looking like a proper noblewoman, she had on a beautiful burgundy gown, and curtsied to Alliana.

“Duchess Alliana, it’s such a pleasure to see you,” she said, voice like honey and smooth whiskey, “And to see the young lord, Alister. I doubt you remember me. I haven’t seen you since you were a babe.”

“And where’s my greeting little sis??” Blas teased, grinning like a cat.

Alliana tapped his arm with her fan, “Oh don’t be difficult. She’s merely greeting the important ones first.”

Alister sighed. They had had some sort of argument in the last two nights and now his mother was taking every opportunity to jab lightly at his father. He gave a slight bow to his aunt, “Alas I don’t remember you.”

“It’s not a problem. I am Margravine Saria Severin. I’m only a year younger than your father,” she said, grinning and completely ignoring Blas, “I hope you’ll get along with my sons. Darrius. Decan. Introduce yourselves.”

Two boys, the elder of them with short greyish hair instead of black, but the same Severin grey eyes, and the younger of them with shaggy grey-blue hair and again grey eyes, shuffled forward.

The older one spoke up first, giving a short bow, “I’m Darrius Severin. I… uh… I’m fourteen. And this is my brother-“ the younger one gave a reluctant head bow, “Decan Severin. He just turned eleven.”

“Alister Severin. I am nearly nine,” Alister stated in return. How annoying. Other children to deal with. He glanced at Wisteria and ushered her over, “This is my friend Wisteria O’neah. She’s recently turned thirteen.”

The boys eyed her with amorous looks, stunned by her blemishless skin and petite stature, but most of all her gem features. Alister couldn’t help but let out a small huff of disdain. Boys. They’d be so annoying.

The only one left to introduce was Saria’s husband Paul, a chubby elven man with light blue hair, nearly-white eyes, and olive skin. He was a little older than his wife, thirty-six, but given that age gaps weren’t uncommon he’d say she was pretty lucky he was around her age. Paul was… fine. Typical nobleman for a typical noblewoman. Neither of them overly intrigued Alister. They seemed so boring! Alliana loved having people around that acted “properly” though. She even brought out a chess set!

Finally, though, it was time for the train!