Disclaimer: I don't own FMA.
AN: This is another story I started working on. I've written five chapters already and thought I would post it. It is slightly AU: takes place in the same world with countries like Amestris, Creta, Aerugo, etc. There is still alchemy, but the time period is slightly changed, so somewhat different weapons or resources available to the characters. I'm thinking noble hierarchy, lords and ladies, governors, etc. I'll do my best to elaborate as I go but if it seems confusing or convoluted let me know.
The Masquerade: Part 1
The splendid mansion was lit inside and out, glowing brightly up ahead as their carriage inched forward on its approach. Lanterns hung from branches of trees lining the elegant drive leading up to the impressive edifice. A veritable parade of carriages took turns stopping in front of the grand entrance, discharging its particular assortment of wealthy passengers, and driving off to await its masters' departure later that evening. Footmen assisted ladies in alighting from vehicles, gentlemen took gloved hands into the crooks of their arms, and the murmur of music and cheerful chatter could be heard from within the residence.
It was a balmy summer night and a clear, star-filled sky shone as a delightful backdrop to the festivities. Their carriage rumbled and shook once more as it started forward, and they could now see the currently emptying carriage as masked men and ladies exited. Most attendees were looking forward to the highly anticipated masquerade given yearly by a well-known lord of the Eastern Region. He was known throughout the regions as the handsomest, most eligible bachelor, as well as quite the ladies' man.
Riza Hawkeye, Countess of Creta, observed the finery and wealth of society's elite around her and, turning to her companions, rolled her eyes for their benefit. They were none of them terribly fond of mingling with other members of their echelon of the Amestrian hierarchy. However, it was a necessity to step-out at least occasionally to maintain appearances and, for them, masquerades were particularly entertaining. All the attendees wore masks and gave false names to preserve the air of mystery and, since Riza and her friends joined in relatively few events, the majority of people truly did not know who they were. This permitted them to bear witness to, and enjoy, the insanity while avoiding being dragged into it.
On this specific evening, however, they were also present for something infinitely more important than a party. If they were successful tonight, it would mean they took an integral step in their efforts to rid the country of the tyrannical Führer Bradley, in power now for nearly 300 years.
"I think I'm going with Liana, tonight. The name of some great-aunt of mine, I believe." Directing her gaze to her friend Olivier, she asked, "And you, Liv?" She kept her voice quiet to avoid anyone outside the carriage hearing.
"I'll be Sonia for the evening. I'm just glad Alex didn't arrive with us or he would have given us all away. No matter how little he socializes, he's hard to miss." This garnered an appreciative smile from the ladies in the carriage.
"I think I look like an Elena tonight," Rebecca chimed in with a grin. "I do love a good party."
All three women now turned their attention to their male escort for the night's events, Sir Kain Fuery, a man that worked closely with Riza's grandfather, Governor Grumman of Creta. Though quiet and at times shy in these social situations, he was incredibly intelligent and capable.
"How does Luke sound? Do you think I can pull it off?" The ladies nodded their assent as everyone fell silent. By now, a couple more rumblings of the carriage had occurred and they were approaching the entrance of the party. When their coach pulled up adjacent to the carpet laid out for them, a footman opened the door and Kain exited first, giving his hand to each lady in turn to assist them in alighting.
They might have looked a somber group, each decked out in black: black floor-length gowns and suit, small purses, and masks. Riza found herself incredibly conscious of the very risqué slit that reached her thigh. However, adventurous dress was quite common at masquerades due to the mystery element. With her task this evening, she'd desired easy access to her knives. Her mask was one of the simpler ones as well: she did not care for all the unnecessary plumage.
They formed pairs and walked in: Olivier on Fuery's arm with Riza and Rebecca following closely behind, arms linked. As they crossed the entrance hall to the ballroom, the din noticeably grew: the room was already packed with people, and more guests were coming. Couples were already dancing, drinks flowed from the bar and from serving staff meandering with trays, and the party was well underway.
The foursome walked directly toward the bar and stationed themselves at the end nearest the door. There, they awaited the arrival of a member of the bar staff.
"Miss Elena," Fuery began. "Would you care to dance?"
