The winters of Eastern Europe are harsh enough to freeze the soul.
But thanks to the spoils of their recent victories, the lives of the Huns were now better than before.
As one of the Hun Kings, Avia had many duties waiting on his desk. Yet, finding a moment to rest was not so difficult—if only he chose to take it.
"If you're free, Attila—and if you don't mind—shall we go out together?"
"Mm. I'm free. I'll go."
The silver-haired girl, fresh from training, nodded vigorously, as if eager to express something more.
Stepping outside the royal court, they were greeted by rows of tents. Neither Avia, who extended the invitation, nor Attila, who accepted it, had any particular destination in mind.
After all, this had long been their habit—wandering side by side. They strolled through the market stalls where Romans and Germanic folk mingled, paused to watch skilled performers put on street shows, and lingered by a strange doll of unfamiliar craft that caught Attila's eye. She stared at it for a long time, captivated.
"By the way, where's Typhon? She's usually always at your side."
"She said that since winter has come, she just wants to sleep a little more."
"...Hmph. Not that I'm overthinking, but—Typhon may be a dragon, not a human, yet her form is that of a girl. And she sticks to you in your tent every day. I think that's rather unfair."
The white-haired girl's face tightened into a solemn frown.
"Attila, aren't you much the same?"
Avia chuckled at his own retort.
And hearing his laughter, Attila suddenly found her mood lightened, a warmth rising inside her chest. Her stern expression softened into something gentler.
As they walked through the crowd, strangers brushed past without recognition, yet the Huns who knew them would greet the two Kings briefly:
"Ah! It's the King!"
"King, you must try the food here—it's very good!"
The Hun Empire, as a nomadic power, had always absorbed the cultures of the lands around it. Under Avia's guidance, their people mingled with Germans, Romans, and even Persians on the streets.
"By the way," Avia spoke suddenly, "when we have time in the future, let's experience another way of life—one beyond the life of warriors."
"...Mm."
Attila's heart skipped a beat.
A life beyond that of a warrior… Would it mean journeying as free riders across the world? Would it be farming the soil, tending to the wheat, and baking bread in a hot oven?
Would it be hunting beasts and birds? Learning the art of writing, penning books to preserve memory?
Such a life—beyond the battlefield and the blade—was one she had never known. It was not that she hated her existence as a warrior.
It was simply that she wondered: if she had not been born a warrior, what kind of life would she have lived?
Someday, when the time came… they would go together.
Just the two of them?
The white-haired girl found the thought slipping unbidden into her mind. Flustered, she shook it off—this was no time for such idle fancies.
Still, her steps grew lighter, quicker. And then, a passing glimpse of the steppe made her pause.
The crowded streets, the flowers and grasses swaying in the winter breeze, and the clear sky above—all of it seemed alive, brimming with energy, despite the season's cold.
Where were the two of them now?
Perhaps—in a world where, though winter had arrived, spring yet lingered, and flowers still bloomed in full.
---
Some days earlier, after the war with the three great empires had ended—
"Fou."
Roused by the white magical hound, Aerteluci blinked awake and glanced around her chamber.
"What is all this...?"
Her eyes fell on a table piled high with dried flowers, handwoven trinkets, and little ornaments. She could not help her puzzlement.
It all reminded her of the things she had once left behind in Constantinople, things she had never packed away properly. She remembered those years in that city.
Among humans, gifts were exchanged. But among Dead Apostles, never.
In fact, she could not even recall the last time anyone had given her something.
Could it be the guards and knights? Had they simply imitated the customs of humans they'd seen too often?
Tilting her small head, she picked up the offerings. A faint sweet fragrance drifted on the air. Freshly gathered, preserved by magecraft.
Though dried, the flowers had been carefully chosen and combined, their hues and delicate scent harmonizing beautifully. She could not suppress a quiet exclamation of wonder. Unconsciously, she found herself absorbed, entranced, until at last she realized how deeply she had fallen into them.
"Fou!"
"..."
Her pet's reminder jolted her awake. And then she understood who had sent these.
Avia—the human bound to her by contract. He had called them a gift, a token of alliance.
Perhaps it was mere flattery. After all, the last time he had led her into that so-called "valley," it had clearly been to embarrass her.
Yet, even as she thought this, her lips curled into a bright, involuntary smile.
Later, she affixed the flowers and ornaments to her wall, just as she had once done in Constantinople.
Perhaps, for the first time, she had received a gift untainted by mockery or manipulation. A gift given simply out of genuine care.
"Next time we meet face to face, I'll thank him properly... I'm truly happy. Truly grateful."
---
Some time after, in his room at the Hun royal court—sparse, devoid of belongings despite its luxury—Avia stood. No baggage, no personal items. Only the pale glow of moonlight slipping through the tent.
Stepping outside, he was met by the night air. The temperature had plummeted. The heavy silver clouds had finally parted, and above him stretched a winter sky, studded with stars like falling snow. It lacked the colors of spring, but it was beautiful nonetheless.
Yet winter brought not only beauty. It was the season of death—scarce food, short days, and a cold that gnawed to the bone.
"I'm going to the Millennium City. Will you come with me?"
At the sound of footsteps pressing lightly against the thin snow, Avia lifted his gaze.
There she was—the black-haired girl—standing silently before him, her shadow faint beneath the moonlight.
"Since we are allies, it would not be proper for me to refuse."
"Mm."
Her words carried not the slightest hint of tenderness, only the same unshakable coldness as ever. Yet they continued naturally:
"You must keep up with me, Avia. And… I was very happy. Truly grateful. For accepting my invitation—and for the gift you sent me."