Translator: Matty, DC Editor: DC Proofreader: DC TLC: DC
DC’s Note: To reiterate, a large majority of this chapter was translated by OpenAi’s ChatGPT-4 as a part of an experiment to test the capabilities of using ChatGPT-4 for machine translating. Additionally, I will also be posting the character introduction that I stupidly skipped all those years ago when I first picked up this project. As such, a lot of names and phrases will be changed in the previous chapters as I go back to make sure they are consistent with this chapter and whatever else moving forwards. I had a lot of trouble with making decisions for the names since they were very hard to translate in a way that felt fluid, so I made executive decisions on the given names. If anyone finds better alternatives, feel free to leave a comment and I’ll see if I agree.
Without further ado, please enjoy the fruits of our and ChatGPT’s labor.
Iris Maiden
“Ashur, Ashur!”
It was too late when he realized the danger. A momentary drowsiness took over Ashur’s consciousness. He almost fell off his horse. If it weren’t for his attendant, he would have definitely fallen. His body finally succumbed to the continuous sleepless marches day and night.
“We really must rest for a bit. Halt the march for the entire unit!”
In the form of endorsing Eunice’s order, Ashur raised his hand. This was to prevent confusion in the chain of command. Eunice Frau Padanau – Eunice was the “tomboyish” one of the two of Ashur’s childhood friends. And the other one was Rosamaria, who is now a Cardinal.
In the past, they were teased for having only one boy among the girls.
Both of them had always been quite beautiful, a trait they had in common, but they had different types of charm. Eunice had a take-charge attitude, often acting before speaking. She would act before thinking… that was just Eunice’s way. To top it off, she was quite meddlesome.
When straying just a little off of the main path there were grasslands which reached out in all directions which was said to be a distinct characteristic of this region. It was taught in history textbooks that in the past there was a dense (primeval) forest which was home to a prehistoric civilization—the Agantilis dynasty—that was revealed in the process of clearing the expanse. Now, it was a vast and extensive paper-thin grass covered plain. While ordering his company to take a break and eat, Ashur entered the ruins being dragged along by Eunice. The ruins were crumbling and desolate, just like the grassy plain; it was a common feature of scenery in the region.
“Take off your breastplate. Come on, I’ll help you. Hurry up. Yes, turn around. You can’t see the leather strap holding the armor, can you? Hey, raise your arms quickly.”
She was like a little mother, a Piccola Mamma1. Ashur wasn’t too eager, but it was his fault for showing his disgraceful state. Ashur had never won in exploiting weaknesses since the old days
“Isn’t it bad for us to be alone together? Won’t there be a misunderstanding?”
“What is there to be misunderstood?”
As Ashur tried to say “our relationship,” he blushed. Eunice, the daughter of the Padanau family who had weathered the turbulent times by getting close to the Baladge family, had an extraordinary connection with Ashur. Eunice’s grandfather, Barton, was a man who had long served as the butler of the Baladge family and was also a skilled spy, as well as his father’s trusted aide. Ashur had relied on him as well, and was expecting him to accompany them on this exploration mission. However, Barton recommended Eunice, citing his old age.
Eunice was excellent in spear wielding, horsemanship, cooking skills, delicate care, and education. However, there was another reason why Ashur was intimidated. Eunice was Ashur’s first woman.
It’s unthinkable for a nobleman, even at the lowest rank, not to know a woman before turning fifteen. It’s not because they casually sleep with women. In this era, the marriages and relationships of nobles were directly linked to the survival of their house and politics. It’s easy to understand that if they were not experienced enough in such acts, they would not be able to maintain their bloodline.
In a noble society where political marriages were common, the bed was also a battleground for the political maneuvering of both families. Not having a legitimate heir meant the family line ending. Adopting a child would involve political considerations. That was the kind of era it was. In some cases, even the parents of the royal family were present in the couple’s bedroom on their wedding night to make sure that the act was successfully performed. This was not a mere trifle, but a serious matter.
In the aristocracy2, it’s not uncommon for a male parent to assign a high-class courtesan called a cortigiana to their son for their first sexual experience. So when Ashur was ordered by his father to go to the cottage on the lakeside in the small territory with a long history of the Baladge family, the Iris House, he obediently followed, thinking it was a rite of passage. That cottage was a facility the Baladge family had used mainly for just such education. And there, he was to be shocked by the woman waiting for him. She was there in the world illuminated only by the light of the fireplace as the sun went down. Her flaxen hair and hazel eyes gazed at Ashur.
She led the flustered Ashur to the bed and locked the door of the room. Then she confessed her love. From her childhood. She had always kept it a secret in her heart.