"I would love to, actually." Turning to Riza and Olivier she said, "Liana, please order me a champagne when a bartender comes around."
"Of course," Riza replied, turning to Olivier to quietly engage her in conversation. "So, what do you think?"
"Well, I don't see any of the Führer's men, which is a relief. I'd hate to do this with them here, idiots though they are."
"True. And I have yet to see our host. He is squaring away the crown jewels, no doubt. How ludicrous it is to have a masquerade while you're guarding such wealth for the Führer." Riza scanned the room, searching for Alex's location since he was a potential accomplice of theirs that evening, but only if absolutely necessary.
"I don't believe he had a choice. The Führer either trusts or truly hates him, and I'm not certain which. Though, I'll admit, I don't mind seeing Lord Mustang sweat, the arrogant ass."
At that very moment, a member of the wait-staff approached them for their drink order. "Three whiskies and a champagne, please," Riza told him. The man nodded and walked a short distance away to prepare their order. Continuing her conversation with Olivier, she said, "What do you have against the man? Sure, he's a renowned rake, but that has nothing to do with you. Just enjoy the entertainment." She smiled at her friend, raising her eyebrows in a questioning glance, and then once again returning her eyes to their analysis of her surroundings.
"He's overconfident and entirely focused on climbing the hierarchical ladder. However, for the most part, I just enjoy despising him. Have you never met him?"
"No, I've just heard of him. I know we've attended some of the same events, but our paths have not crossed." Just as Riza finished her sentence, their drinks arrived, and she took a sip of her whiskey, completely appreciative of the wave of relaxation it gave her.
"When we find out where it is, that's when we'll decide who goes." After a pause Olivier added, "It will likely be you."
"I know. I came prepared…So, seen Buccaneer lately?" At that comment, Olivier elbowed her in the arm. Buccaneer, a lord Olivier worked closely with when she was Governor of Drachma, was something they did not speak of, though Riza liked to tease her about him. Shortly thereafter, Fuery and Rebecca returned from their dance, slightly breathless and exhilarated.
They were standing in a circle chatting when someone approached Riza from behind and whispered, "Dressed to the nines, I hardly recognized you. You should really work the room more, tsk, tsk." Riza smiled in response, recognizing the voice as her friend Lord Hughes, who also happened to be a close friend and advisor of Lord Mustang, acting Governor of the Eastern Region.
Turning, she took his hand and gave it a gentle shake, asking, "And by what name are you known tonight?"
"My own. Everyone knows me, so the mystery is a lost cause," he replied, chuckling.
"And where is that lovely wife of yours? I have not yet seen her," Riza inquired.
"Oh, she's off being a social butterfly, or taking a moment upstairs. I'll tell her you're here though, she'd love to see you, Miss…?"
"Liana." Pointing in turns to Fuery, Olivier, and Rebecca, she said, "And this is Luke, Sonia, and Elena."
"How wonderful to meet you all," Hughes responded with a smile and a wink. Giving them a short bow with his head, which they reciprocated, he was on his way.
As they watched him disappear into the crowd, Olivier softly said to the small group, "Ok, he said upstairs. That means you, Liana."
"The previously discussed hour?" Riza replied.
"Yes. Let's while away the time, shall we?"
The four of them exchanged meaningful glances, now all aware of precisely what needed to be done, and their timetable for it as well. They mingled to pass the time, waiting until the party was in full swing to make their first move to decrease the likelihood of a short absence being noticed.
After a couple hours, it was nearly midnight and the revelry showed no signs of slowing down. Riza made her way to the back of the ballroom where there were doors leading to stone paths and gardens of which, surprisingly, not many people were taking advantage. Exiting the building, she turned to the right, walking along the stone railing on the walkway overlooking the gardens in their entirety. Almost certainly, there were some partygoers down amongst the foliage, benefiting from the privacy therein. Following the façade of the house, she turned right again, then left, and then right, discovering a secluded area where she could find a small measure of solitude in the fray.
