Hmm... hmm… What time is it? Hmm Hmm… Yesterday, I had this weird dream where I went to search for an obelisk and almost died. Yeah, that was unusual, and even more strange were the people and Tharja's looks. I mean I understand their reaction, who in their right mind would decide me of all people to become a dark mage?
Yes, I am Tharja's assistant, and more often than not most assistants tend to become dark mages themselves. But to me, a foreigner who wants to go home and never return to this forsaken land, to become an official practitioner of the dark art? Please, don't make me laugh.
Rhythmical steps dominate the silent landscape, while the gentle sizzle of torches makes their little melody in the background. People are walking again. Must be breakfast… this will be just another beaten down day of pure nothingness while I prepare nothing despite my utter contempt and realization if I do make a plan, I will probably die. But please, just for today, let me rest for a bit.
Grimleal and their sects, the coming war, Henry's weird machinations, Tharja's experimentation on my mind and body, and Robin, or in this case Reflet, being on the Plegian side, all of this can wait. I will waste my day as I was in all others: I will read so many things I will forget what I am supposed to be doing. Maybe today I will entertain myself with some story about the relationship of Russian half-brothers of the same father, maybe the existentialist adventure of some random guy on french Argelia, or maybe the words of the author-defunct, that snark guy.
I'm still grouchy when I get up from bed, with my eyes threatening to close at every single moment. It's a mild annoyance at worst though, the cold sensation of the ground waking me up a little. Well, let's see what I have in that weird wardrobe of mine. Opening the cracky door, dust accumulated from not being used comes out, despite the lovely content, I barely register the grains spreading through the air and ignore it because it's just dust, who cares about dust?
Anyways, greeting inside me is the dagger without an owner, what a dramatic name for such an unimportant piece of weapon. Picking up the blade, I go on and stab in the air, just little slashes in the air. Oh yeah, stab, stab, stab… Look at me, the assassin, I am going to murder all sense of seriousness right now. Of course, it is unimportant, why would I lie about the importance of this little piece of metal? what do I have to gain by doing such actions?
Anyways, I return the darn thing back to where it belongs, the dusted confines of this sole empty wardrobe that, for some reason, I never used. Just let it soak in the fresh dungeon's air, I have better things to do. I walk toward my desk, a small unnoticeable cobble in the ground appears, I wonder what the thing will do to me. I stumble on the little rock and almost hit my face flat under the hard stones of my lovely room. Oops, I shouldn't be so cocky against the eldritch powers of the floor.
Who cares I have better things to do than reminisce about the metaphysical and physical prowess of a rock located in the room.
I go towards my desk and avoid my deadly enemy, the oh so powerful stone pebble. Saying its name is already giving me shivers.
Oh, my lovable rustic desk where it's always messy no matter what I do, the papers, the ink, the times I am not able to read, all thrown out as if it is a battlefield. Scratches all over the wooden foundation, with some cloth to cover the damages. I ready myself to sit on the uncomfortable chair and upon sitting, the coldness of my seat sends shocks to me and wakes me up even though it is for a bit.
The journal was left untouched, thrown away. The page still flipped in an empty one, demanding I write something on it. I wonder why I didn't write yesterday? Whatever, I will write later, it is not like I am running on a limited time or anything like that.
Delusions after delusions. Sentences barely connect and also don't make a lot of sense, just another symptom of being drunk with sleepiness. Well, I don't care either way. I can fight this little bastard back as I have been doing since I existed. Wait, what am I supposed to be doing?
Oh, yeah, the tomes. I never talked about those. One thing I wonder is how these dark mages can summon these freaking spells out of nowhere. Yeah, there are the stupid instructions written down on the thing because of course there is a need to spell out the spell to any doofus who wants to use it. But you are also supposed to know how it's going to be like, what effects it will have. I tried a while back, It seems I don't have enough "imagination" to do spells.
Let me catch the one entry in the journal about this kind of stuff. Oh here it is:
7/27/20- MINHAS INÚMERAS TENTATIVAS DE FAZER MAGIA NEGRA
"If you have been reading this journal's logs, you must have realized since the first log I have been trying to do some spells, and I failed at every single one of them.
In my preparations to go into the capital, an instructor of the dark arts was assigned to me, and what at first was supposed to be a very successful attempt resulted in nothing and I've returned to stack zero.
I realized one thing: I don't think I have the magical potential to do the spells. In comparison, Tharja's whole life is dedicated to studying dark magic, and it doesn't help that her entire family knows magic.
