Side Story: The Tale of Shalisha 1 — The Prodigy of the Frontier

I have not written in some time.

Beginning today, May 15th, the first volume of this work, "A Happy Past and the Virgin of the Barrier," is now available as an e-book through Kindle, au BookPass, honto, BookLive, and other platforms.

In celebration of this release, I will be running a short-term side story series.

This is the tale of Shalisha.

I hope you enjoy it.

"Shalisha, if you had been a boy, I would have surely passed the family estate to you."

The words my father spoke to me countless times in my childhood.

To me, they have always felt like a heavy chain around my feet.

I was born into the lordly family of the Frontier County of Mar, located in the far northwest of the Empire. I was the fourth child of the lord and lady, and the long-awaited eldest daughter.

The Frontier County of Mar, where our family resides, lies at the very edge of the Empire’s territory. Because it lies beyond the Barrier, it is constantly threatened by bandits and invasions from enemy nations—making it the front line of defense.

Beyond the Barrier, the Empire’s territory has long been home to a diverse mix of peoples. After the Empire’s founding, scattered tribes and nomadic groups settled here and were incorporated as noble families, forging a history of coexistence, mutual support, and cooperation in defending this frontier land.

It is rare among Imperial nobles for me to carry blood of such a minority tribe.

My name, Sharisha, is uncommon within the Empire.

It was my maternal grandmother—born of one of those tribes—who gave me this name.

She said it means “one of great wisdom” in the ancient tongue of the small tribes.

In Imperial speech, however, the word carries the meaning of “hesitating,” “unable to decide,” or “dallying”—a name I find utterly fitting. For I am, indeed, a timid soul who often shuts the door on the path I wish to walk, the things I truly desire.

But to return to the matter at hand—this land, with its origins in such a blend of bloodlines, holds as its highest values loyalty and martial virtue.

This way of life is deeply reflected in the structure of our household. From the time I could first distinguish between things, I was raised among weapons and warhorses.

Once I could walk, I followed after my elder brothers, and the training grounds were as much a playground to me as any other place.

I swung weapons as one might play with toys, and on rainy days, I grew up playing with the pieces of the military chessboard among the adults.

Ah, allow me to explain the military chessboard. It is a board game that fuses the game of chess from the western lands with the strategy of shogi from the eastern realms, interweaving terrain conditions, weather effects, and special pieces with unique roles. It is used not only for recreation but also to plan real campaigns against bandits, and I have always loved it.

From childhood, I have grown up with horses that required neither saddle nor bridle, and could ride them bareback—equally at ease with longsword, shortsword, dual blades, staff, mace, bow, and even crossbow. By mere action alone, I was the kind of child who fit the description of a wild mare to a T. And yet, even so, my nature has always been timid and shy with strangers. Grandmother once teased me, saying with a smile, “You’re the sort who’d knock on a stone bridge three times before even crossing it.”

By the time I had come of age, I had mastered swordplay, staff techniques, archery, and horsemanship—each to the level of complete proficiency. There were times I even bested adults in combat. Though I always believed they had merely been indulging me, sparing me their full strength.

My father, delighted by the matter, took great pleasure in announcing it throughout the social circles, which caused a brief rumor throughout Mahr that a child blessed by the War God had appeared. As a result, challengers came seeking matches on multiple occasions. I enjoy honing my martial skill, yet I am uneasy in combat. Because I was only slightly stronger than children of my own age, opponents often refused to engage me, and the uncertainty of how much to hold back—never truly able to commit—became a source of distress. At that time, in the Frontier County of Mahr, there were scarcely more than a handful of peers my age who could stand as equals in battle.

I was forbidden to spar with anyone outside my elder brother and a few cousins without explicit permission.

Even when challengers came from outside, my elders—my uncle or my elder brother—would first test them. Only after receiving approval was I allowed to draw my blade in combat.

Indeed, I believe I only won because my father, concerned for me, had the opponents wear enchanted bracers that suppressed their strength.

I was terrified of those who came to test me, and fought desperately in every match. I would wonder, inwardly weeping, why they chose me at all—winning or losing brought me no gain whatsoever. Yet my father would smile and say, “Do your duty,” and so I had no choice but to continue.

Later, when I learned my father had mistakenly believed I enjoyed the matches, I felt my strength drain away.

And at that time, I never imagined one of those testers would be the son of a high-ranking noble from the Empire, nor that I would defeat him time and again. I never dreamed, not in the least, that he would even ask for my hand in marriage.

Among the martial arts and tactics taught at home, I devoted myself most fervently to the military chessboard, and by the time I was past ten, my skill had grown to the point that no one in the domain could match me.

Yet my talent seemed to burden my father’s gaze.

He spoke it often—“If only you were a boy…”

My father’s interest and sorrow at my ability came to light when I was seven.

That year, winter brought little snow, and the spring meltwater was barely a third of what it had been in previous years. Still, the early summer heat persisted, unrelenting.

From the patterns of past military chess strategies, I reached a troubling conclusion and spoke it to my father.

“Father, there may be drought downstream from Marl this year. With such little snow last winter, the animals’ slumbers were shallow, and the beast damage has increased.

Perhaps bandits will rise as well.”

I had expected my words to be dismissed as childish nonsense, yet my father listened with earnest care.

“Where do you suppose it would fall, then?”

I hesitated, then pointed to several locations on the map of the frontier lands my father had laid out.