She leaned her back up against the cool stone of the mansion and took a sip of what was only her second glass of whiskey. Closing her eyes, she allowed the silence to envelop her, breathing deeply, and let the arm not holding the glass hang at her side. Riza was standing at one end of the building, now far from the party, and though some sounds still managed to reach her, they were muffled at best. Opening her eyes once more, she looked out at the countryside, the trees some distance in front of her, the stars in the sky. Her family, she was told, was originally from the Eastern Region, but had moved when her grandfather was given governorship of Creta after Bradley overtook that country and made it part of Amestris. She had to admit that the Mustang estate, at least, was beautiful.
Riza's ears perked up and she made sure to stand perfectly still when she heard footsteps approaching along the same walkway she had used. Taking another sip of her whiskey, she listened intently, noiselessly shifting further to her right on her tiptoes: it sounded like two people, a man and a woman, laughing, possibly intoxicated. They made less noise than she would have expected from two random partiers. These people were trying to go unnoticed by being quiet yet acting naturally.
Fortunately for Riza, the pair stopped practically right around the corner from her, clearly not expecting anyone else to have come out this far. After what must have amounted to the pair checking their surroundings for any listeners, the giggling stopped and the voices she heard were anything but drunk.
"Any news for me, Vanessa?" While he spoke very softly, Riza could tell that the man's voice was smooth and deep, in the range of a baritone. She may have heard it before, but was unsure. She contemplated leaving, but was too curious what the pair would say, and thought the information may be useful.
"He is still in Drachma, trying to solidify the position of his new governor. He has the usual retainer and entourage, the same ass-kissers that follow him everywhere." Riza was certain she'd never heard the woman's voice before, and they are apparently keeping tabs on the Führer. That was a dangerous game. She sipped again at her drink and continued listening.
"And her?" Here, the upward inflection of his question was tense, betraying the man's concern over this particular topic.
"Nothing yet. If he has her, he's hiding her well." The woman's voice was apologetic.
"Oh, he has her. You know as well as I do that she didn't just leave for a vacation and choose not to return." The baritone was tinged with anger now. Riza thought they could only be talking about Lord Mustang's aunt, who supposedly had a penchant for travel and was on a trip around the world. Obviously, that story was fabricated. No matter, it was Lord Mustang's mother that Riza and her group were currently attempting to find.
"We'll find her." There were a few moments of silence, and then, "I should go. I'll let you know when I learn anything."
"Thank you." Riza heard the soft clack of the woman's heels as she carefully walked away, but she did not hear the gentleman's steps follow. A second later, she found out why when she saw him walk slowly up to the stone barrier in front of her that ran parallel to that portion of the building. He was several feet in front of her, to her left, and she watched him as he gazed at the same countryside she had been surveying minutes before hand. Taking another sip of her whiskey, she made as little movement as possible hoping that, perhaps, he would not notice her presence. It was too late to try to leave now.
After several minutes, she stopped watching him and turned her gaze straight ahead. In spite of all she'd just overheard, and the fact that now she had to wait for him to leave, Riza still had a job to do. She was still looking ahead when she heard him turn and catch his breath. Taking this as a sign that the man had spotted her, she moved her eyes to meet his. He dipped his head slightly in a respectful greeting and she dipped hers in response.
"My lady," came the suave, deep voice. "May I ask, how long have you been standing there?"
"Oh, only a little while," was her reply. She heard him laugh lightly at the non-committal response.
"And how long, exactly, is a little while?" He took a few steps closer, hands in his pockets, dark hair falling somewhat over dark eyes.
"Long enough," Riza replied, sipping her whiskey and maintaining eye contact, aware that he was closing the distance between them. She let one hand again fall to her side to more easily access her knives, should she need them.
"And did you happen to hear anything?" He was now directly in front of her, close enough to put his right hand on the wall to the left of her head in an attempt to dominate the interaction. In spite of herself, she felt her own heartrate begin to increase, and attempted to mask her reaction. She had not failed to notice how handsome he was.
Riza looked him dead in the eye, making it clear she was not to be trifled with. Bringing her glass to her lips to draw his attention there, she paused, saying, "And if I did? What could you do about that?" She felt the only slightly cool night air on her leg as she slipped it through the slit in her dress so her right foot could come to rest immediately inside his left. Lightly pushing off the wall to improve her position, she felt him stiffen in surprise as she moved closer, her leg pressed against his. Rule #1: Appreciate the power of distraction.
