A.N. I:

'Thoughts'
"Xingese"
"Xingese Writing"

To Build a Home

There is a house built out of stone
Wooden floors, walls and window sills
Tables and chairs worn by all of the dust
This is a place where I don't feel alone
This is a place where I feel at home

In the small town of Risembool, there were many old and beautiful houses. Some were close to the centre, near to the surprisingly richly furnished town hall, and the rows of charmingly old-fashioned shops. The public house was one of the few places with permission to sell alcohol, and had a gentleman's club in one of the other downstairs rooms. Even the so-called 'red-light district' was a surprisingly well-mannered place, with its employers and employees being productive members of society. The main source of income was sheep farming, which reflected the local's attitudes.

Risembool, unlike other towns, had its own code of conduct, had had for at least sixty odd generations. It centred on the principles that land and produce were worth more than money, and bartering was mandatory when shopping for things; however if the person was one of the villagers, and could not afford the price you wanted, you helped them. Everyone in the village helped each other, and presented a united front, even if they were not. The age of your house and how long your family had been living in Risembool made up the majority of your ranking in society, though your job would count for some points in your favour. Everyone had to know the folk dance around the bonfire. Marriage contracts and dowries were the only acceptable terms for an engagement. All children had to know how to manage accounts and perform manual labour. News, be it gossip or fact, was only available from the mouths of the women in the village (be they from the red-light, the main village or the farms) but never passed to ears outside of Risembool. Above all, no family leaves Risembool without a member of their family staying and looking after their property.

So when Trisha Elric and her husband Van Hohenheim decided to up posts and move across to Xing, leaving everything to the Rockbells, their neighbours, with no blood relation what-so ever-, without so much as a buy-your-leave; the gossip level reached an all-time high. Then again, the citizens knew that the Elrics would be coming back. They all did, eventually.

The Elric house atop the hill to the east of Risembool was full of life. The windows and doors were flung open, pots of paint and bottles of cleaning fluid were dotted everywhere, and the air was filled with the hustle and bustle of a close-knit collection of people. Cases were by the door, filled with clothing, crockery and linens. The beds had been stripped bare, the mattresses cleaned and the carpets beaten. The rooms had been repainted in a light cream, with lavender and dark green furnishings. Pinako Rockbell leant on the freshly polished oak table, puffing at her pipe. Her son, Urey, had rolled up his sleeves to assist in washing up the bowls and plates that it had been decided were to remain here; whilst his pregnant wife Sara sat at the large armchair, her feet resting on a stool to save her swollen ankles. Van Hohenheim, balancing a large stack of clothes, kicked his way through the door, putting them in a large pile by his own partner. Trisha was neck –deep in suitcases, frantically packing and re-packing. Her lilac top hid a round, pregnant stomach of her own.

"Did you get the suits?" asked Trisha, snappishly.
"Yes, dear," smiled Van, kissing her softly on the forehead, feeling as she leant back onto him.
"Sorry, love, I'm just panicking. Who knew moving was so stressful?"
Sara Rockbell laughed at her friend. "Why are you moving away anyway, Trish? I thought you liked it here in Risembool!"
Her mother-in-law joined in. "Yeah, Hoho. What about me? I was under the illusion that we were friends! Why spring this on me suddenly? We were reminiscing about the good old days when we miss-spent our youth at 'The Silver Boar', when suddenly you told me "Oh, by the way, Trisha has informed me that we're moving to Xing, so you can have our house until if or when we return, sorry, I've got to go now, bye!" So, why exactly are you going to Xing?"

Trisha and Van turned to face them as one, leaning on the suitcases in an easy fashion. The Rockbell women were smiling dangerously, daring the Elrics to explain, and warning them not to disappoint. Urey Rockbell stood to the side, preparing to referee and interfere as needed.

