ゴールドとブルー
Alongside the knights of Gwyn, there were also the Lord's Blades. These women were of steely nerves and guile cunning: where the knights were the sword and shield of Lordran, the Blades were the hidden knife. And first among these redoubtable women was the Wasp Knight, Ciaran.
To tell the truth, there is little I can say for certain of the Wasp; few knew much about any of the Lord's Blades, much less Lord Gwyn's most favored. Some say she was as cold as the winter snows, but who can say for sure? For as little as Artorias spoke, Ciaran said even less. Others say she was as beautiful as the silver moon itself, but who could be certain? For few have seen her face beneath her porcelain mask. Rumors and whispers clung to the Wasp Knight like a shadow, and shadows were all that was seen of the Lord's sharpest Blade.
Only one thing was truly known; among the Four Knights, the blade-work of the Wasp was the finest. Oh, I see the surprise on your face, and blame you not for it, for how could the Lion, the Wolf, and the Hawk be so outdone? But I tell you the truth. Ornstein was immaculate with his lance, and Artorias unmatched with the blade, and no marksman could surpass Gough with a bow...but Ciaran? I remember one summer day, long ago, when she demonstrated her mastery of arms for all the knights of Anor Londo. No crude hacks and chops for the Wasp Knight—nay, she was at once a painter and a dancer. With a golden brush in one hand and a silver brush in the other, with the flesh of her foes as her canvas and the blood of her enemies as her paint, she danced a sublime dance of death. They say her foes wept in rapture even as she cut them to pieces.
But I ramble. Here is a tale I heard once, when I was but a young squire:
In the old days, soon after the beginning of the Age of Fire, when stone and fog had given way to light and fire, there were some who rejected the rightful authority of Gwyn and the other Lords of Flame and Death. As blasphemous as these rebels were, though, they had fought alongside Lord Gwyn against the Everlasting Dragons, and their might was great—so great that Lord Gwyn laid siege to them for ten years, and still their walls resisted him.
On the eve of the eleventh year of that great siege, it is said that he called his sharpest Blade to him, whispered into her ear a command, and sent her away. The next morning, when the knights of Gwyn took up their arms and charged the walls once more, they found that only corpses were manning them, each killed by poison or blade. Ten-thousand hardened warriors had held the city; ten-thousand dead filled the streets and battlements when it fell. The Lord of Sunlight honored his Blade with a ring, and granted her a boon; Ciaran immediately asked that she be granted a white mask of soft porcelain, and Lord Gwyn acquiesced.
I tell you, many vied for this knight's hand. I thought about it once, myself, though that was when I was foolish young man, thinking more with my heart than with my head! But she spurned all suitors, no matter their stature or skill at arms. Some whispered that there was indeed one man in heart...but if such a man existed, it is for certain that he was admired from afar, for Ciaran was never once seen in the arms of a lover.
What happened to this mysterious knight? No one knows, and that is of little surprise. She disappeared completely soon after the great Artorias fell after his victory over the Abyss, but nothing else is known. Some say she went to wretched Oolacile, as Artorias and Gough did. Others say she went and hid herself, and faded into the ages. Who knows? Perhaps no one will. But take warning, my boy, and pursue not the Wasp! For they say that she had little love for humans, as she saw them as greedy, petty creatures.
