The following days weren't special. The week passed in mechanical sloth with the only activities I kept doing being writing, staying in my bed, studying, and honing my skills in the Plegian language. From these activities I can guarantee you, 90% of my time was passed staring at the ceiling, with me bored out of mind.

In these six days, Tharja and I never dared meet each other, with both us keeping different routines to guarantee our non-meetings. When I saw her face or silhouette in a certain place, I would go back to my room and wait, until I heard her steps and open her door to the room, and then go do something outside. Let's just say that grieving because of the supposed "death" of someone is not a very fun thing. Sadly, we will have to meet again tomorrow for another session of being a lab rat.

I also kept trying to read the book known as The Rites, and some other complex theological treaties that in normal circumstances would never bother to read it, but these treaties were a gift from the family, and you don't say no to our boss, not especially, when my reputation in jeopardy in the court. Being branded as a "heretic" every time I left the room is annoying.

Besides this small inconvenience, the thing that troubles me the most is trying to decipher what the rites are trying to say. The only rite I understand is the simplest and the bluntest of all: "You shall honor the end, as the great man had said.". Real subtle, but who is this great man? I don't know, and passages of the book kept mentioning the person in question.

"Look down at the sky, praise the stars and their connections, the mixing of pure and impure, the sand and water, the end of all things and begin of all thing as one, separable of each other as it ought to, the great man said"

What?

Writing is my way to keep my sanity in check, experiences being written down into the journal, as to not forget them. The name "journal" is a misnomer, it's more of a bunch of scribbled notes, gnawed and mud-colored papers, put in random order. The only real indication of when it was written the date put at the beginning with a title.

I pick up and flip through the pages until I find the first note, it goes as follows:

7/2/20 - MEU PRIMEIRO TEXTO APÓS MUITO TEMPO

I finally got myself a piece of paper to write something on. While I have my trusted bag by my side, I sadly didn't bring a pencil, pen, or a notebook to write; only books, which I pretend to consume, while not knowing how to speak Plegian.

To anyone who's reading this, something very improbable knowing nobody here knows Portuguese or English; my days have been mostly fine. Fatimid promptly accepted me once the Berber-like merchant talked with them.

While I am still a little bit skeptical of them at the moment, living with the clan wasn't as crazy as expected. While I found out this is the world of Fire Emblem Awakening, because of Tharja, I still haven't found out what timeline it is. It is the bad one or is it the one where Robin has amnesia? Probably the latter, I doubt the former, but you never know.

I've become their servant. Everyone here has their personal room, which I am very much glad to have as well. Nobody has to witness my weirdness. Also, I can be alone with my thoughts in my free time, always a good thing.

They know I am a foreigner and, despite this, they don't treat me very differently. I've come to know a little bit about Plegian. It is a form of Arabic, from what I have learned so far. Their scripts are similar, but there are a lot of guttural sounds to the Plegian language. Perhaps that is a bit presumptuous of me since I've never spoken Arabic before in my life. But when I go back, I hope this will help me learn the Semitic languages.

They even taught me a little dark magic on top! Well, it was interesting, they approached the subject as if it was science rather than a magic system, but if I think about it, yeah, this is this world's science. I remember one of the guys. I think his name was Ali, gave me the tome Flux. I tried to recite a part of it, only to have a tiny ball emerge, and then suddenly disappear. He became so pissed off, saying something along these lines:

"-you Donkey! You have to understand the text and then practice in a dark place before you can even begin thinking about trying alone."

Besides this bad memory, until now, there have only been good memories. But I can't help myself. I miss home way too much. Which is a funny sentiment on my part because I really hated for the most part, but now I can feel how much I've missed that time, playing some music, reading whatever I wanted, having someone to relate to, being able to practice language, and so many other things.

But despite all of this, I feel I can move forward and hope, just for a little bit. I've been assigned to Tharja, who is creepy as hell, but I hope I can connect to her somewhat, more a wish than anything.

I think in reality, I want to latch on to someone familiar to me, even if she knows nothing about me. Still have to see if it's going to be a hurdle when it comes to surviving her obsession with Robin, ( which I hope will appear later). This is if such an obsession exists at all... I also hope that while I'm in the capital, I can find a way home. I don't know how the future will progress, but the only thing I can maintain is my optimism in these uncertain times.

