A Song of Ice and Fire: Wrath of the Sleeping Dragon

Hello everyone. this will be the first chapter of a large translation spree I went on. I am really happy with how proficient the language model prompt script has become at translating this particular book. There were hardly any edits that I felt needed to be made which is what gave me the opportunity to translate so many chapters in a relatively short period of time.

That being said I know it is not perfect, nothing is. Weather its my process using termonology that is accurate but not in line with those used in universe, switching up character names randomly (increasingly less now now, small wins people lol), or repeating text from how the translations were processed givin limited maxiumum number of characters that can be translated I know there is room for improvement.

I'd like to be as fully transparent as possible with the community that has been slowly building around my work.

As I've said before (which I know many are tired of hearing ( ¯\_(-_-)_/¯ ) I am not a professional translator, this is a hobby for me. I try to balance my actual professional life, personal life, and this hobby to the best of my ability which may not always allow me to produce at the rates people would like me to.

Right now the things I keep in mind when choosing what to put my focus on are:

1. do people want to read this book?

2. can I source raw chapters?

3. Is it worth the time investment to do a big release for this book?

Right now the only book I have any kind of premium comitment towards is my WoW translation. I currently have three patrons that are helping to keep the lights on for all my other projects right now. The current direct support from them covers the cost of my GPT subscription and a little bit of my midjourny expense. For that I am truly grateful as it allows to me to stay motivated and explore areas of growth using these amazing tools.

While the current growth of my ability to use GPT has now enabled me to produce translated chapters for this book faster than I have before, releases are still subject to my time constraints, motivation, and the limits of GPT 4 availability to X amount of entries per 3 hours.

One of the earlierst reviews left on this book, and currently the one with the most upvotes, has left me hesistent to really commit to this book as there seems to be a falling off the rails in terms of the story stucture decisions made by the orginial author somewhere around the 300's of the chapters.

This has put me in a bit of a delema- do I commit to this book only to have interest drop dramaticlly after we hit that phase of the book, or do I gamble on it and invest heavily into translating the book to that point and see if my prompt script translations can save the day?

So, I wanted to turn the question over to the community- do you want me to make this book a more frequently released book? Are you willing to support me directly if I make advance chapters available?

If English isn't youcor first language or you just aren't comformortable writing in english for whatever reason, thats ok. Write in your native language and I will take it from there :)

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Meanwhile, on the other side.

The mercenary known as the Axeman had secretly begun to harbor thoughts of retreat. He wanted to abandon the rest of his brothers and withdraw alone.

To these mercenaries, the concepts of brotherhood and camaraderie were as fleeting as a passing laugh. They were all in this dangerous business, with their lives on the line, for the sake of gold.

No one knew how long they could survive.

It was possible that one might close their eyes tonight, never to open them again.

As a mercenary, death could come suddenly and unexpectedly. In their company, the Courage Brigade, the turnover rate was incredibly high, especially among the lower ranks.

He was considered a higher-up in the company due to his above-average skills. However, the new recruits who had just joined recently could very well end up as corpses within days after exchanging greetings.

Life and death were all too familiar to them.

Life was enjoying themselves with women, venting, or striving to leave behind offspring.

Death meant lying carelessly on the ground, indifferent to whether they ended up in the kingdom of the Seven Gods, the Old Gods, or some other deity like the Black Goat, R'hllor the Lord of Light, or even the Weeping Lady from his hometown of Lys. They would serve as cattle, horses, or dogs, if that's what it took.

But no one had ever returned from the dead. Who knew if they would ever meet these gods after death?

Even when they made a fortune, they didn't know whom to entrust it to, so they spent it recklessly, living in the moment.

So, these people had no qualms about betraying their comrades when the situation turned dire. Stabbing someone in the back was not a new experience for them.

At this moment.

The mercenary carefully made his way through the Drum Tower, one hand gripping his ax.

