Disclaimer/Notes: See Part 1.
Things pick up eventually. Promise.
OOOOO
Running her hands through her tangled hair, Eliza pulled out her pink ribbons with the intention of making the errant locks somewhat presentable. As she divided her hair into two parts and lifted the left portion to the side of her head, she felt a tugging on the opposite side of her hair. She glanced over to see a water homunculus staring at her intently, its cropped cerulean hair moving fluidly in the breeze birthed by its fluttering gossamer wings. Accompanying it was a fire homunculus that was weighed down by a wooden brush in its tiny grip, struggling to remain aloft as the object slipped out of its hands. The Aquarian girl quickly extended her arms, catching both the brush and the homunculi as they fell. Cradled in the human's hands, the redheaded creature met the alchemist's eyes and smiled in gratitude.
"You should be more careful," Lear told the creature with motherly exasperation. "You know you can't carry that all by yourself."
The fire homunculus cast its eyes downwards and blushed, the crimson hue clashing with the color of its deep vermillion hair.
Sensing its sibling's distress, the water homunculus glided down beside its counterpart and hefted the brush up by the end while leaving room for the other's hands. Together, they carried the brush into the air with them.
"Do you mind?" Lear asked the youngest alchemist. "They've been trying to do this with Mackwell all morning, but he is unrelenting in his aversion to having his hair touched." She glanced over at the man in question, who frowned in return.
"I'm terribly sorry for wanting to get work done," he snapped, accidentally breaking his stirring rod in half. "Damn it all…" he hissed, standing up to dispose of the remains and retrieve another one with an aggravated sigh.
Eliza watched him leave, noting how lethargically he dragged himself over to the supply shelf, bumbling around in the drawers until he found what he needed. Upon obtaining another rod, he leaned over and rested his head on the cool surface of the stone wall, probably in an attempt to recompose himself before he returned to their table. His eyes did not glow with their usual gem-like quality, nor did his hair seem as immaculate as it had been yesterday. She wondered if he had simply not bothered to redo it, for a few strands had wormed their way out of the white cloth that divided his hair in two and the locks that framed his face seemed to be in a state of disarray.
"Eliza?"
"Huh? Oh, uh, I mean, no. No. I don't mind at all…" she answered, snapping out of her trance and pushing her hair off of her shoulders. The homunculi opened their mouths in silent laughter and flew to attend the girl's hair.
"So, what have you guys been doing?" Eliza asked, flinching slightly as the tangles in her hair were yanked back by the brush duel-wielded by overeager homunculi. "Any, uh, new stuff?" she partially mumbled, wanting to divert attention away from herself.
"No, no," Lear said, showing Eliza a stone that looked as if it could have been plucked from the road outside the workshop (which, she realized, it probably had been), "Just transmuting. We were working so hard yesterday that it seems we didn't even notice how low on iron we were."
Eliza blushed at how casually Lear mentioned the previous day, as if the awkward silence between her and Mackwell had not been there. Avoiding dialogue, she took another bite out of her pastry, the skin on her face stretching painfully as the homunculi continued to tug at her hair. Swallowing carefully, she glanced over at Mackwell, who was dourly chipping away at his pile of cobblestones in silence, pausing only to stack the finished product in a neat wall of iron bars that conveniently separated his and Eliza's workspace. Taking note of her stare, he glared at her over the barrier and she immediately turned her head. "OW!" she exclaimed, feeling a few follicles separate from her scalp. She turned around to pout at the homunculi and eyed a few long blonde hairs dangling from their brush. Their eyes watered at her displeasure and, like she did with Ezra, Eliza found she couldn't stay angry for more than a minute, her expression softening almost instantly. She looked around at the occupants of the workshop, hoping that she hadn't caused too much of a ruckus. Much to her relief, the old man was still nursing a bottle of whiskey next to the stove while the dark haired girl was having a one-sided argument with her rather oblivious counterpart, the blonde woman casually stirring a stew as younger girl's words went in one ear and out the other.