It is so unfair, but as they say, unfairness is a part of life we all have to deal with somewhat. Still, my experience is very frustrating nonetheless, especially when all your attempts become failures, heck I had some meltdowns yet again because of that. Still, I am lucky nobody saw. That nobody needs to know that.
Hope when I get to the capital my situation and relationship with dark magic become a little better. Still, I am going to be Tharja's retainer in there, hoping she isn't as crazy as the game presents.
And I still have to find whether Henry's talks about dark magic being addictive are true or not. Oh well, also-'' Blah, blah, blah, I never thought I would be so annoying, I talk way too much. I look at my desk and I find a book with a black cover.
Oh, there is a book that I don't recognize. Has somebody left it in here? Nobody comes here, at least none that I know. Well if this is the case, it will be a good idea to start turning the lock on the other side. Since it is already here and the owner seemingly didn't waste their time on getting back, might as well open it.
On the first page, a black palm painted into the print, littles splash of dark tint surrounding it, a sloppy feel into the whole composition created, no doubts, by some forced action. All the pages after it is all blanked out, white as milk as the smell of a new book comes to mind. I place my palm above it, because why not? It fits the contours of my hand one to one. Wait, why is there some elegant clothing, this black cloth with golden and purple markings…
Vai tomar no cú!
It seems things did go as I thought they wouldn't! Calm down, calm down! This is a prank, a really bad one at that, but this isn't possible in any way.! I didn't even think that I had the potential for magic or something weird like that, Just… Just… huh.. huh.
Nope, nope, I am not touching or getting near this "book" any time soon. You know what? I am not even going out of this freaking room today. It's better not to because this is another bad dream, a really bad dream, none of this real! Right! Right?!
Go to your comfy bed, this isn't your day, and go back to some weird reality, because what is happening isn't happening at all, after dreams all tricks, am I right? With a sense of urgency, I get up from the chair and all fall back on my bed. Go on, sleepiness, do your work, just let me wake up somewhere that isn't like this, please, or let me forget about all of this.
Minutes after minutes pass by, as my eyes don't even blink once in the brief period stuck in the bed, the memories of the book coming back again. Of course, it isn't. This just another instance of your life screwing you over and over, again and again.
It takes all my willpower to not curse life itself for bringing another mess to resolve. Since I had entered my foot in this hellish place, all my life has amounted to problems after problems, because why not?!
Slow down, ranting will not solve any of our problems, accept you are a dark mage right now, and look at the bright side, people aren't as likely to look at you annoyed as they were before...right?
Despite all this, you know this torment will not end soon. There will be war, of course, you shouldn't be worrying about this kind of stuff, focus on the small parts first then on the bigger picture. Ok, let's go, imagine the tome doesn't exist at all, and it is only a figment of your imagination, and ignore it for the time being.
Lifting myself, I take small steps. I don't want to stumble again, after all. And again, I go back to the same position upon the uncomfortable wooden chair and pick up a random piece of the paper on the battlefield called the desk. Wait, why can't I see anything? Oh, of course, you idiot, you forgot to light the candle, how the hell are you going to write without light? Hush, just breathe, yeah one two three four, inhale and exhale. OK, I can go now.
Picking the candle, I go to one of the inextinguishable torches of the place. One thing I wonder is 'how the heck do they continue to shine after months of usage?' Oh yeah, must be dark magic… or anima magic for that matter. Anyways, it isn't like the flame will kill me in any capacity.
Going into this ridiculous short back and forth, I must be an idiot to some extent. Hell, I always forget one thing. Regardless, I finally sit my butt on this hellish chair. Without further ado, I prepare my pencil and… hmmm, what will I write?
Oh yeah, no no no, this wouldn't work in anyways, what could I possibly write about? Talking about my sentiments is way too selfish and besides. What do I writeeeeeeee? My eyes gaze at the black cover of the book. Oh no, you are nothing thinking this isn't you, please. You know what? I don't care anymore, let's do it.
Na imensidão vazia de páginas/ In the vasteness empty with pages
no santo sepulcro de almas/ in the saint tomb of soul
onde o desencanto te encontras/ where the disenchantment founds
e a ignóbil escuridão te levantarás/ and ignoble darkess will lift you
No passo no caminho a lugar algum/ in the step to nowhere
o véu e a seda te acometeras/ the veil and silk will posess you
como no sol que trazes más noticias/ like the sun who brings bad news
seu destinado não selado a um/ your destiny not determined by one
No escárnio nada se sabe/ in the scorn nothing knows
diluído pairando sobre a mente / diluted hovering above the mind
No nulo corpo de desdém/ in the null corpse of disdain
O que o livro trazes?/ what the book brings?
