HISTORY & EVENTS
Alistair was raised in a respectable, prosperous household that valued education, civic duty, and the rule of law. His family was neither noble nor particularly influential, but they had built a comfortable life through honest work. That life was nearly destroyed when an ambitious archmage attempted an experimental ritual in the heart of their city. The spell promised extraordinary advancements in magical transportation, but its failure devastated several neighborhoods, including Alistair's family home. His parents and siblings survived, though the family lost much of what they possessed. What troubled Alistair most was not the destruction itself, nor even the mage's arrogance, but what followed. The archmage faced no criminal charges. His experiment had been licensed, its risks technically disclosed, and the city's authorities were reluctant to prosecute a man whose magical expertise they depended upon. Alistair's father, a practical man, rebuilt their home and eventually forgave the mage. His mother insisted that bitterness would accomplish nothing. Alistair agreed with them in principle, but drew a different conclusion: forgiveness was a personal virtue; accountability was a public necessity. He pursued formal magical education, specializing in abjuration, convinced that the greatest contribution a wizard could make was protecting ordinary people from extraordinary power. Eventually, he became a licensed bounty hunter, tracking rogue spellcasters, recovering dangerous artifacts, and bringing magical criminals before lawful authorities. He developed a reputation for meticulous preparation, dry wit, unshakable composure, and an almost irritating insistence on proper procedure. He rarely kills his quarry, believing that justice demands a trial rather than a convenient corpse. Nevertheless, years of watching wealthy and influential spellcasters escape consequences have left him increasingly skeptical of the institutions he once trusted without reservation. He still visits his family regularly, enjoys his mother's cooking, and endures his siblings' affectionate mockery of his self-importance. They remind him that there is more to life than his crusade, though he seldom listens as closely as he should.
A Vignette — The Sorceress and the Warrant
Alistair found Lady Seraphine Veyr sitting in his rented room, drinking his best brandy and examining the arrest warrant bearing her name. "Three counts of unlawful enchantment, two of fraud, and one of interfering with a magistrate," she observed. "You forgot breaking your heart." Alistair removed his gloves with deliberate care. "That offense, regrettably, remains legal." She laughed, but her amusement faded when he noticed the blood soaking through her sleeve. Without a word, he retrieved his medical supplies and began dressing the wound. "You could arrest me now," she murmured. "I intend to." "And yet you're helping me." He tightened the bandage, eliciting a sharp complaint. "The law requires that prisoners receive appropriate care. It does not require that I be gentle." She smiled despite herself. For a moment, neither spoke. Then Seraphine placed a small velvet pouch on the table. Inside lay a collection of enchanted rings stolen from a corrupt magistrate—evidence Alistair had spent months trying to obtain. "A gift," she said. "Consider it an apology for the trouble." Alistair examined the rings, then looked at her. "What do you want?" Her smile returned. "A thirty-minute head start." He should have refused. Instead, he reached for his pocket watch. "Twenty minutes. And I expect my brandy replaced." She kissed his cheek as she passed. "You really are a terrible bounty hunter, darling." After she vanished, Alistair stood alone for several moments before quietly correcting the arrest warrant to include another count of theft. He told himself the bargain had been necessary to expose a greater corruption. What unsettled him was how readily he'd believed it.
Before he became a bounty hunter, Alistair served six years as a scout in the Royal Pathfinder Corps, a specialized unit tasked with reconnaissance, tracking fugitives, and identifying threats along the kingdom's borders. He distinguished himself through meticulous preparation, an exceptional eye for detail, and an unusual talent for detecting magical concealment. His superiors respected his competence, though they frequently found his insistence on regulations exhausting. His disgrace came during an assignment to investigate reports of illicit sorcery in a remote border village. Alistair discovered that the local magistrate had secretly commissioned a court wizard to enchant the villagers into obedience, suppressing dissent against increasingly burdensome royal taxes. The enchantments were subtle, leaving their victims outwardly compliant but incapable of meaningful resistance. Alistair gathered evidence, arrested the wizard, and submitted his findings through the proper channels. Three days later, he received orders to release the prisoner, surrender his evidence, and withdraw. The magistrate was a favored cousin of the king, and the wizard's services were considered indispensable to the crown. Alistair refused. When a royal officer arrived to enforce the order, Alistair invoked an obscure provision of military law permitting the detention of individuals accused of unlawful magical coercion until a magistrate could review the charges. Unfortunately, the provision did not specify what happened when the magistrate himself was implicated. Alistair's interpretation was legally defensible, politically disastrous, and spectacularly unwelcome.
The ensuing tribunal stripped him of his commission for insubordination and conduct unbecoming a royal officer. He escaped imprisonment largely because the crown preferred a quiet dismissal to a public examination of the evidence. On his final evening in uniform, his commanding officer, Captain Edric Vale, visited him in the barracks. "You could have obeyed," Vale observed. "You knew what refusing would cost." Alistair continued polishing the insignia he would surrender in the morning. "I was ordered to investigate unlawful magic. I investigated unlawful magic." Vale sighed. "You were ordered to serve the crown." Alistair looked up. "I was under the impression the distinction mattered." For a long moment, his former commander said nothing. Then Vale placed a sealed envelope on the table: Alistair's original findings, which had supposedly been destroyed. "For what it's worth," Vale said, "you were right." Alistair accepted the envelope without smiling. "I would have preferred being employed." Years later, Alistair still keeps his tarnished scout's insignia alongside his bounty hunter's license. He tells acquaintances that he left royal service over a disagreement concerning jurisdiction, a description that is technically accurate and almost impressively misleading. His disgrace taught him two lessons he has never fully reconciled: that obedience is not always honorable, and that a man who appoints himself the final judge of lawful authority walks a perilously narrow road. He remains convinced he made the correct decision. He is considerably less certain he would survive making it again.