Lear gestured for the homunculi to come to her and they obeyed, albeit slowly (artificial or not, they were still children and thus dreaded a scolding from their "mother"). As the older woman whispered something inaudible to Eliza into delicate pairs of ears, the girl caught Mackwell's stare and noticed the wry smirk on his face. Her jaw dropped in disbelief before she willed her mouth shut and glared back at him.
"Um, do you want me to help transmute?" Eliza asked while rubbing the spot on her head as the initial soreness morphed into a dull ache.
"You just get yourself settled first, Eliza." She paused to laugh and once again waved a cobblestone at Eliza. "I feel rather guilty about letting progress getting in the way of morals. That little fall you and Stanice had was more than likely my fault. I suppose this is stealing." She chuckled again, perhaps amused at how inappropriate to her age her actions were.
Mackwell snorted in disapproval. He had argued with Lear for a solid ten minutes that morning before he agreed to go upturn the path in the interest of saving time. He was not a thief. Morphing the last of his cobblestones with a frown on his face, he topped off his iron barrier with an unnecessarily loud CLACK. He looked over at Lear with a half-lidded stare, silently reveling over his victory in the unofficial transmutation race he had started with the silver-haired woman.
"Finished already, Mackwell?" Lear asked nonchalantly, eyeing his iron with the kind of approving gaze one would give a child to placate a need for appreciation due to competitive insecurities. He grunted in response and rose to wash his hands, the sound of his chair scraping against the floor startling Eliza, who was flipping though her notes without really looking at them in an attempt to make herself look busy. She twirled her index finger into her unbound hair nervously.
"Um," Eliza began quietly so Mackwell couldn't hear, although the sound of rushing water from the sink nearby muted her to him, assuming he wasn't already ignoring her, "Can you tell me more about the Philosopher's Stone?"
Lear's lips parted in a quiet gasp and she looked at the younger girl apologetically. "What makes you think I know more than you already do?"
"I don't know. There's just something about you…" Eliza paused and eyed the other alchemist nervously. "Err, that is, I mean… Nothing wrong about you but, uh…" She sighed and cradled her head in her folded arms resting upon the table. "Nevermind." She really did think Lear knew more than she let on, but Eliza had no way to prove it, nor did she possess the courage to insinuate Lear was lying. She was attached to the older woman and thus did not want her thirst for what she believed to be the truth hurt their relationship. "I guess I just forget that you aren't some kind of super alchemist. Ah! That is…" Eliza wanted to kick herself. "You couldn't possibly know everything. Oh, dig yourself deeper Eliza! I'll shut up now." She pressed her red face further into her arms.
Lear sighed and then smiled, taking the brush from her homunculi and walking to stand behind Eliza, whose hair was flipped over her head after the sudden burial of her face. The older alchemist ran her long fingers though the golden locks before putting the brush to them in a much gentler fashion than that of her elemental creations. "You're so silly, Eliza. I hope you never change."
Eliza made a tired noise but did not protest to Lear brushing her hair. She closed her eyes and unbidden thoughts of her mother surfaced at the familiarity of the gesture. Tears welled up in her eyes and she shook her head, wiping them into her sleeves. She really didn't have the time to mope, especially not in front of her coworkers. As if sensing the girl's encroaching sorrow, Lear paused to rub her back in a circular motion. This gesture was also too familiar to be comforting, and Eliza sobbed into her folded arms.
"Would you like me to walk you home?" Lear asked, bending down to whisper in Eliza's ear.
"But I just got here!" Eliza hissed back though her tears, laughing at the question because it was all she could do not to exacerbate her sobs.
The silver-haired woman resumed combing the girl's hair. Plucking one of the ribbons out of Eliza's hands, she separated the girl's hair horizontally and tied the upper portion, smoothing out the bottom half with the brush. "You might want to keep it like this for today. I think pigtails would only hurt your head more."
