Title: Temperance
Pairings: None
Rating: PG for this chapter
Older brother: Fourteen
Younger brother: Thirteen
The biggest problem with travelling so much, Edward found, was that there wasn't anything to do on trains.
You could look at the scenery, but after enough hours spent that way, even new destinations got old. It was a good way to occupy the eyes while letting the mind wander, but considering the sorts of places Ed's mind tended to go when left to itself, he really preferred not to let that go on too long.
You could read, and if he could, Ed would have loved to spend those otherwise dead hours pouring through some of his endless backlog of books. There was just one problem with that, and it was a maddening, humiliating one -- Edward Elric got motionsick. He couldn't read inside a moving vehicle without subjecting himself to headaches, nausea, and all the reactions that got, so that was out.
You could sleep, and that's what Ed usually ended doing, for long stretches at a time. Loath though he was to admit it, his height did have one advantage -- he fit onto most benches. The only problem was, Al couldn't sleep on trains; there wasn't nearly enough room for it, and even if there was, he didn't really sleep the way ordinary people did any more.
And so, to ease his conscience, Ed always ended up spending at least part of every train ride just talking with Al, or playing cards.
"I'll match you," he said, and tossed down two small coins and a loose screw.
"Hmmm," Al said, sounding uncertain. "I wonder what I should do..."
"Just do it quickly," Ed said, eyes on his cards.
"All right, then," Al said. "I'll call, Brother. Show me what you've got."
Ed's eyes flickered up to meet Al's, and he suddenly smirked wickedly. "Hate to admit it, Al," he said, "but I've got a royal straight flush." With a well-practiced flourish, he set the run of red cards out on the board between them.
"Oh, is that so?" Al's voice sounded surprised. "Well, as it turns out, Brother... so do I." He carefully laid out his own hand, a run of spades to Ed's diamonds.
Ed stared at Al's cards, then his own, and then looked up into what passed for his brother's face. "Al," he said, "what's the point of playing cards if both of us are going to cheat?"
"I wouldn't have to cheat if you would just play fair for a change!" Al sounded injured. "Besides, I thought you were getting bored, winning all the time."
Ed groaned. "Anything gets boring if you do it for too long," he grumbled. "Especially riding on stupid trains, going on stupid missions, and taking orders from that stupid Colonel Mustang!"
He slouched down further, moodily kicking the wooden panel of the seat across from him. Alphonse obediently edged sideways to make room for the brotherly temper tantrum.
"Brother," Al strated again. "Why did the colonel pick us for this investigation, anyway? Do you suppose it has anything to do with the... you know?"
Ed snorted in disgust as he sat up again. "I asked the same thing," he said. "He said no. So then I said, if that's the case, why should I care? Sir. And he said," Ed sat up straight and pitched his voice deeper, in imitation of Mustang's.
" 'Not everyone spends their life obsessed with silly goose-chases like the Philosopher's Stone, Fullmetal. You don't have to care, you just have to obey and go.' Smug bastard!" Ed's voice returned to his usual range.
"I see," Al murmured. "Well, even if it doesn't have anything to do with human transmutation, what does he want us to do there?"
"How should I ever know what he wants?" Some of the irritated tone faded from his voice, though, as Ed focussed on the problem at hand. "It's a job for a National Alchemist. Or so he thinks. I don't see why he can't just ask the local police to get some more details in the situation before sending people in to clean it up, but I guess that's what I'll find out when we get there."
"This town --" Al hesitated.
"Elliotsburg," Ed said.
"Elliotsburg," Al repeated. "What's happening there?"
"We don't know for sure." Ed rested his chin on his metal arm, gazing unseeingly out the window. "But people go in there, and they don't come out."
"What?" Al's surprise and disbelief was plain. "Not at all?"
"No, people can still pass through there," Ed replied. "There's a shipping train that passes through every week, and the conductors and workers come out fine. But travellers, people who are just stopping in Elliotsburg for a night, just... stay there. They never leave."
"Are they... killed?" Al said hesitantly.
"They don't seem to be." Ed shrugged. "They're still there. A few wrote letters to their family or their employers saying that they won't be back. They just all, for some reason... decide to stay."
"That's odd," Al agreed. "Why doesn't the local unit investigate, then?"
"Hah," Ed grinned blackly. "That's the catch. There isn't a local unit. There are no soldiers posted at Elliotsburg."
"None?" Astonishment was even plainer this time. "Why not?"
Ed pushed away the cards from the table and unearthed the thin folder of information he'd been given before he boarded the train. "There was never any need," he said. "Elliotsburg is an interior town, not near any borders. It hasn't seen any fighting in almost a hundred years. Because of its isolated location in the hills, it's not a midpoint on any of the major routes. And it never had any significant ore deposits nearby, so there was no concern about the town being used to manufacture weapons."
"If there's no mining, and it's not on any major travelling routes," Al said thoughtfully, "then what do the people there do for a living? If it's in the hills, there can't be that much farming."
"There is some," Ed said. "But apparently, Elliotsburg grew wealthy about twenty years ago as a town that produces a lot of cloth. And that's another odd thing..." He trailed off, and frowned at the sheets of paper.
"Lately, Elliotsburg has been selling a lot more than usual. Their production rates have gone way up. But a lot of people have been defaulting on their taxes. That was the first thing that caught the attention of the military," he added with a trace of bitterness. "They only noticed the missing people after they started investigating."
"So a lot more money has been going into the city," Al summed up, "but people can't pay their taxes. And people who enter the town... don't leave again. You think these are all related somehow?"
"Probably." Ed dropped the folder, and yawned. "Either they can't pay them, or they won't. But the brass doesn't want to send in a unit to investigate until they know what's going on. They don't want to start a civil war in their own backyard, after all."
"That's one good thing about being away from the borders," Al allowed. "Also that it doesn't take that long to get there, even if it is isolated."
"Middle of nowhere is where it is," Ed said. "The train only goes there once a week, so unless we want to walk down the highway, we're stuck here until the next one comes through." He gave a theatrical sigh. "At least we won't feel in a rush to do things."
"What's your plan?" Al wanted to know. Ed froze, and looked away guiltily. "Or do you just plan to play it by ear again?" he asked, an amused edge in his voice.
"I don't know," Ed said defensively. "We can talk to people. We'll find an inn and a place to stay. People in inns always like to talk. Ah!" He brightened up with a smile. "Maybe we'll run into one of the other migrants there, and we can ask them why they stayed."
"We also might look in the town's jail," Al suggested, "even if they aren't conveniently hanging out at the pubs. Maybe they're locking up people who try to leave, and making them write the letters."
"Even if there isn't anyone like that there," Ed said thoughtfully, "we could probably find somebody there to tell us a lot. People who have gotten arrested are less likely to --"
Their conversation was cut short by the wailing of the train's brakes, as they began to slow for their arrival at the Elliotsburg station. Ed looked as if his birthday had come early. "All right!" he cheered. "No more boring riding on trains! Al, let's get our stuff and go!"
tbc.