How naive I was. Poor, poor old me; you didn't know what you were getting into. How fast the world moves on. It appears as if it was eons ago when I lived in a comfy apartment with all modern amenities, instead of this suffocating cramped room.

Also, for the first time in months, I met Ibrahim in person. He wasn't sporting any confusion. In fact, he appeared relaxed, seeing me as another friend, asking how life was going, and if I was happy being there and being Tharja's retainer. The very dishonest answer was my reply, a fake smile baring my teeth and eyes averting his gaze to hide my true dissatisfaction with the whole situation. Saying to him situations that never happened and how ever-growing my "friendship" with his daughter was. He only smiled and ignored me at the end of our conversation, and a few days later he went back to his land.

For the foreseeable future, I am chained in this palace, dutifully awaiting for war and boredom to become my next new comrades. The land will be the canvas of this new painting, the blood of these people, the ink, and me the small detail in the larger picture. Just one thing for specialists to study and forget as soon as it is not important. Yes, ladies and gentlemen; welcome to the new "normal".

A new plan will have to be made if I want to escape this madness and be forgotten elsewhere. What can I do? The lazy week has made my mind dry as the Sahara desert Almost nothing flourished, except for the few story ideas here and there. Nothing progressed, and everything became another footnote in a series of footnotes.

As much as I dislike this single idea, it keeps coming back from the back of my mind. Forgotten as many others, when the first plan was made and all my hopes and dreams came to it. Sadly, I don't see any other option, if I wanted to survive and get back home. This idea is very simple, I will have to become "Plegian". I have to embrace their culture, to not be seen by them as an outsider.

No more lip service can be paid. I have to understand them in their own nature. Their rites, their faith, their costumes, their life; I must know it all. I will be hidden, and become another one in the crowd of a thousand people. Just one word in the history books, and at worst, a footnote. That one retainer that nobody remembers, not even their names or their life. When the times come and the war is no more and peace reigns on earth, missing I will be and I will return to my homeland.

And yet, there still is a problem. Where to start this whole thing? Despite my months here, how much do I already know, and so therefore I don't need to study? Should I start with religion and go from there? Relearn their history and fill my crumbley knowledge? Or do I learn some proper etiquette? Where… where…

Of course! Why didn't I think of this before? Going to the old house of knowledge, capable of holding every scrap of information available in this time period, the library. As much as I want to keep reading my books, that won't lead me much further here. Especially, when nobody knows anything from the western canon, nor does anybody wants to know anything about another country.

I get up from bed, despite loving this beautiful mattress and bed. There is no time to waste. There was never any time to waste. I dress myself up and open the door. One small little step for me, one big leap for my survivability.

The hallways give me one farewell gift before my workday strikes me again. What graces me from the other side are sizzling sounds of torches and the windy breath of an empty corridor. Not a single soul or any small talk could be heard. even the guards, whose jobs are to guard the place, are not here.

For the whole duration of my walk, no one appears. My steps resonate throughout the "journey", the only comrades I have are the statues and the symbols around me, eyeing me while keeping their static nature intact. Even the main hall leads to no one, the massive stairs without a king, leaving me to march alone in this world.

After the peaceful stroll in the empty palace, I find the doors leading to the library, a statue of a man with a scroll in his hand reading attentively to its contents sits beside it. To call these wooden gates with the mark of the Grima etched a door, would be to call a 2-meter tall person a small person. I also wonder why they splatter this symbol every time it is possible. It would be like putting the cross on every single door humanly possible. I dismissed the thought and go to open the door

With the little force, I can muster from my scrawny body, I push it hard. The door creaks, and I use the friction of the floor going against my foot to force my way in. My arms get tired from the action, straining against the powerful adversary. It was almost like suction. The gates did not budge at any moment, despite all my strength. But in the end, they complied, and let me in to survey its contents.