"Oh." Eliza lifted her head to glance at Lear, the whites of her eyes a pinkish hue and her nose rubbed red from wiping her face on her sleeves. She then looked at Mackwell, who still had his back turned and was too preoccupied with cleaning himself to be annoyed with her.
"Mackwell and I were discussing how to best convince Ansala to join us before you came in. He's not interested in money, as you know. Nor is he very fond of Mackwell," Lear tittered. "I suppose skill won't make up for bad chemistry."
"He's just a misanthrope," the other alchemist interjected sourly while coming to sit back down at the table and irritably swatting his dirty bangs. "He'd be more help to us if he crawled back to his cave and quit harassing the castle with his constant nitpicking. Between him and Dr. Frahm, it's a wonder anyone gets any work done."
Eliza frowned at Mackwell. The man seemed to take no notice of it and scooted further under the table. He then glanced over at the girl and commented with a smarmy look that the only thing that could possibly grab that old hermit's attention would be the Philosopher's Stone.
"Then I suppose that's a good enough reason to start on it." Eliza hissed angrily through grit teeth, her notes crinkling in her balled fists.
"Now, now," Lear interjected, bracing Eliza by her shoulders to restrain any violent outbursts while staring down Mackwell as if daring him to say anymore to agitate the girl. She shook her head and smiled at something funny that only she seemed to notice. "Let's just get back to work."
OOOOO
Exhaustion tugged at Eliza's eyelids as she pressed the ore weakly between her palms and concentrated on flushing out its impurities. She shook her head violently to wake herself up, somewhat mad at herself for being tired after coming in so late earlier that afternoon. Placing the finished product next to a row of identical iron slabs, she succumbed to her fatigue, wiping the residue of the multiple transmutations she had performed off of her hands and meekly announcing that she was going to take a break.
Mackwell immediately snapped his head in her direction, as if daring her to get up. His hair was damp from the steam produced by the bubbling flasks in front of him and hung limply over his rusty glare.
"See you in a bit, then," Lear said, dismissing the girl with a wave of her elegant hand. The homunculi saw her leave and flew into the air to follow suit. The older alchemist cleared her throat and looked at them intently before shooing them away with the girl, whatever message conveyed between mother and children going unspoken but understood.
Eliza nodded at Lear before glancing over at Mackwell, who was still staring her down. She flinched and looked away, fleeing to the outside a little faster than necessary. On her way out she nearly tripped over one of the new cooks, the burly old man having passed out following what seemed to be a thorough taste test of a new wine. She looked around for the other cooks, but found only the blonde one, who seemed to be absorbed in the very same stew she had been stirring hours earlier. She made her exit as silently as she could, and nearly shut the door on the homunculi that were following her out. "Sorry!" she whispered as she heard the tiny gasps of surprise, holding the door open and motioning for the wispy creatures to go on ahead of her.
As the door slammed she let out a loud sigh of relief, letting go of the stress and worry that had been building up inside of her as she worked under Mackwell's tyrannical gaze. "Slave driver," she mumbled, frowning as she trudged down the upturned path in front of the workshop and making sure not to trip again.
"Don't you think he's scary?" she asked the homunculi as she tilted her head in the direction of the workshop while parting her hair at the base of her neck with her hands, making a face to go along with her poor imitation of Mackwell's hair. Their giggles were akin to jingling bells, and the blonde girl tittered along with them.
"Who's scary?" Eliza heard somebody ask. It was the dark haired cook from the workshop. She was sitting on an impromptu blanket made out of her apron in the shade of a nearby building, her gaze lingering on the waterfall as it flowed out of the highlands that cocooned the capital city.