"We chose-" began Trisha. "You chose, Trish, not me. I just went along with it," joked Van, his hands already up in surrender. She glared, and started again. "I chose –happy now? Good.- to go to Xing for many reasons. Firstly, their exemplar education system." Trisha was falling into lecture mode, after being a teaching assistant at the local school; she was fully able to use her skills practically. "Whilst here, we have large classes of mixed age groups with very simple lesson plans and no great curriculum, in Xing it is required that until you are able to pass at least two written exams before you can leave for work. Basic self-defence is taught and even the 'lower class' is given these key opportunities"

Sara interrupted her. "Their system of government means that once you are placed in a class, you and future generations are stuck in the same class, and cannot better themselves except through marriage. How do you plan to combat this?"

Trisha smiled. "That was, in fact, my next point. We are going there with a merchant's right, therefore we will run a shop. This automatically makes us middle class, either edging top or bottom depending on what goods we offer-"
"-Yeah, what are you planning on doing?" snorted Pinako, putting more tobacco in her pipe.
Trisha glared. "I was getting there! Now, there is no such thing as Alchemy as we know it in Xing. They have an imitation called Alkahestry, which is primarily a medical practise. This means that the market is open for other forms of alchemy, such as fixing things, making weapons and teaching theory. That'll be Van's job." Her eyes gleamed with pride for her lover, whilst Van blushed. "I, on the other hand, will be offering my teaching skills in the form of dressmaking classes and cooking classes, as well as selling such to the people. I think an Amestrian-style food store would go down well." She smirked which looked surprisingly at home on her skin, whilst Pinako nodded in acceptance.

Van started talking now, "As you well know, here the supply of doctors does not meet the demand. This is very different to the way it is in Xing, since over there their primary occupation is doctoring. On a side note," he interrupted himself, "it's a damn shame we aren't on better terms with them, since a lot of Xingese people could do with jobs, and we do really need more medical practitioners. Anyway, back to my point. I want the best care for Trisha that I can possibly afford. Granted, you are the best here," he looked apologetically at the surgeon family that had practically adopted him, "but the Xingese are just that much better."

Urey and Sara gave stiff nods, resolving to take a trip to Xing once the baby was born, not only to see their friends, but to study their techniques. Pinako continued, "And your last reason?"
"Wh-whaa-what?" said Van, looking for all of Amestris like a child that had just gotten caught with his fingers in the proverbial 'cookie jar'. Pinako raised her eyebrows. "I know you, Ho. You need four good reasons before you do something, no more, no less. It's one of your funny little quirks. Now, what's the last reason?" Her voice left no room for argument.

"War. Amestris is constantly at war; so much blood, death and destruction. It was the making of this country, how it became great, and it seems as if the pattern is starting again." The sun drifted behind a cloud, darkening as the conversation did. Van's golden eyes dulled, filled with shattering pain and loss and age. "It will destroy us, I know it. Especially as now the military is drafting in Alchemists. Our Alchemy will revolutionise warfare. Amestris will be unbeatable."

"But, surely, that's a good thing, right?" asked Sara, worriedly, her hand moving towards her stomach protectively. Van shock his head sadly. "With Alchemists involved, it will turn out as genocide. No survivors. The opposition will be boxed in from all sides and killed mercilessly. And no alchemist will ever be the same again." He snorted. "Heck, no alchemist might ever be sane again. It took me around fifty years to recover my wits after Xerxes fell."

Trisha continued, wrapping Van's arms around her, placing them on her bump. "Van is likely to get drafted. I don't want that. Then again, would anyone?" She sighed. "But Van is the strongest, practically immortal and capable of impossible alchemy. They would recruit him immediately." Her eyes narrowed her voice rough with imagined grief and anger. "I want this child to have a father."

"I understand", whispered Sara, moving nimbly as she could to join the hug, while Pinako and Urey joined in. "I just wish you didn't have to go."
"Neither do we," murmured Hohenheim.
"You'll visit at least once a year. Promise me." Glared Pinako, her eyes red with emotion.

"We promise. We'd never abandon family."