In response to her question, his hand reached for her mask, as though he planned to remove it and learn her identity since, if he knew her, he could certainly do something about it. However, her left hand, the wrist of which her small purse hung from, rose to block his right. Placing her fingers against her mask to stabilize it she said, "Oh, no, my lord. This is a masquerade, and rules are rules. The mask stays on." Fingering the vest under his jacket she said, "And, by the way, this is a magnificent vest. Did your lady-friend pick it out?" With these last words, she looked back up at his eyes.
She saw him smile lightly in response and, before he could do anything else, she downed what remained of her beverage and set the empty glass on the high-topped table to her right. Rapidly, she placed her left hand on his chest and her right on his upper left arm. Pivoting them on the foot she had placed inside his left leg, she quickly turned them around and pushed him up against the wall where she had only seconds before stood.
Riza smirked as she saw an expression of shock overtake his features, dark eyes widening. His left hand was reaching for something, so she put it on her own waist as she once again braced her right leg against his left. She saw his gaze flash down to her exposed leg just before she put more pressure on his chest with her left hand to pin him in place.
Meeting and keeping his gaze, she moved her hand down his chest, brought her right to meet it, and started to undo the buttons of his vest. He appeared to be about to speak, so she cut him off, "Lord Mustang, I must say that the more I learn of you, the more intriguing you become." As she unbuttoned his vest, she lifted the pocket watch he had there, dropping it into her purse: she could use one for her task, but Fuery still had hers, and it was not looking like she would have the opportunity to meet up with him beforehand.
"You know who I am." It was more statement than question. His eyes were still on hers, and he still seemed in a state of surprise at her behavior. Good. It was her intention to have him feeling slightly unbalanced. Rule #2: Take advantage of the mark's diverted attention.
Done with the vest, she began fixing his tie, which was a touch askew. "Well, it is good etiquette to know one's host, yes?"
"I suppose that's true. And you are enjoying the party?" His voice held a note of mirth, flirtation. She ran her hands down his chest to flatten the tie, and started securing his vest.
"Oh, very much, thank you," she smiled at him. "I merely came out here for a few minutes of peace."
"Who are you?" He softly asked. "I'm afraid I don't recognize you." She felt an arm reaching up toward her mask, at which point she blocked his hand.
"My anonymity, my lord, is a great comfort to me. I should like it to remain intact."
They looked at each other for a moment, completely silent and unmoving. Then, he must have decided something because he dropped his hand and let her complete her self-appointed task regarding his appearance. A few seconds later, Riza gently pushed herself away from him, taking two steps back and raising her hands to show she did not plan to do anything.
"Your secret is safe with me, my lord," she quietly said, giving him a close-lipped smile while lowering her hands to her sides. Tapping her mask with a finger she added, "And thank you for your gallantry and hospitality. Now, if you'll excuse me…It's been a pleasure meeting you." She gave him a nod and turned to go but stopped barely a step later when she felt a hand on her own.
"What guarantee do I have that I can trust you?" He asked, looking her in the eye again, her hand still in his.
"Honestly? None. But believe me when I say that my anonymity is as important to me as confidentiality is for you. I can keep a secret."
"If that gets out, I have no idea who to come after. That's not terribly fair, is it?" He looked at her with a slightly playful smile.
"If it does, it won't be from me." She considered him for a moment, and then opened her purse and removed her handkerchief. Riza removed his own from his pocket, replacing it with hers saying, "Here. You're quite intelligent. See if you can figure out who I am." She put his in her purse. Her handkerchief had her real initials on it, but many people were under the mistaken impression that her surname was Grumman. She rarely corrected anyone, and there were many noble surnames that began with the letter 'H.' Good luck.
Quickly, she turned away and followed the path around the mansion, further away from the party. Quietly vaulting the stone rail, several feet later she vaulted another and crouched low to conceal herself behind the waist-high stone wall that surrounded the balcony connected to the powder-room at that end of the building. She heard steps on the walkway she'd just left and heard his muttered 'What the hell.' As far as he was concerned, she practically disappeared: ladies did not go vaulting stone walls. Riza, however, was not your average member of the nobility.
AN: I hope you like it and let me know what you think! Have a good one!