Epilogue: The Tale of Sharisha 2 — The Torment of Count Marl

Thank you always for reading.

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Since my true daughter has returned, I have decided to vanish as her adopted daughter. Volume 1 — A Happy Past and the Virgin of the Barrier — is now available.

Volume 2 — First Love and the Debutante — is now available for pre-order exclusively through Comic Sea Moor.

My daughter is a prodigy.

I have been granted the duty by the Empire to guard this land of Marl, and thus am known as a Border Count.

In truth, I am a man of war with little skill in politics, and my manner of being differs from that of the nobility within the Barrier.

My House of Marl has, for generations, kept watch upon the neighboring Kingdom, tasked with repelling threats from beyond the Barrier that seek to endanger the Empire. We are a warrior lineage, and thus have long produced strong sons.

Yet for reasons unknown, the rate of female births within our family has always been low….

When Shasha was born, the men of the clan raised a chorus of shouts, so overcome with joy they wept as though at a sacred festival.

Perhaps it was because the men of this land were all broad-shouldered and bearded, making them seem fearsome. Even my own face, they said, brought tears to their eyes.

Now it is a jest that all shaved their beards at this time, out of sorrow.

Truly, a daughter is precious!

Her hair, a pale auburn like mine, was softer and thicker than that of her brothers—such a tender, lovely infant.

From the moment she was small, I taught her all I knew, all my skills. I knew she would one day be married away, and so I instilled in her this truth: the more weapons she bore, the better.

My wife was exasperated, yet my daughter took martial arts as play, treated weapons as toys, and raised her horse as a companion—showing such talent that even I felt a pang of envy. I found it amusing how she absorbed instruction as dry earth drinks water, and in my delight, I taught her too much.

By nature, she was shy, quick to hide behind her mother’s skirts. She was kind-hearted to the point of hesitating even to kill an insect.

And yet, in matters of martial skill, she displayed a steadfastness that brought tears to her eyes, yet still she practiced without faltering.

Why must this child be a girl…? I had thought it more than once, and more than twice.

At five years old, she had already mastered the foundational forms, receiving the highest license from her master—something I myself had never achieved. To compete against adults in the military disc, even defeating them at times, was an impossible talent. I grieved that she was not a boy; her brilliance was so overwhelming, I could scarcely bear it. Her elder brothers were praised as worthy heirs through exceptional talent and diligence, yet Shasha was in a class of her own.

Even so, her brothers must have felt envy toward her, yet they poured their knowledge and skill into her without reserve.

Perhaps, like me, they wished to see what lay beyond Shasha’s potential.

I loved her so dearly that I could not help but boast of her at every social gathering.

And so, challengers to her began to form a line.

Most were not my sons, and I widened my eyes in surprise. Still, I accepted their challenges, saying they would understand if they tried.

One claimed it was a test of strength. Another said he had heard that if he defeated the daughter, he would be granted favor in the Frontier County. I could not imagine my daughter losing, yet I decided to accept the challenges—knowing that learning the ways of battle would be beneficial for her as well.

We all took part in the screening. They had come to test their mettle against the House of Marle, renowned for its strength. We must not be idle… and only those worthy of her strength should stand before her.

To spare my daughter from sorrow should she fall, I gave each challenger a bracelet and placed a magical restraint upon her, whispering, “Fight with peace of mind.” She did not waver. One after another, she turned their attacks back upon them.

The bracelet held no such power, yet it had lessened the burden on their minds—so, in the end, it had served its purpose.

The daughter likely believed she had won because of the bracelet; the challenger, restrained in strength, could only accept defeat with dignity.

Later, when the daughter confessed she had been afraid, had disliked it—there, I had my moment of regret.

Yet even so, the girl had seemed joyful that day. Please, forgive me.

Her skill had improved dramatically. She mastered a technique of flexibility rather than force, dispersing her opponent with fluid motion, leaping with the spring of her body. She had developed a fighting style unlike any seen here before. In the military board games, only those from the imperial capital’s noble circles had ever matched her. In a few more years, there may be no one in my domain who could stand against her. I felt pride in such a prodigy—yet a faint fear, too.