In his other hand, he held a shield he had taken from a dead guard. He would no longer underestimate Viserys due to the prince's young age.

"This little thing…"

The mercenary's mind raced as he glanced around. The mission to kill the young prince had gone awry, and they had lost two of their own in the process.

He didn't know how things were going on the other side, but the entire castle seemed to have awakened. Servants and guards were roused from their sleep.

Even if they managed to kill Queen Rhaella, escaping would be difficult.

"Enough."

"Don't blame me. I'll retreat first."

The mercenary gritted his teeth and finally made up his mind to abandon the others and withdraw.

No amount of gold from King Robert could compare to the value of staying alive. He didn't want to earn money without the chance to spend it.

The tall man touched the rope at his waist and then climbed onto the stone window. He planned to use the rope to escape the castle once more, find their boat, and leave Dragonstone.

The man looked around, making sure no one was nearby, before finally letting his guard down.

He had no idea where Viserys had fled to. The young prince was fast, and he had lost track of him long ago.

Click—

...

The sellsword then anchored his grappling hook onto the wall, tugging it with force to ensure the rope was secure.

With his battleaxe and shield strapped to his back, he cautiously scanned the surroundings one more time before grasping the rope and slipping out of the castle. His body disappeared into the darkness.

Swish—

As the rope continued to descend, the sellsword skillfully slid down.

"I've escaped," he breathed a sigh of relief.

Yet, he felt no guilt. The death of others had nothing to do with him; knowing he could escape was enough.

However, as he slid halfway down, something unnerving happened.

He suddenly felt the rope shake, but it wasn't from his own movements. Another force was at play.

"Hmm?"

The war-painted man hesitated, then looked up to see a small figure in the window he had just crawled out of.

Backlit, the figure's face and expression were indiscernible.

Yet, Landon recognized it as Viserys, the young prince he had been chasing.

"Damn it!" he thought, realizing the gravity of his situation.

"No..."

His muscular arms clenched the rope, his throat tightening as he swallowed hard.

He didn't want to die.

In truth, no one wished for death if they could live.

But Landon, a moderately renowned sellsword in the disputed lands, was genuinely panicked.

Despite earning the title "Bloody Hand from Lys" for his ruthlessness and even killing ten slaves in single combat at the arena to great acclaim, his bravery couldn't save him now.

He glanced down at the cliff beneath the castle walls, but only darkness met his gaze. It seemed like a gaping maw waiting to swallow him whole, leaving nothing behind.

...

Swish—

Waves relentlessly battered the jagged rocks below.

The war at sea seemed to be nearing its end.

The Greenstone fleet's massive assault wasn't meant to conquer Dragonstone in one fell swoop.

Lord Redwyne had no choice but to follow the king's orders, yet he didn't want his forces to suffer significant losses.

After all, the Greenstone fleet was the Redwyne family's private property; he would grieve for every lost ship and fallen soldier.

So, after a simple probing attack, Lord Redwyne ordered his fleet to withdraw from the battlefield.

The Dragonstone fleet's commander understood the situation; without Westeros's support, they were running out of resources. They didn't pursue the retreating Greenstone fleet, allowing them to leave the battlefield in an orderly manner.

However, at this moment,

No one could understand the terror felt by the sellsword, hanging midair, unable to advance or retreat.

"I... I don't want to die..."

Dragonstone castle stood on a cliff by the sea, and he hadn't even descended halfway. At least twenty yards remained below.

If he fell from here, there would be no chance of survival; he'd be smashed to pieces on the rocky beach below.

"Your Grace, please forgive my transgressions."

"I..."

Panicked, the sellsword desperately clung to the rope, trying to plead for mercy from Viserys. But when he opened his mouth, he couldn't find the words, his voice carried away by the wind.

Viserys stood at the stone window, his gaze calm as he watched the trapped sellsword.

He took a deep breath,

Then drew his short sword, placing it on the rope, and with resolve, he slashed it.