"Oh, uh, nobody," the alchemist answered, not sure if she should keep on walking or sit down with this new girl. Eliza had never really had any friends her own age, much less another girl. Present circumstances did not allow her much of a social life, although Mishell would drop by her house from time to time, but those visits were mostly to bother her for another book from the castle's library. The boy was willing to ignore the fact that the texts in question were stolen goods as long as he was able to read them. It was almost blackmail, but Eliza did not mind letting go of the books for a few days, nor did she think Mishell would ever tattle (and who would believe him, anyway?). Even before her parents were killed, she was never in one place for too long, as she, her mother and father were constantly moving back and forth between Castle Aquaria and the front line in Arias, the latter of which became the eternal resting place for her parents. At that time she was at home with her newborn brother under the care of Mr. Steno. She remembered Iraiza holding her as she cried while Ezra remained obliviously silent.
"Would you like to sit down?" the dark haired girl asked.
"Huh?" Eliza responded dumbly, knocked out of the downward spiral of her memories.
"Would you like to sit down?" the cook asked again, scooting over and patting the free spot she left on her apron.
"Oh, sure. Uh, thank you," Eliza said, unceremoniously plopping down beside the other girl. The homunculi flew over to the stone railing in front of the two inventors, sitting on the edge and giggling as the spray of droplets from the cascading water misted over them.
"So, where are you from? Are you a foreigner, too?" the cook began after a short-lived silence.
"Oh, no," Eliza answered. "I was born here."
"Neat. I was a bit surprised that no one I had talked to up until now was a native Aquarian. I mean, this is the capital!"
The alchemist nodded at the dark haired girl but did not know what to say. Fortunately, it seemed the cook was not finished.
"It's so pretty here. I was scared I'd be trapped in Kirlsa for the rest of my life," she continued, laughing.
Eliza flinched. "Oh. You're from Airyglyph?"
"Yeah! My mother and I are cooks for the Black Brigade. Mister Fayt was passing through a few weeks ago with Lord Albel and the captain said that I should join. I jumped at the chance, although my mother was reluctant to let me go. I bet she'd never guess I'd end up in Aquios."
"Oh." Eliza said again, tensing up upon the revelation of the other girl's nationality. Grimly, the alchemist deduced that this girl more than likely fed the very army that leveled Arias. Torn on exactly how to react to this, the blonde girl opened her mouth to excuse herself.
"I'm Mayu, by the way," the cook said before Eliza could get a word out, looking over to make eye contact and extending her right hand to the alchemist.
"E-eliza," the alchemist stuttered in return, swallowing her exiting monologue.
"Nice to meet you!" Mayu smiled sweetly. Her hand was as soft and warm as Eliza's own, and she suddenly felt terrible for falling into the black and white mindset the war had engendered. She could feel her eyes watering up over her inner turmoil and she turned her head away for fear Mayu would notice. SHE'S GLYPHIAN a part of Eliza's mind screamed, and although she could not quite repress the unease that surfaced, she told herself that there was no sin in an acquaintance with the other girl. "I'm so glad you're here—I haven't been around somebody my own age in, well, ages." She laughed at her own joke and let go of Eliza's hand, reaching into a pocket on her dress and unwrapping a napkin that held a fruit tart.
"It's a little smashed, but it'll taste just fine," Mayu assured Eliza as she split it in half and offered a piece to her new friend.
It tasted heavenly and Eliza was sure to tell the cook this, whose face lit up at the compliment.
"It's one of my family's secret recipes, but there hasn't been enough fruit to spare in Airyglyph to indulge in sweets—I wish there was a way I could send a few back home unspoiled." She sighed and took another bite, praying that Airyglyph would soon make use of the fertile land acquired from Aquaria. "So, what are you three doing over there? I've never seen alchemists at work before. It's not really a common practice in Airyglyph outside of the royal apothecaries and all."
Eliza frowned at the mention of her work. "Well, it's kinda complicated."
Mayu tilted her head to glance at the blonde girl. "Is it a secret?"
"No, no. Nothing so intriguing. I guess you can say we're allowed to try whatever we want as long as it will benefit our sponsor."
"Master Fayt?"