Há não ser no seu branco/ with not his whiteness
os frutos de outonos fulminantes/ the fruits of fulminant falls
Here it is done. Hmmm. That was bad, really bad. What the heck does any of this even mean? It's only a bunch of edgy nonsense. And that's not even beginning on the metrics of this disorder. I am no Bilac, or Dante, or any of these poets for that matter. This is stuff you would find in a post of an edgy teen who had nothing better to do.
Well, what do I do now? Everything I did until right now was wasted on a bunch of wasted words, I will never get the time lost on this task back again. After all, this poem is a bunch of lazily thrown around the filler to make up for a lack of intelligence and understanding of this world. I wonder who would be the person to do this?
My eyes turn again to the dark cover of the tome, my restriction forbidding to even acknowledge it is existent, made even more attractive. I can't stop looking at it. The cover tempting me into recognizing its existence. What do I do, what do I do? Oh, maybe if I put a name on the thing, I will focus less on it, and redraw my focus on important matters instead. Here I go.
What name shall this personal tome be given? Something epic? Of the likes of Pandora's tome, or Hades… or something way less greek? Like lunacy or- I don't know. I was never good at naming anything, as such there is noth-
Someone knocks at the door, The bang capturing my attention, and disrupting the whole thought process. I hate and love you, oh unkindly stranger who bangs at my door. Hope you have nothing in your hands capable of killing me. You know the drill at this point. I pick up the book and I open the door.
Oh, it's Tharja…
"What do you want Tharja?" I say with the emotion of a rock, please just don't be another I need a lab rat for the new edgy hex I am trying, let's go now.
"The hex isn't going to test itself." She speaks with the indifference of someone seeing an ant; Oh, so you decide to cut straight to the chase? At least you are honest. But what the hell happened with our agreement of six-day rest and one-day work? Is it meaningless now? Don't tell me she decided to throw out of the window our little agreement.
"Ok,'' I don't even contain my sigh, letting my utter disappointment to the whole situation audible. Tharja just ignores it, as she always does and goes towards her room. She doesn't even need to utter a single word. I follow her as if I am a loyal dog to her owner, my head lowered, as I let my mind wander into the realm of nonthinking.
The room didn't change for a bit, well besides the smell, which isn't so putrid anymore, it's still the same old dark place, the only difference yesterday is the putrid feeling comes from, and not from the cauldron this time.
I indulge her a little bit and ask a question, "So Tharja, I am a dark mage now, right? So…I will be taught spells, hexes or something similar?" a part of me hopes.
"There is nothing saying that you would stop being my assistant, you only became a dark mage, that's it '' and she disregarded my existence for a bit, and went on to search the curse for today's experiment. Perplexed, I let myself fall upon her bed, and just let her answer marinate upon my head.
It was all for nothing, that was it. Only now do I carry some new status which holds some prestige, but it still is the same as before. I'm still her lab rat, that was it, nada de novo no front. How much I could have avoided all that headache from earlier if I would have known it only amounted to a bunch of new clothes and an awful smell to boot. I think I had already way too much headache for this lifetime,
"All that madness from the ritual was for nothing? All of these robes meant nothing, my blood and palm were wasted in a stupid tome, I have wasted an entire day for nothing, only a title without any real meaning behind it?" And it dawned upon me: what you have muttered, you idiot?
She doesn't reply to my question, but her face strains into a quiet scrawl. She stops ignoring my complaints about the whole ordeal when she turns her head. Her emotionless eyes become feral, their gazes penetrating my soul. I'm the lamb and she is the wolf, and one more slip and she will eat me without any remorse, a prey that spoke way too much. The orbs saying if I said this whole thing was a worthless ritual without meaning one more time, I would taste hell on earth.
I shut my mouth, as I try to contain my trembling body, the images of what comes next being a vivid painting of the empty canvas of mind, the worst of punishment being reserved to me: a hex that blinds the eye and destroys the skin, the necrotic skin itching and the curse forcing me to scratch without any moment to stop, or the one where the sensation of the time passed is still your conscious thought in real-time, hmmm… I cringe even thinking from that hell. Calm down man, you need to be strong, you need to be strong. I stop my trembling before Tharja can continue to watch my stupid state. You had done many things like this, a single insult is not going to make a curse worse, right?