There was no one in the library, not even the librarian, as if it was abandoned, something not true. The air was clean, only filled with the pleasant smells of papers and ink, to make even the most bookworm faint at such paradise in front of him. Layers and layers of shelves and bookcases went on seemingly ad infinitum, each filled with scrolls, tomes and books, all placed by types, and by alphabetical order. There is even a second floor which I could not see, but it is there. And the only sounds I could hear were of my own strained breath after lifting the doors

In all honesty, even If I hate staying in a foreign land for such a long time without my consent, I cannot fault any library, even If I hated the nation, or in this case, the person who owns this place. I doubt Gangrel would even go there. He seems like the guy who would say he is superior to books in every way possible, even without reading one. I also doubt he is capable of reading anything. His background of living in slums doesn't help at all, but I will never know if this is the case or not until I meet him. In my projections, my possibility of meeting with him is none, and my wish to speak to him is non-existent.

I walked into the library. A deafening silence dominated the room. The only sound made was the clacking of footsteps going against the tough wood beneath my feet. My only companion, my rested breath, which recomposed after a while. At every step the feeling of being watched increased tenfold. I turned my head. The shadows and the air gaze at me, nobody follows.

"Hello, is anyone here?"

No one replies. Only the fire of the candles resonated, and nothing else.

"I see, I am the only one here, Maravilha" I mutter to myself, I could get all the library for myself for the day, and nobody would come to speak with me. It would only be my thoughts and me, what a comforting day.

With all out of this out of the way, I go to random shelves and search for anything remotely readable, cultural, or historical. Sadly, there is no labeling on any of the texts, I pick up a random scroll and open it. What graces me is not the words I know, but rather, the ancient form of the language, with some words looking more like a bunch of gibberish rather than an actual form of the language.

I return the book to the place it belonged and go to the next shelf. I doubt the rest is readable for me Of course, I would have to learn the ancient form of the language, something someone as low as an assistant cannot learn So instead of having my curiosity pick up the scroll off this shelf, I go to next, this only earns the same result and I move to the next one... and the next one… and the next one…

There is nothing I can read, what a disappointment… And besides what a day wasted. I could be in my room right now writing, reading, or in my bed. And I wouldn't need to be here. At least I got to see a little bit of a Plegia librarian aesthetic, with their elaborate arabesque, geometrical form sculpt to the uttermost perfection. Absolute eye candy. The rustic, yet elegant, smell and atmosphere of the place, the smell of paper clashing with the earthy wood... what a magnificent place.

Despite all this beauty, I can only disappoint myself. When I look at these texts, I thought I would have been able to read them, as I would mine from back home. I overestimated my skills. I still have a long way to go before I could read any of this. How I wish there was a chair somewhere in this place. I would love to fall down dramatically like a character in the movie, to satiate my frustration. Alas there is none, but at least they have the medieval desk where monks work, so there is that.

Also, I remember there is still the second floor to contend with since I kinda already wasted my time on coming here, why not explore up there? It's not like there is a killer in there. Wait.. if there is a killer in there, would he come to me? I don't know, but I need to be careful. You never know what danger lurks in this place, besides the bookworms and dark mages.

The stairs lead to even more bookshelves. This time when I start to look around, the letters are somewhat readable, and it seems I've arrived in the section of books I can actually read. It is organized by topic and alphabetic order, so the chances I end up lost are quite low. Of course, I could still screw up somehow.

I end up looking at books about theology, which I am not even capable of reading; still have to finish the rites to even fathom any of this. I kept finding mountains of text that I found incomprehensible.

That is until I find a book, unlike others. It was located in the poetry section. I didn't know what brought the text to my attention, the title is very simple and straight to the point: The Epic of Validae. Wait… it might be an epic, maybe this will tell a little bit of Plegian culture I hope, and maybe that is the reason Validar is called Validar.

I lift the slab of paper, the heaviness pulling my hand towards the ground, so I do like Tharja always did in her game apparition and hold the book close to my body and go to the nearest desk I can find.

I see the cover, laconic, and lacking any ornaments. The cover is black, with a title written in gold letters... I open the book and begin to read it aloud.

"t hu, no th ra gon sings? Is it the word sings? yes, it is.

sing and w e ep s / b oun ti ful sp"

" Having trouble reading this?"

Wait… I turn my head and see the owner of the voice. It is from a certain twin-tailed albino. Oh no no no!

"He.. hello…, just doing fine…" I answer to the best of ability, my voice trailing off, my head sweating, while I glance at the white-haired lady, the same one who

She doesn't seem convinced by the answer. giving me a pout, she replied.