"Yep. And his friends, too. Right now we—well, Mackwell and Lear—have been imbuing more power into stones that can be smelted onto weapons and stuff." Eliza looked skyward to avoid Mayu's inquisitive face. "I'm just an apprentice really, but I'm really grateful for the money Fayt gave me, so of course I'm doing my best to help."
"That's really neat. So all of you can use runeology?"
"Yeah, but I've never actually seen what spells they can do. I only know a few basic ones myself, but I'm sure they can do some pretty powerful stuff." It felt strange talking to another person about her coworkers. Mr. Steno only knew their names and Ezra was only privy to Mackwell's sour humor. Sometimes Mishell would pester her about her work and ask unnecessarily complicated questions that Eliza could not answer. She tended to just bait him outside with a new book and shut the door behind him.
"Can you show me?" There was a sort of childish excitement in her voice to which Eliza could relate. The alchemist's face reddened at the sudden interest in her skill, but she then remembered that her scepter was at home and thus she could do nothing too impressive. She told Mayu this, who then puckered her lips in disappointment. "That's too bad."
"Most runologists don't require an object to help channel their powers, but I'm not too sure that I'd be able to control mine without it. I'd hate to burn down the city just because I was overconfident," Eliza explained jokingly.
"I would hypothesize that even with your scepter a disaster would occur," a third party interjected.
Surprise quickly overtook Eliza's annoyance at the comment, for it was not Mackwell who spoke. She looked inquisitively at the bespectacled boy who stood behind her, his typically prim platinum hair frizzing in the mist of the waterfall. "Mishell? What are you doing here?"
"Isn't it obvious?" he asked in return and Eliza rolled her eyes at his usual haughtiness.
"Not really." Eliza answered, scooting around to face him. "We don't have any candy in the workshop."
Mishell frowned. "For your information, I have been contracted." He flashed his compact to emphasize this.
"By who?" Eliza inquired. She knew Mishell was smart, but who in their right mind would hire a child? What could he even do?
The boy sighed in exasperation. "Who do you think?"
"Fayt? But you're just a child!" the alchemist reiterated aloud.
"So are you," Mishell returned bluntly, adjusting his large glasses as he felt them slip down his nose. He allowed himself a victorious smirk after Eliza did not retaliate.
Mayu put a reassuring hand on Eliza's shoulder and turned to Mishell. "Does this mean Fayt and his friends are in Aquios?" she asked, more to change the subject that to sate her curiosity (although Fayt's presence did excite her).
"Well duh," Mishell drawled. The dark-haired girl glared at him with sudden venom and he flinched before lowering his head. "They were…" he began slowly, glancing up to look at Mayu, whose face was so placid he wondered if he just imagined the glower.
"They were what?" the cook repeated, impatient.
"They were kind of in a hurry to get to the castle."
"Why?" both girls simultaneously inquired.
"I couldn't very well ask them. Lady Nel just handed me some money and asked me to settle in here." He reached into his pocket to procure his favorite pen, waggling it in front of the girls. "I'm sure what I've read over the years could be of use to them."
Mayu chuckled. "If it's bedtime stories they wanted, they could have just asked me. Aren't you, like, five?"
"Twelve," Eliza amended. "He's actually pretty smart despite his appearance." Mishell smiled at this. "And his attitude." The smile fell off his face.
"Oh, can it Eliza," the child prodigy grumbled. He pocketed his pen and folded his arms. "So, is picnicking outside of the workshop Fayt's idea of work? If so, I'm mad I wasn't contracted sooner."
"We were just heading in," Mayu said, pulling Eliza up and retrieving her apron from beneath the other girl. She led the way back while unfastening her pink bandana and readjusting the long brown hair beneath it. The homunculi noticed the commotion and returned to orbit Eliza, peeking out over her shoulders at the new boy before raising their eyes to longingly gaze at Mayu's hair. Eliza stared them down and shook her head. They pouted but did not protest. Mishell eyed them inquisitively, and Eliza hoped he didn't ask her an obnoxiously difficult question about the mechanics of their creation. Before he had the opportunity, he stumbled forward with a gasp, closing his eyes and bracing himself for collision with the ground. Eliza dove down beneath him and when he opened his eyes he found himself cushioned by her bosom.