I return my usual state of indifference, why should I care about things that never change. Tharja goes on and finds the curse she wants to do. She mutters an insociable word. Instead of my perception of language being altered, the world blurs, as if it is water, my vision drowns in a world, where sharp distortion takes hold, wobbly forms transform in my travels. I do not raise myself up for an obvious reason, I am not that dumb. But then, out of nowhere my arms and legs move out without my own volition. A futile attempt of my brain trying to stop them from moving around and be stuck in one place. Tharja, you bastard. I shouldn't have spoken, every time I speak I somehow get in trouble. I wonder why.
At every step taken, nausea takes its hold on my body, my legs feel more like a bunch of sewn together stick which somehow is capable of holding my body, the taste of bile coming at every second, constant enough to notice, but not enough to spill out my insides, the world makes goes round, the blurriness only makes it worse, at this point, I can't tell the difference between any of the shapes. Geometric patterns that amount to nothing. A pebble in the ground makes my face meet the ground.
Bam, the hard ground rings through my ears, the waves destroying any remnants of my senses. The sounds are one, while the pain vibrates through my nose, drinking a little bit of my mind, the confusion scrambles my brains out. I feel more dizzy and confused than a baby without their mother in the middle of the night. I try to fight back my tears, I am a confused child really, but I must persevere somehow. In reality, I am more of a pitiful corpse of a man in the ground, holding against the whites of my body to moan or cry away, This is life, after all...
Out of nowhere, the sensation stopped, the sharp reality turning back to me. The sudden return assaulting my brains as it tries to compute the information of the world yet again. I can only breathe as the dull darkness greets me yet again. I thank Tharja. This isn't the worst session I had to partake. I keep looking around my body just tired because of the curse. The hard feeling of the ground is somewhat comfortable. At least I can waste my day on this ground and nobody will care. Besides, of course, my master on the other side of the room.
A hand brings a concoction out of the ground, She brings the potion out my mouth and liquid drips out of my mouth, revitalizing me a little. That is until I pick myself up with my hand and drink all the contents. Yuck… the infamous taste of Vulnerary spreads to my poor little tongue, just making me want to puke all that pungent bitterness away. It feels even worse than expired medicine. Cursiottoy, some say the herbal content of it is why it's so good, the other camp says that the awful taste is why it is so effective. I agree with the latter. Holy hell, I cannot wait for the aftertaste that lasts an entire afternoon, I hope the water is going to ease it for a bit.
Well, I can just lay on the ground for the remainder of my entire life, after it isn't very productive for my goals, despite being a very attractive deal, it's a shame the court isn't a very sympathetic place for just being lazy. I don't want to keep wasting my days away. Why the clock must keep ticking on...
Whatever just get up and get over it.
I get up, the pain and all the dizziness of the hex gone away as if it was never there, to begin with. I do some rather basic stretches, costuming my body to the sensation of the world, well since I don't have many things to do, and since it appears our little agreement is broken for the foreseeable future, well, I might as well go back to my room, and devise some strategy, I guess. I wonder if I am capable of doing some stuff with the tomes, at least this time they won't collect dust as the other times.
I walk through the door as I always have for the past...six or seven months, I don't know anymore. I realize now, the days are the same thing as they've ever been with Tharja: go back to the dungeon, see if someone wants to kill you, sleep and repeat all over again and again. When I have lost so much control of my life to this routine? Brush away these thoughts, they aren't worth your attention, go on as always has to be, after all, does life change even for a single bit? Ok, let's see the saffr-
"Wait" She states imperatively and I stop as the "loyal" servant that I am. Holy hell, when people stop me from going to my room…
And where is your whole I am antisocial Shtick Tharja? You really forgot your whole agreement, didn't you?
"Yes?" Let's see what is going on within her mind then.
"There are a few things I would like to say" ok, then say them.
"Go on" I respond without any care, my face not changing at all, the good old poker face reigning supreme.
"Never insult our arts again. You know the consequences really well, the whole ritual has a reason Dark magic works on reason. Can you not see that you should be more patient? Not everyone can or should be capable of studying it," she says while giving a look which could kill, her eyes aiming at me with a distaste that rivaled when we first met, the aura capable of cowering the fearless of men.
"Hmmm, something more?" I just keep my face like one of rock, forever unchanging. You can not control her reaction, control yourself, remember the story of the philosopher-slave and you will be fine.