The journey to Xing was rough and long. They had decided to travel by boat, since the desert was too treacherous for a pregnant woman to undertake. The boat had been of Xingese design, with red sails that were an odd square-triangle shape, and a zigzag block of bunks at the back. It was not particularly large, but nor was it too small, and tickets had been quite cheap. Unfortunately the sea had been choppy and stormy. Lightning had almost struck the ship, and some of the passengers had been thrown over the side. Luckily, there was a very small number of casualties and the Elric-Hohenheims made it on time.

The couple were paused on the landing jetty at the port, trying to take in the fantastic architecture and colours before them. The dialect was musical, even with all the traders shouting, and there was a general aura of contentment. The difference between the tranquil of Risembool and here was vast. Van steered Trisha through the crowd, pausing to translate some key phrases and make small talk with various stall owners. He eventually found a child pushing a kart with seats in it, obviously waiting for customers.

"Hey, Mister! D'ya want a ride?" The boy yelled, waving madly at him. He dashed forward, miraculously managing to avoid knocking people over. "I'll take you and the Lady anywhere, Mister, please! Please?" His dark eyes opened wide and pleaded silently.
"Ok, son," said Van gently, releasing Trisha's hand and kneeling down to look him in the eyes, pulling out a piece of paper as he did so, "can you take my wife and I to this address?"
The child looked at the tatty paper, mouthing the words. "Sure, Mister. You got money?"

Hohenheim groaned. "How did I know that was coming… Yes, kid. I have the money. Could you just get us to the shop as quickly as possible?" The child smiled, motioning them into the kart.

"Sure thing, Boss! Hold on!" he grinned, before charging off, dust billowing out behind the kart that traversed expertly out of the market place; with Trisha's surprised chime of laughter echoing behind them.

"Oh, Van," said Trisha, gazing at their new home. "It's beautiful." She squeezed his hand, gazing at their new home with wonder in her eyes. The trees framed it, with sunlight dancing across the pale brown slated roof. It hung in arched triangles, with dragons carved onto the tops to decorate it. The red banner of their shop proclaimed boldly in gold Xingese lettering "Hohenheim-Elric Incorporated: Amestrian Culture for Xing" Already, shoppers gathered outside, looking at the opening date with interest.

"Let's look inside," Van said with a smile, pulling her down the path to the back. He pushed open the door, and peered into inside. Rooms painted the same colour of crimson, with dark cherry furnishings. Panels with cloth divided rooms in a way that let sunlight in without showing anything, going well with the cream cushions that were scattered on the seats. Trisha was looking with wonder, eyes glistening with tears of happiness, running fingers across the slightly dusty surface of cupboards with more traditional carvings in them.

Van sat down in the master bedroom, resting the cases on the little table with a vase of cherry blossom on it. Trisha sat next to him, snuggled into his shoulder. "This is the best day of my life", she whispered. Van kissed her chin gently. "As well as the day you met me, the day I proposed, when the baby's born…" He teased.
"Va-an!" she grinned, before kissing him, and pushing him onto the bed.

"Hohenheim you say?" said the Emperor, stroking his black beard in surprise. "I recognise that name from the personal notes of Emperors past. Watch him closely; check if he matches the description."

"And if he does, your Honour?" asked the men in masks, lined in front of him. These were his imperial guard, the best of the best.

"Bring him to me. Alive, and unharmed. If he is who I suspect he is, we need to talk." He glared at his men. "He is an important ally. Do not harm him, or anyone close to him."

"It will be as you say, Emperor."

"Leave my presence", he ordered, already turning to retire.

A.N. II:

Due in part to my lack of inspiration for Incarnate, and also due to my determination to write a multi-chapter fiction; I have started 'To Build a Home.' This is another alternate universe (hah, like I can write canon fiction), with roots to canon. It is (hopefully) the first of a series, and is set pre-canon timeline anyway.

Blanket Disclaimer: I do not own any characters/places mentioned. They belong to the franchise[s] respective owner[s]. The plot of this fan work and original characters are my intellectual property. I make no profit out of this.

I hope you enjoy it!

Call Me Tom [Started: 13.7.12] [Edited: 20.7.12]

Words: 2,446 [total]