"Are you guys okay?" Mayu asked, kneeling down to inspect them for injury. The homunculi peered down from behind the dark-haired girl's head.
Visibly flustered, Mishell pushed himself away from Eliza and landed on the cushion of his bottom. He set his glasses straight.
"It's uneven here," Eliza muttered, remembering her own fall into Stanice earlier that day. She stood up by herself and bent over to drag Mishell up by his underarms, much like she would handle Ezra.
"Why on Elicoor are all these cobblestones missing?" Mishell grumbled irritably, his face still pink.
"Alchemy stuff." The blonde answered offhandedly.
Mayu laughed as she held the door open, ushering the Aquarians inside.
OOOOO
"I don't think we have any booster seats for you," Eliza joked as she led Mishell to the worktable. She grabbed one of Mackwell's thicker encyclopedias and set it in a char before gesturing for the boy to sit down. His feet did not reach the floor. She laughed but said nothing, pushing the chair to the table for him.
"And who is this little Mister?" Lear asked, just having noticed it was not only Eliza who joined the table. Mishell did not like her patronizing tone, but was more occupied with her beauty to be annoyed. Eliza pinched his arm from beneath the table, snapping him out of his dreamy stare. "Introduce yourself," she hissed.
He cleared his throat dramatically. "I am called… Mishell."
Eliza rolled her eyes.
"I am called Lear," she returned in kind, extending her hand to him with her palm towards the floor. He held it with both of his hands before lowering his head to kiss it. "And such a gentleman," she cooed. "Eliza has mentioned you before, but I did not know you were employed."
"My talents are just now in demand," he said, grey eyes dancing behind his glasses. Lear laughed politely.
It was then that Mackwell returned to the table, his sleeves rolled up exposing his runic tattoos and carrying a stone slab etched with runes, few of which Eliza recognized. He gently sat the slab down before staring down at Mishell, who looked quite comfortable on his only copy of Elemental Compatibility: Volume IV. "Did you really just bring a little playmate in to work?" he asked in exasperation, pressing to fingers to his forehead.
"Fayt hired him," Eliza said, shrugging. "Check for yourself if you don't believe me."
Mishell contemplated the man before his eyes lit up in recognition. "Hey, isn't he the—Ow! Eliza!"
The girl blinked innocently at the younger boy, but her fingers were resting soundly on his arm under the table and waiting for another reason to pinch.
Mackwell raised his eyebrows, intrigued. "I'm the what?"
"Nothing!" Eliza chirped, her cheeks warming.
"We seem to be doing a lot of that lately, haven't we?" Mackwell drawled. He had no interest in what Eliza thought or said about him, but he was amused she tried so hard to keep it a secret.
"Oh hush," Lear chided, tracing the rune carvings with her index finger. "This will do," she said pleasantly.
Mackwell rolled his eyes at her with little effort. He sat down and procured a notebook from his satchel under the table, flipping it open and thumbing through the pages until he found what he wanted. He placed the open book on the table and slid it over to Lear. "There's not much said about its execution, but the theory behind it seems solid enough."
Eliza peered at the runes on the paper, nothing they were identical to the ones on the slab Lear held. Void, life, earth… she mused. What are they making?
"It's the damndest thing though," Mackwell continued. "Most of the books on runological fusion and ancient runology have been missing for years."
Mishell glanced at Eliza with raised eyebrows. She held a finger to her lips.
"That's a shame," Lear said. "If the royal library no longer possesses that knowledge, no one would."
"The thieving bastard that ran off with them might know," Mackwell grumbled.