" Real fine, so fine, in fact, that you stumbled on the word 'the'." I never played as a female Robin, but it seems her being sassy is true, let's see if the rest is the same or not. When in doubt … I don't have any plans if I am in doubt. Oh, snap, this is going to be awful.

"Hum .. humm." Man, get a hold of yourself! One more slip and you might as well consider yourself a dead man.

"The rumors of you being a foreigner were true. Who else but a foreigner trips on the word 'the' while serving in a royal court, especially with such a lousy accent" she says with a very annoyed look in her face.

" Yea, pretty much" I respond with the only thing coming to my mind at the moment. "I am reading this book," I say while pointing to the massive first page of it, and she stares at it.

"Oh, I see the epic of Validae, the one who tells the foundation of Plegia.", Robin states in a matter of fact tone, her eyes indifferent to the book.

" Yeah..." My voice trailed off, "I'm trying to understand your history."

"Huh, way better than a lot of other people from outside trying to declare us as a bunch of crazy cultists." She states bitterly, face turning into a very pronounced scowl. She shakes her head and goes back to a neutral face, showing no hostility.

" Besides, why are you staying here? Today is the day of lamentation, even the librarians are resting"

I… I… I…, how the heck I am supposed to know that! Take notes, this is important. Inquiring to me, I give the shoddiest answer ever.

"Well, I like reading books, and since I am in Plegia, it is good to know the history of the place, I guess" I replied, but I can see she doubts my intentions.

One of her eyebrows lifts up, then a rather mischievous, inoffensive grin appears. " Since you don't know much about our history, and you want to know more, I offer a proposal: I tell mine and in exchange, you tell yours. That is if you want to try your luck at understanding any of this" She points to the books, the daunting words growing heavier in my mind.

I weigh my options. I could try to read the darn thing, and try to understand the ancient vocabulary, the convoluted way the story is told,( the curse and blessing of an epic poem); or, I could learn the easy way, by listening to Robin's explanation of the whole thing. Despite my beating heart telling me not to, I accept her proposal.

"So what is the story?"

A dumb smile appears on her face and she steps back, "See it wasn't so hard." You sassy girl, I am going to strike back when you least expect. "So yeah, before anything, our tales begin before we even came here and settled on the land where Grima lays at rest and I shall hold his spirit." She stated, smiling no more.

While affirming her objective in life, her words were empty As if they belonged more to a programmed machine than a human being.

"A schism had come to humanity, dividing the world, and irrevocably shaping it into what it is today. Continents shocking and merging with themselves to create a new world. While old nations crumbled and new ones were born to replace them, a new era came to humanity. One of death and betrayal, but also, a rebirth to the madness of other eras. We came from the west, where today lies the Valmese Continent.

We descend from the hero, Validae, the man who made a sacred pact with Grima to lead humanity towards a new future, where neither humanity nor he would be subjugated by the whim of Naga and her deceitful people.

While a final showdown happened between them, Validae and his followers, Malik and Abbas, escaped in a boat from their violent death and came upon this land. They arrived at the beaches and escaped to the desert to survive against the natives here. While this was happening, the Just dragon had lost his fight against Naga, but escaped, badly injured he escaped and dutifully searched for his followers, until he found Validae, and died while they tended to him.

Despite being in the desert, they couldn't abandon our god, and so we decided to fix it here. They found the river of birth and as such, Plegia was born, humble but always on the lookout for our god."

" Hmm, interesting, thank you"'

"You don't need to thank me." Robin replied, "I like helping people discover our history, but besides why you had to go crazy, while everyone was cheering for me? You looked at me with such horrified eyes. What could possibly be wrong with you?".

This would happen sooner or later, the problem is I am not prepared at all to speak with her about it. Saying to a person you are bringing the apocalypse and also you do not want to be affiliated to them in any shape or form, is not an elegant response. Especially when they are the vessel of the creature in question, so I do the old switcheroo.

"I don't know, ma'am, but why are you here?" I point my finger at her "I am from a foreign country, so I never heard of yours customs, but you, the daughter of the Validar and the vessel of your god, should know way better than me in this aspect, aren't you supposed to be somewhere else in this so-called lamentation day."

She looks at me with a distinctive pissed off face " you dolt, do not change the question, and besides I know very well what I am doing." This won't work, just answer the darn question.

