On the fifteenth day of the Frigid Moon, Cecil City had already begun to fill with the atmosphere of victory.
For ordinary citizens, the tangled interests between nations were too profound, and knowledge involving the gods was too distant. Many people could not understand the many truths behind this war, but a war ending in victory was always worth celebrating—although the official ceasefire announcement had yet to be released, and negotiations between Typhon and Cecil had not even begun, much good news had already started spreading through the well-connected major cities. In this final month of winter, that news invigorated people as much as the coming Month of Revival.
Near the Imperial Academy, a tall young man with short silver hair was striding down the street.
The snow left on the roads from several days ago had already been cleared away. Dirty piles of snow clustered beneath the roadside trees, waiting to become fresh nourishment for them when the weather warmed. Several children in thick winter clothes ran back and forth between the snowbanks, heedless of whether they dirtied their clothes as they threw the grimy snow at each other. Citizens on leave also strolled lazily past, while some stood in their doorways discussing the various bits of news circulating through the city with their neighbors—most of it about the war at the border.
Ordinary people's understanding of war was always one-sided. Even if they themselves might have endured displacement and hardship, they still could not accurately describe the great war that had taken place between Typhon and Cecil. They discussed the Empire's victory, the enemy's retreat, and rumors of gods losing control and churches being corrupted in their own way. Those voices reached the silver-haired young man's ears. A helpless smile appeared on his face, and he quickened his