"What?" Eliza screeched, slamming her palms on the table and standing up to glare down at the seated Mackwell. Both he and Lear nearly jumped out of their seats. The workshop's other occupants observed the scene from behind their pots and pans, Mayu holding hers as if ready to strike at whatever beast made that horrible sound. When she deduced that it was Eliza, she lowered the cast-iron pan and stared at the other girl. Mishell did not so much as flinch, perhaps because he was used to Eliza's sudden outbursts, although typically they were exclamations of joy or inspiration.
"What?" Mackwell asked, concerned after momentary shock. "Did I say something wrong?"
The blonde girl looked back and forth between her coworkers before calmly seating herself.
Mishell was the next to speak. "I didn't think you'd react that way. I only wished to know the color of your underwear."
"Get out," Mackwell grit through pursed lips. "Both of you."
Although the older man had no right to dismiss them, Mishell did not want to stay and argue. He grabbed Eliza's hand and pulled her out the door with him. Curious, Mayu shelved her apron and followed.
OOOOO
"Thank you, Mishell," Eliza mumbled, blue eyes downcast as the boy led her to his fancy. Her boots scraped against the road lethargically.
"You're welcome," he returned, squeezing her hand lightly. "I'd hate to think what they'd say if they knew you had those books. The overdue fee would be exponential."
The alchemist chuckled. "I think you're just worried you wouldn't be able to read them if they were repossessed."
"That's true," the boy admitted, "but I also know they mean something to you."
"That's very sweet."
Flustered, Mishell unclasped their hands and whirled around to speak. "But I don't understand why, seeing as they don't have any pictures in them."
"Oh, ha ha," she drawled, moving to walk abreast to the boy.
"Hey, wait up!" Mayu called from behind them, trotting across the cobblestones with little trepidation. The two Aquarians did as they were asked before returning to their causal stride as the Glyphian joined them. "What happened back there?"
"It's a funny story…" Eliza began.
"Nothing." Mishell claimed at the same time.
Mayu raised her eyebrows. As they made their way to the main road, Eliza told Mayu about her mother and the library books. "The way I see it," she continued with a smile, "is I'll return them when I get accepted into the Runological School."
"I think she'd be better off weighting her application with blackmail," Mishell said. "I'm sure the Secret Legion will have a place for you."
Eliza laughed. "But I have to set a good example for my brother," she protested. "Besides, I don't think the books I have are the ones Mackwell and Lear want."
"Really? How come?" Mishell asked. Mayu, too, seemed interested. She glanced at Eliza and waited for her to speak.
"Well, you and I have gone through all the books on my shelf. I don't recall seeing anything like those runes in Mackwell's notebook, do you?"
"No," Mishell remarked, contemplative. "I didn't see many that were in our modern runic alphabet."
"Hmm," Mayu interjected, "if the books that Mackwell wanted were so important, then the idea of somebody else running off with them shouldn't be so hard to swallow."
"If that's truly the case, then I don't feel guilty," the alchemist chirped.
"Still," Mayu continued, "I admire your courage."
"Courage?" Mishell parroted incredulously.
Eliza, too, seemed perplexed.
"When you screamed at Mackwell like that," the cook elaborated. She had spent most of her life tiptoeing around her stern mother and the Black Brigade, and thus it was typical of her to suppress her rage.
Eliza tilted her head and contemplated the praise while Mishell burst into hysterical laughter, removing his glasses and wiping tears from his eyes. "That's not courage," he heaved between laughs, "That's Eliza being her obnoxious self."
The girl in question cuffed him upside the head, his straight, platinum hair following the force of her hand before falling back into place. "You are such a brat."
Still laughing (though softer than before), the boy rubbed the back of his head and put on his glasses. "You don't think he'll be mad at us forever, do you?" he asked sheepishly, more indicative of his age.
"Mackwell? No. He's been having a rough week," Eliza explained. "Today was just the reed that broke the lum's back."
"I suppose you had nothing to do with his prior irritation seeing as you cherish him so," Mishell remarked sarcastically.
"Mishell!" Eliza exclaimed, balling her fists.