※
Ashur couldn’t bring himself to refuse or say, “I can’t accept.” He understood Eunice’s heartbreaking determination. In the noble Baladge family and the servant Padanau family, although they could maintain a master-servant relationship, marriage was out of the question. Tradition forbade it. They could only be together if they abandoned their houses, but they loved their families too much to do that. There was no other way for them to be united, even if only in a physical relationship. As they continued to see each other, Ashur finally realized his own feelings. He too loved Eunice. When he confessed this, Eunice cried. He would never forget those tears.
The two made a promise: never to take their relationship outside the house of the Irises. When they wanted to meet, they would write only the time on a letter marked with an iris and wait in that house.
“You’re spacing out again, Ashur. Get some sleep.” A bittersweet memory was interrupted by the meddling voice, patronizing and guardian-like.
Indeed, Eunice was a few months older, but she seemed like a completely different person from the fragile, lovely girl in the house of irises.
“Come on, Ashur, to your bed.”
Eunice, who had swiftly removed her leg armor and was now barefoot, laid out a blanket and beckoned Ashur. He wondered when her lap had become his bed, but he couldn’t resist Eunice’s casual invitation, as if calling a pet dog.
As instructed, he rested his head on her lap. A pleasant smell of high-quality hay emanated from Eunice—a comforting scent, Eunice’s scent. Guided by that scent, Ashur drifted off to sleep.
Ashur found himself in the midst of a terrifying dream. A voice from above questioned him, “Why are you crawling around in such a place?” It sounded like his father. The air was thick with the smell of sulfur and the unbearable heat radiated from the rocky surface beneath him. Though he knew it was a dream, an unshakable fear crawled over his skin.
“At a time when the woman you love is on the brink of death, do you intend to sleep?” The words were severe, but not cruel. Desperately clinging to the emotions evoked by that pain, Ashur mustered his willpower and forced his heavy eyelids open. Beyond the haze and soot, he saw the woman—naked, handcuffed, and suspended. A monstrous hand, covered in human skin stretched over bone, traced her jawline. Even if it was a dream, he could not forgive it. A chilling scream erupted from within him, “Do not touch her!”
However, despite his brave words, Ashur’s body remained motionless. A voice taunted him, “I told you. This ‘Closed Corridor Birdcage’ is the enemy’s territory, the domain itself. Those without ‘power’ cannot even deviate without the permission of the ‘Closed Corridor’ king.” As if to prove the man’s words, no matter how hard Ashur tried, he couldn’t move a single finger.
The sound of someone suddenly stepping on a rock echoed, and the legs of a beast appeared in Ashur’s field of vision.
The creature’s foot was not a horse’s hoof, but three soft-looking fingers. Within his immobilized body, Ashur strained his only movable eyes and looked up. Beyond the golden fleece, he saw a man dressed in black. This man was not his father, yet his voice carried the same, if not greater, dignity and wisdom.
“What should I do?” Ashur cried out desperately, fearing for the safety of the woman he loved. He was willing to offer his “soul” if it could save her. However, the man dismissed Ashur’s plea.
“Don’t beg, boy.” Ashur was kicked away by the beast’s leg and fell on his back.
Now, the man’s figure was fully revealed. He wore an unadorned golden crown on his head, without any sign of pride. Casually bearing the responsibility of a king, his eyes remained focused forward.
“There are no ‘souls’ for humans, nor for everything else in this world. Needless to say, for a boy like you, however, you can approach a ‘soul.'” The man instructed Ashur to first imagine the “Spindle,” which he described as the ‘power’ of a spiral and change. It was the ‘power’ that broke through the ‘Closed Corridor,’ accessible only to those with ‘will.’
“Boy, are you not the same?” The man’s resounding voice struck Ashur’s ears once more.
—
“How long do you plan on staying like that? Stand up,” a voice, both stern and gentle, urged Ashur to rise. He obeyed, feeling an invisible force swirling nearby.
“Spindles” Ashur realized, sensing their power. Six of them were close enough to touch if he reached out. His weapon, the divine spear Shivneer, was silently offered to him.
For the first time, Ashur truly observed the man’s face. He was beautiful, yet not human—possessing long ears, translucent white skin, and elongated limbs. His fiery red eyes burned with determination and power, the face of a king. Ashur admired the strength with which the man effortlessly manipulated the six Spindles.
“If you choose the path of the ‘Soul Spinner,’ a path even the First Emperor of Agantilis, Fram, could not attain, never forget: those who oppose you will either be kings or defy the world’s order—they will embody that,” the otherworldly king spoke as if foretelling the future. Without dwelling on the meaning of his words, Ashur grasped Shivneer, determined to save someone. All other thoughts vanished from his mind.
At this point, the dream shifted scenes. The roaring torrent of Spindle energy seemed to merge with Ashur’s memories, transforming the landscape.
On his twelfth birthday, Ashur’s father spoke to him about the enemy he would one day face. His father visited him as he lay bedridden, feverish for a month. Until then, his mother, Rosamaria, and Eunice Frau had all cared for him devotedly, but they left the room when his father arrived. Ashur wondered why his father, who hadn’t even shown his face when he was on the brink of death due to an epidemic, was visiting him now. A foreboding feeling took root in his heart.
