*Book One of The Accursed Chronicles*
August was a man from a normal world, living a mundane life until one night everything changed, and he was sent spiraling into a world stuck forever in winter, full of magic, creatures, and a curse that has grip...
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Altair had snuck away from the Red Ball and had headed out of the city on horseback, to Cassian's encampment outside of the walls. Cassian had refused to stay within the city or in the castle itself, and Altair had to admire his cunning decision, but it made it difficult for Altair to reach him without causing a spectacle.
The wind ripped past Altair as he approached Cassian's tent alone. Cassian had kept his party small, hardly noticeable, or suspicious towards anyone. Their presence would be forgotten in the chaos to come, if the chaos were to ever come. Cassian was delaying.
Altair stepped up to the tent's entry, glaring at a Misonte guard who attempted to block his path. The guard had to know who he was, and if he didn't, he would find out soon enough, but it wasn't necessary. The guard glanced over him and then moved aside with a subtle bow of his head, letting Altair pass, as if he needed the guard's permission. Altair owned Miltos at this point.
When Altair lifted back the tent's flap, he moved into the warm tent, glowing with the dim light of candles. He hadn't glanced far into the space before his gaze fell to Cassian. Cassian, shirtless and skin dewy from water, held his sword in his grasp, wiping the blade clean with a cloth. He stood beside a basin, dipping the cloth into the water, and then removing it as he polished the blade. Altair watched the darkened water, stained red, drip into the basin below before he screwed his face up in disgust.
"What problem have you caused for me?"
Cassian hardly flinched at Altair's tone, only slowly and casually glanced over his shoulder at Altair as he continued to wipe his blade dry. "I took care of a problem before it could become one. You should thank me for helping you avoid an unwanted issue."
"You should've come to me first, those decisions aren't yours to make," Altair stated as stern as he could, trying to assert himself over Cassian. Altair crossed his arms over his chest, eyes flicking from the cleaned blade back to Cassian's gaze. "What problem did you fix?"
"You'll find out soon enough."
Altair glanced to the other voice to see Cassian's son Atticus coming out from behind a curtained off area of the tent. He held a linen shirt and tunic in hand, offering them to Cassian on his approach. Altair upturned his nose away from Atticus, paying him little mind as this was between him and Cassian.
"There will be another problem soon if you do not arrive at the ball. You're causing too much attention to be placed onto yourself and are raising suspicion," Altair continued, then stiffened when Cassian tightened his grip on the shirt and tunic.
"Only you are raising suspicion by coming here," he replied as a shadow fell over his face on his approach to Altair. He overshadowed Altair, blocking him from the candlelight. "You should return to your ball before they question where you are and why you went here alone."
Altair dropped his arms to his sides, fists clenched as his gaze shifted from Cassian to Atticus then back to Cassian. He glanced to the water basin and the wet rag having been left there. They had made a mess of things, yet that was what happened when you left matters in the hands of humans. He begrudgingly had accepted them as his allies, all for the prospect of earning what was rightfully his.