"Be patient, and it shall reward you, you might not be born in this world or have had any learning on magic, but you have potential, wasted potential, but potential nonetheless."
I have to practice, in other words.
"So, in other words, I shall be your apprentice then?" I don't have any other option in my hands.
"That we will see," she answers. I don't think she knows how to teach someone.
"Anything else?"
"Are the rumors about the vessel true or not?" Here we go, I saw that a mile away.
"Yes, they are true. I met her" It's better, to be honest, I don't think lying will get me anywhere now;
"Then, how is she like them?" A hint of jealous dripping from the eye, you know I didn't choose this right.
"Well, from that one time I've met her, she seems to be a good person, although she is quite sassy. She seemed to be curious about my origins. I wonder if she wants to explore the world, and that was it, nothing more."
I will not say that it was during the day of lamentation. Knowing how she is, I would probably die by telling her that.
"Is there something more to it?" she asks immediately after I give my answer, her excitement dripping from her eyes, betraying her slasher face at the moment.
"Sadly, that is all I could say to her, and no, I don't know what she likes or what type of person she's into."
She isn't satisfied with my rather laconic answer, but she acquiesces, maybe she will realize by now that I don't have the answer she wants so much.
"Is there somewhere I can go to see her?"
Oh no, Stalker Tharja inbound. Repeat Stalker Tharja inbound.
"I don't know, Master," she flinches at the word, "The only time I've met her was in the library. Besides that, I didn't meet her anywhere else. Also, her name is Reflet if you want to know."
A little grin arises on her pale face. She doesn't even try to hide her intentions, her imagination is filled with interactions with the vessel. Good luck Robin - sorry, Reflet - she will somehow find where you sleep. That is if Validar allows her to enter. And if that happens don't ask me about this, I am too tired for interrogations.
"Good, good, I cannot wait for our meeting" She mutters to herself and ignores my presence. Yep, the stalker we know is finally a reality.
"I will be going," and I leave her to her own devices. I don't want to see her stalkerish moments, I already dealt with her normal phase, I don't need to see another one, nor do I have the energy to keep up with this game.
Yeah, game. Remember that time where this was just a simple video game? Me neither. That's all I needed to remember that somehow this was related to the game. At least, I avoided death for today…
I spent the rest of my day locked in the little dungeon of mine, doing nothing. I didn't eat any meals today. After all the events happening, hunger is the least of my concerns. I didn't have the patience to read my books or to read anything at all. In mind, I just focused on the fact that now I am a useless dark mage, emphasis on useless more than anything. All in all, just another day.
As I get ready for my sleep, I check everything to see if everyone stepped their foot on this sacred place. Good, nobody seemed to go in this safe haven. I can sleep in peace.
What a boring day. Well, tomorrow is going to be like this, no doubt.
A bang on the door spoke me out. Who the heck bangs the door when everyone is sleeping? I pick up the dagger and open the door, readying it for the attack.
I hear feminine giggles on the other side. A hooded figure with a smile on her face holds a letter in her hands, the playfulness of the act revealing to me who the person is. I put down the dagger and with the grouchiness of a person who drank the wonderful cocktail that is sleepiness, I hastily pick up the latter and give the stranger a goodbye and she goes back to the darkness permeating the hallway.
I put the blade back in place and go to my desk and read the letter.
Hello
I liked our conversation before. Despite my father's objections, I like knowing these different worlds besides mine. It gets boring after a while of receiving the same old tired information. It would be way more productive to learn a little bit of the other world, even with passing details. Thereby, I invite you to have another conversation, please bring something more.
That last tale was very fun, but you said it was very old. I wonder if there is something more modern in your library? I will see it. We will meet this Wednesday at the library.
Hope you will be there
Reflet Fell
Ok, let's see what you are up to? Besides, why does the Fell have a foreign name and not an Arabized one? I don't know this, but, well, it's a Fire Emblem world, so why should I question it? After all, they named a kingdom Crimea for crying out loud. Whatever. I put the letter above my desk and I go to sleep, and pleasant dreams invade me.
And this was the fifth chapter of Detachment. Hope it was better than the last one. I thank Cavik and Sentinel951 for beta reading this chapter. I want to thank everyone who read this fic, when I see this amount of people reading my stuff from around the globe I don't believe at all, I still don't believe. I also participate in a discord server, here is the link: discord .gg/9XG3U7a
juste leave me alone: I hope this chapter was better in the aspect you said. Balancing this kind of stuff isn't easy, and I don't think I got right this time. Hope you liked this chapter.