Reincarnated as the Villain's Butler

Chapter 8

A/N: Ha! Fooled you. It's not a time skip, but an old drawing I did of adult Altair. Enjoy :)

Anyways, welcome back everyone! It's a pleasant surprise to see this story be this popular after I had left it alone for such a long while. If you are new by the time this chapter is out, feel free to ignore this but for the older readers, I have made some changes.

1. The term "morphing" has changed to "shifting"

2. The Queen's assassination has been pushed back  from 2 years to 8 years from present time.

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Altair Wolf was a Black Dog.

They were a lineage of wolf Ii'ahns that had pledged their and their children's lives to dedicated, unparalleled devotion to serve the great noble family of Linhearth as gratitude for their gracious protection.

Their original tribe name was long forgotten, but they had lived in the far eastern plains that bordered the Eastern Continent, where their strength and agility was almost unparalleled. But as elite as their strength was, their scarcity led to them simply being no match for the overwhelming numbers that threatened to exterminate them completely— whether that may be death or enslavement.

The Linhearths, who had spread their military conquest to the southeast before reaching their current shaky peace with the Reien Empire, had eliminated these threats whilst under their control. With those threats managed, it allowed both the future Black Dogs and other tribes that were similarly threatened to stay their land without such threats.

And while the Black Dogs initially had established themselves as competent allies on the battlefield for their strength both before and after their oath, eventually their role evolved to comfortably place themselves as trusted and vital aides in their numerous households.

Eventually with their abilities honed by extensive training paired with their unending loyalty, their service became renowned as the absolute best in their field countrywide... and to such a noble and prestigious family who was indisputably the heart of the Edellion's military, those words attracted them like a dragon drawn to gold, hoarding their findings and adorning themselves with them like prized trophies.

As such, they were valuable— to the proud Linhearths, to the aristocrats who could only stare in envy at their prestige, to the slave hunters who make a fortune by taking advantage of the fools who think they can use slavery to imitate their prestige from stray Black Dogs born outside Dukedom.

The first and only son of the head of the Black Dogs which main family directly served the main residence, as well as a full shifter— while humbling, unfortunately Alatir's importance even along the already prized Black Dogs also meant that his efforts to leave was near impossibile, even by force. It wasn't even a matter of age or suitability like he had thought in the past— quite literally, he was born to serve the heir of Linhearth, expected to father the next generation forward.

But yet he had continued his efforts regardless— no, even more so after realizing the true nature of what it meant to be born a Black Dog... the nightmare that was not that his family was simply ignorant to their situation as he first believed, but had instead had accepted it knowing that their lives were not their own.

"Our purpose was one that was higher than ourselves," they were taught, "we were born to serve, and our lives serve no other purpose than to be our masters' hands and feet. When we are able to acknowledge that our lives were spent to our fullest capability to serve, we will know that our death will not be in vain and our lives were an honorable one." Such was their life of servitude.