I either answer with a lie and respond with a no, what would be the best to answer….

"I would rather not answer" I reply.

"Why not ?" she asks me.

"Well, because I don't want to," I reply bluntly.

"Fine," Robin huffed, folding her arms as she looked warily, "Anyways, where are you from? Your accent is neither Ylissen nor Feroxi, not even Valmese."

Here we go

"Well, I come from a distant continent, far away from here. So much so, that none of your people came to it, or have even heard of it. My country happens to belong to a certain part of the world called America, and the name of my country is Brazil." I give her an honest answer, I doubt I can hide from her anything.

"So that's why your name is so weird. Who would name their child with the surname Bilac?" Robin replies, frowning.

Please, you can insult me, but spare poor Olavo, he's already dead, don't need to insult him anymore, we already did this a thousand times better.

"You must be a noble from there because from what I could gather, you have an understanding of the alphabet. Hmm, Tharja even said that you quickly learned the alphabet. She was surprised because people don't tend to learn this thing quickly." She replies while gazing into my soul. I will be forever thankful for my past version for deciding it was a good idea to learn the alphabet of the languages I wanted to learn.

"So, does your land have any tales, or not?" She asks, her curiosity emanating through a hopeful smile on her face.

"Well, my land has a lot of books and tales. So many that I don't even know where to start." Her smile grows bigger, her excitement can barely be contained as I speak.

"So tell me one already" She demands.

"Do you want something more modern or more classical?" I ask her.

"Just any you like."

Okay, let's start with something more simple, no Dostoevsky or Guimarães Rosa here.

I start to remember and tell the Iliad and the Odyssey.

"There was once this man called Paris…"

" And that was it," I say after telling the story I tried to reconstruct from the few fragments I remember. There were some parts I think got wrong, but for the love of God, I couldn't remember if Odysseus was in his voyage for twenty or ten years.

I feared the worst. Despite all her excitement, maybe she wanted me to tell my story, then end my little insignificant life. A face can betray everyone with the owner, but when spoken to a being of cosmical proportion, caution is advised. There is no way to know for certain.

I lift my head and to my utter surprise, her reaction isn't of any feigned interest or even horror. Rather, there is a pensive face, and a small little smirk on her face as eyes look up at the ceiling.

"It was a pretty good story, despite the fakeness of those gods. I see we share something in common." She stares at me with a warm smile.

"What in common, exactly?" I ask Robin.

"They were right. Nobody can fight fate. But they were also false since there is no Zeus, Athena, or Eris here, only Grima and devious enemy Naga."

Oh, that… Well, I expected something very different.

"What if I told you this story is way older, and nobody believes in it anymore. Just saying, this thing is more than 3000 years old, or something like that."

"So what do people believe then?"

Why do people keep asking difficult questions!?

"I would love to answer, but I feel overstayed my welcome" Before getting out, she stops and says "Stay here, you are fine me, but please just answer the question, I will tell no one."

"You will tell no one, right?" please be honest

"A promise is a promise." She shuts her mouth after she gives her an answer.

Why not? "well, its compl-"

"There you are, Reflet!" Another lady with white hair screams. Why do I even bother?

"Calm down Sis. I was speaking with Tharja's servant over here." The tactician defends herself.

"You know you aren't supposed to be here, lady. Master Validar is waiting." Aversa states calmly.

Robin turned back to me, "See ya, Gabriel," and she whispered in my ear, "The next time we meet, give more stories, they are fun" and go out with Aversa.

Aversa's gazes penetrate my soul, her aura strangling me. Now I have two monsters to deal with.

"Why are you here, especially on such an important day? How the Fatimids thought bringing this boy would be a good idea is beyond me." She says and promptly leaves me alone. I give myself time to rest.

I bit off way more than I could chew, Aversa's words linger in my mind, as I go back to my room with just one question in my mind: Where this will end?

And that was the third chapter of Detachment. I want to thank TheBobcat18 for helping edit this chapter, without him I doubt this chapter's grammar would be good. Besides that, I want to thank everyone still following this fic, without your support I don't think this would continue.

Despite all the help, I've got this past month, I still need a Beta reader. So anyone who wants to do that, DM me.

I also participate in a discord server, here the link: discord. gg/9XG3U7a

PS: I also updated the other two chapters.