“Here and here, there are no reservoirs. The springs feeding the rivers are too far away; if the streams dry up, these areas will fall. And here, the border shifts just before the river—should drought persist, the peasants will abandon their holdings.”

Such conditions were rare even in the upper-tier simulations of military maneuvers, yet they aligned too perfectly.

When peasants can no longer sustain life, their only paths are selling themselves into slavery or turning to banditry. History bears witness to how many succumb to the simple, dangerous logic: it is easier to take than to earn.

And thus, it would not be surprising if some cunning man, seeking to exploit the ignorant, should set his eyes upon this land.

That year, my father seemed to have his own thoughts, and thus support was extended to the two territories I had pointed out, along with heightened vigilance against bandits.

Fortunately, one of the territories heeded our words and agreed to take joint measures.

The other accepted our aid but took no preventive actions of its own, and so many of its people became refugees. Some of them, in the end, turned to banditry and came as far as our Marl territory.

I, as a member of the lordly family, took my first battlefield command that year.

Though it was only a matter of being dispatched to the fortress at the border of our lands, I felt, for reasons I could not explain, a deep certainty: this fortress would become the front line of defense…

I spoke of this to my father, who replied, “Then you shall guard it yourself. I cannot imagine bandits ever reaching such a place.”

But I was certain—our enemy would aim directly for this fortress.

The fortress’s simpler design, its unique position at the four-way border of Marle’s territory and the three neighboring domains, and its proven history as a stopping point for caravans each year—were, had I been the enemy, factors that would have compelled me to assault it, even at great cost.

Father believed the caravan route had been altered this year, and thus saw no danger. But I read it otherwise—more likely, the enemy had not received that intelligence.

As expected, the attack came under cover of dusk.

For the first three days, we focused solely on defense, feigning weakness to draw them in, while sending a detachment around their flank. From there, we conducted reconnaissance on their camp, monitored their movements, confirmed contact with forces from other nations and domains, and launched a decisive counterattack.

I considered joining the front lines myself, but the elders, wisely, held me back.

All I was able to do was plan the strategy and oversee its execution, uncover and apprehend the spies who had infiltrated the fortress.

Even so, Father praised me, saying it was a worthy achievement.

And afterward, I heard that same voice—tinged with disappointment—repeated again and again.

Our family has an heir of noble standing: my elder brother. He is skilled in swordsmanship and horsemanship, entrusted already with command of a small unit. I never once considered myself his equal, nor thought to stand beside him.

And though I am permitted to train now, I already sensed that even this would not last.

I am a woman. My body is soft, lacking in strength compared to men. I have long understood that no matter how I train, I cannot match them in strength, and so I have striven to compensate with technique. Yet I also know that the end is near. The excuse of youth, the advantage of my small stature—both are slipping away.

In the Empire, nearly all who hold military positions are men. Women may serve in the military, but they are few in number, and most are assigned only to duties as guards for the most noble ladies, with no other tasks given to them.

A woman is the guardian of the home. A man is the guardian of the family. In that land, where such notions were deeply ingrained, I was gently reminded at the age of ten that I could not simply pursue my desires as I wished. I closed the lid upon my dreams and my potential, softly, with quiet resolve, that autumn.

I had considered pursuing a military career, but my family is of the border lord lineage.

She is a high-ranking noble, esteemed even among the imperial aristocracy within the barrier.

Letters reached even me in this remote frontier, and there were those who wrote to me with earnest devotion. I am bound by duty to enter a household and support my husband’s family. Even if I were to rise through the military ranks, my days would still be spent within the innermost chambers of the Imperial Palace. I wished to protect the nation in whatever way I could. Having lived my life in a borderland without a barrier, I took pride and honor in defending this land. But who could have imagined the depth of my despair when my mother told me that few nobles within the barrier held such thoughts?

Since I was to enter the academy in the capital at twelve, I felt this place was the proper time to step back and laid down my weapons myself.

Yet at that moment, a great unease stirred within me—could I truly become a noble lady, when I had trained only alongside my father, brothers, and uncles all my life?

The unease within me grew more pronounced after I had been sent early to the townhouse in the imperial capital to adapt to my studies and surroundings.

New days of training and battle began in the capital.

Once more, I offer my apologies for my long silence.

I am Shinoha Sato.

I have written a tale inspired by Shalisha.

I plan to post three or four chapters irregularly, once a week.

It is less a curtain call and more an epilogue, so I shall share it in this form. ^ ^

The military board game featured in the story is an original creation, envisioned as a grand strategic exercise akin to Great Shogi—a colossal board game played on a 15×15 grid, with approximately sixty-five pieces per side—where geographical conditions (such as elevation differences or water features across multiple boards) and meteorological conditions (determined by cards drawn before the match, like bountiful harvests, mild winters, droughts, plagues, or locust infestations) impose restrictions on supplies and available pieces. Though its name bears a resemblance to that of a beloved manga artist known for long hiatuses, I would like readers to think of it as a far larger-scale military drill than the original work.

Given the fantasy setting, magical pieces may well exist.

This side story will reveal why Shasha became a soldier in the end.

It is a tale slightly different from the main narrative—should you enjoy it, I shall be delighted.

Additionally, the e-book version is currently available. If anyone has read it, I would be grateful to hear your thoughts.

The book is now complete, having reached its final volume. I have paused to take a breath, though the ending for certain characters will differ somewhat from what one might expect.

I have written a lengthy afterword, but it is the presence of readers that continually fuels my creative spirit.

With heartfelt gratitude, I say once again—thank you always!

I look forward to your continued support!