“Father, am I going to die?” young Ashur asked, voicing his fear. To his surprise, his father replied, “No, you will be reborn.” In other words, as a Spindle ability user.
Ashur struggled to grasp what he was being told. But his father continued.
—
“In this world, boundaries exist. One is filled with light and wind—the world where your mother, Rosamaria, and Eunice reside. The other is a realm engulfed in eternal twilight—an alternate world. You now attempt to cross the dark channel, a shadowy river flowing in between, separating these two realms.”
“Do you understand?” his father asked.
“I don’t,” Ashur replied.
“I’m telling you that you are coming to my side.” In his hazy consciousness, Ashur looked at his father’s face. It wasn’t the father he knew but a lone knight who had been fighting the eternal twilight.
“I didn’t want you to come to this side. I didn’t want you to become like me.” His father’s words carried a sorrowful resonance, as if cursing fate. Nonetheless, that single phrase ignited something in Ashur’s chest. He understood, not with words but with his heart, that he had been loved. That alone was enough for tears to overflow, and Ashur could not stop the torrential downpour.
The fever that occupied his skull and swirled in his lungs began to flow, as if it knew its destination. Then, an invisible yet definite power could be felt, spinning above his chest.
“Spindle,” his father revealed the name of that power. “It is a power to confront the enemy rooted in the world’s order. It is a fragment of a miracle called forth by human will to change the unchangeable.”
“Have you crossed over?” his father asked, his voice uncertain whether to celebrate or lament.
“You will surely come to regret having come to this place. Our enemies are monsters that parasitize the world’s order and claim their own territories. They behave as kings within their domains. People without Spindle abilities in their territories are captives of their stories. That is the place you are heading to now.”
“But once you’ve come, there’s no turning back”, his father added quietly, yet solemnly.
“From today on, you have become a Spindle ability user. While in the sunlight, you have become one who walks the dark channel.” Then, let me teach you everything—knowledge, techniques, all kinds of skills. Only with your heart, you must decide”, his father said.
And so, Ashur’s childhood came to an end.
※
It took some time for Ashur to realize he had been dreaming. This might have been partly due to Eunice, who was peering at him with the fragile-looking face of a young girl. “Were you having a nightmare?” she asked.
“You called my name many times.”
In a moment of impulsive affection, Ashur hugged Eunice. There was no time to restrain himself; he desperately wanted to feel her presence.
“I had a dream where I might lose you,” he admitted.
“Were you scared?”
“I realized deep in my heart that I didn’t want to lose you.”
“I’m not something you can lose,” Eunice reassured him. “I’ll always come back on my own.”
—
She spoke lightly, but her words trembled with tears at the end. Then, she forcibly pulled her arm away.
‘Why?’ Ashur wondered. He soon discovered the reason.
“Were you in the middle of… something?” A subordinate knight peeked his face out from the side of the ruins. “Please call me Soras.”
The bearded knight, who appeared to be in his mid-thirties, introduced himself with a candid expression. Soras Naras Bido was an elite member of the Ixus Holy Knights. Although he was not a Holy Knight because he did not possess Spindle abilities, he was a highly skilled fighter who far surpassed Ashur in pure combat ability. Soras was a rare talent, able to interact with people regardless of age, gender, or rank due to his fair and gentle nature. He was the deputy commander of this exploration mission—essentially the leader.
“Well, I apologize for earlier. We were past muster.” Soras knew how to gently but firmly admonish when necessary, and he was a man who could adapt to his audience.
“I’m ashamed. I only showed you my worst side,” Ashur admitted.
“That’s how it is with the first mission after being appointed as a Holy Knight. Besides, spending time with someone important makes a person stronger. In the end, it’s the obsession with what’s important that matters on battlefields,” Soras reassured him.
Footnotes:
1. TL: It writes “Little Mother” both in Japanese, as well as Italian.
2. TL: The author uses the term(s) 貴族階級(Kizoku Kaikyuu) which can mean “Noble” and “Class”, “Aristocrat” and “Rank”, or if ran together, “Nobility/Aristocracy”. So after thinking about it some, I thought to myself “What’s the difference between Aristocracy and Nobility?” and after look it up, it turned out that there was a pretty big difference after all, though it’s likely people rarely make the distinction, especially the Japanese or even Asians since they seem pretty synonymous. Being an aristocrat, as it turns out, is means that you are usually related to the current ruling monarch, usually govern over territories, and have titles which are hereditary. Aristocrats also include monarchs themselves. Nobility, on the other hand, is when you are given a title from an aristocrat and are usually non-hereditary, meaning that once the title-bearer dies, it won’t be passed onto anyone in the family or otherwise. Additionally, Nobility is a social class, while Aristocracy is more of a rule of sorts. It’s better explained here.