Altair had been a quiet soul since the day of his birth. When Caspian Nestor first cradled his newborn son, separated from his deceased mother, he initially believed the baby had also departed this world. Yet, as if stirred by the tender embrace of his father, the tiny boy, wrapped in a tattered black cloth, finally unveiled his blood-red eyes, locking gazes with his father, though no cry escaped his lips.
Even on that fateful night when Caspian met his untimely demise at the hands of the Imperial Knights, Altair remained silent.
Life in the desolate slums near the Eastern border was a grim tale of darkness, cold, filth, and perpetual hunger. Despite enduring colossal hardships bordering on the brink of illness and starvation, Altair staunchly refused to shed a tear, for he found no cause to do so.