The military board game had originally been devised to plan strategies against a hypothetical enemy state. Over time, in the remote frontier, it had evolved uniquely under complex conditions. This game was, in essence, foundational training for those who would command armies. In my domain, it was mandatory for all officers above the rank of hundred-man captain.

And this game’s other name is the General’s Play. How many generals throughout history have mastered the war chessboard—such rare talents… Even the most skilled warrior is but a single piece. What genius must the war chessboard require of those who surpass even the common soldier?

I came to understand this when my daughter was seven.

When I first heard her words, I could not believe it.

Yet every one of her predictions came true. She demonstrated it all exactly as foreseen.

She was only seven years old—yet she uncovered spies, apprehended them, and executed the necessary measures without instruction from anyone.

At that moment, I realized that for her, this was merely routine after the fact. Never had I felt such bitter regret over my daughter’s nature and the boundless potential she might yet fulfill.

If she continues on this path, she possesses the talent to become a legendary general.

In matters of military council, her insight and vision surpass even the most gifted among common men by an immeasurable degree.

That girl laid down all her weapons in the autumn of her tenth year.

When I heard it, I felt not only astonishment, but something akin to relief.

Indeed, I had always wished for her to live a safe and happy life in quiet place.

And yet, I mourned deeply the fact that I could not see the path her talent might have taken. Surely, if she had been born a son, her future would have been bright with promise…

Even so, the son of the central nobility, who had long challenged her and always lost, came to protest after she was stripped of her arms by Shasha.

We took nothing from her. It was her own choice. The family respects that. That was my reply.

“Such a waste…” he murmured.

That was my own thought as well.

And so, I decided to entrust her to him. To this man who cherished her, who lamented the hidden brilliance she had not yet revealed.

And this man—there is genuine promise in him. Though he once dismissed the noble knights within the barrier as beneath him, ever since his defeat at the hands of Shasha, his blade has grown sharper through relentless self-discipline. His constant pursuit of perfection is deeply admirable. Indeed, in just a few years, he has already grown to the point where he might one day strike me down with a single stroke.

I believed he was worthy to bear my daughter’s care.

He has drawn the attention of the imperial court as a prodigy from the frontier; an invitation to debut under imperial patronage was extended.

I suppressed the ache of separation and, at the age of eleven, sent my daughter to the capital.

I rarely journey to the heart of the realm, bound as I am to the duty of guarding this land.

Thus, it meant I would see my beloved daughter only rarely—perhaps never again.

There was sorrow, yes. But I swallowed it, turning it into pride for her growth. I had not felt such doubt when my son was young. Yet with a daughter—how strange it is.

The sons who chose the officer or knight tracks lived in the dormitories, so the townhouse existed but saw little use. Sending their daughter alone to such a place only deepened my unease. After her enrollment, she would be placed in the dormitory; until then, I would send my wife to the capital with me.

She had not had much opportunity for noble society in the remote Mahr, so this would be a good chance for her.

Yet I had failed to notice.

I had taught my daughter martial skills, but had never instructed her in the manners befitting a noble lady.

Only when my wife reminded me did I hastily arrange for a tutor. The girl, despite her youth, took great delight in the advanced military chess—a challenge even adults struggle with. I had been confident she would manage, but shortly after seeing her off, I received a letter from my wife, reprimanding me gently: everyone has their strengths and weaknesses.

Thank you for always reading.

This recollection by Shasha Papa is a bit shorter than usual.

As mentioned in the preface, pre-orders for Volume Two have now begun.

Volume Two is packed with original content, including the date with Arthur that was skipped in the web novel, and Spica’s debutante scene. Stella’s appearance is somewhat delayed in comparison…

The cover features Spica and Arthur in such a joyous, radiant moment it feels almost like the final volume. The artist captured a single scene from the debutante celebration with remarkable skill—truly, the power of illustration is astounding.

As with Volume One, the cover alone is worth a glance. I do encourage you to take a look.

Next time, we return to Shasha’s perspective, bringing you the story of her struggles in the imperial capital.

Until we meet again, in due course.

Mashiro Sato