"Oh, that's cute," Mayu chirped, smiling at how quickly the blonde girl blushed. "How long has this been going on?"
"Fooooorever," the boy crooned.
"Mishell!" Eliza screeched, moving forward to grab him. He ducked her arms and pulled ahead. "You little egg-headed blabbermouth!"
"It was an honest slip," he said. "I'm not used to it being more than the two of us."
"I'm sorry Eliza," Mayu said before she rested her hand on the girl's shaking shoulder. "I won't tell anyone. But, I must know…" she began, trotting forward to stand beside Mishell. "When's the wedding?"
Eliza's growl rivaled the outraged screech she produced in the workshop. Mayu bit her lip to hold in the laughter while Mishell ducked behind the cook's blue dress, fear outweighing amusement. He tugged on her sleeve, and she dipped down to hear him whisper: "We should run." His hand slid down to hers and she let him lead her through the twists and turns of the capital city.
OOOOO
"I feel bad now," Mayu said after she and Mishell stopped in an alleyway to catch their breaths.
"Don't. She's hilarious when she's angry." Mishell said, grinning.
Mayu frowned at him and he quickly masked his amusement. "You are a brat," she reiterated. He blushed and looked away. "Say," the girl continued, "now that the coast is clear would you mind showing me to the inn?" She reached into her dress pocket and retrieved a folded piece of paper. "Solon's Guidance," she read. "Rigel claimed the room above the workshop. That woman couldn't live without access to a kitchen," she added dourly.
"Oh, I know where that is," Mishell said. "It's real easy to find."
As they stepped out of the alley Mishell fiddled with his pen. "Solon is the god of clouds," he began.
"Oh," Mayu replied. "I'm not too familiar with the minor deities."
"A lot of the establishments here are named after the gods in the pantheon."
"You'd make a nice little tour guide should your writing contract fall through," Mayu tittered.
"Hey I'm just trying to make conversation."
"Why don't you tell me more about Eliza? It seems rather easy to step on her toes."
"She does have a bit of a short fuse," Mishell agreed, "but she's not very complicated. I've known her for as long as I can remember."
"You two seem close," Mayu commented.
"I guess we are." Shrugging, Mishell put his hands inside his pockets. He really only knew as much about Eliza as anybody who had spent a few moments in her presence. "She's a noisy alchemy student," he reiterated aloud.
Mayu laughed. "I gathered that much."
"I think that's all there is to know." He thought she would be beautiful some day, but he did not tell Mayu that.
OOOOO
Mishell held the door to the inn open for Mayu, who thanked him before stepping into the establishment.
"Oh, hello Mishell," Mr. Steno said. "Who is your lady friend?"
"This is Mayu," he said before the girl introduced herself. "She'll be needing a room."
"I was told guild members were given a discount here," the girl said as she shook Mr. Steno's extended hand.
"You heard right," the thin man replied, opening his ledger and writing down the girl's information. "May I interest the two of you in some tea while I prepare the room?" he asked while gesturing to a row of chairs that lined the wall behind a rectangular coffee table. In one of those chairs was a napping Eliza, whose cup of tea was still steaming. A blonde toddler sat on the floor in front of her, playing with building blocks on top of the table. Feeling eyes upon him, he glanced up to see Mishell and a girl he did not know.
"Mishew!" he exclaimed, setting the blocks down to totter over to the boy. Mishell took Ezra's tiny hand in his own and led him back to the table, taking the seat next to Eliza. She stirred, but did not wake. Mayu sat down to his left, pouring herself a cup of tea and looking down at Ezra.
"So cute. What's his name?" she asked Mishell.
"Ezra."
At the sound of his name, he turned to face the conversing pair. Mayu smiled at him and he beamed back.
"He'll be three this harvest if I remember correctly," the boy added.
"This many!" Ezra exclaimed, holding up three chubby fingers. Like his sister, he did not care much for inside voices.
Eliza's eyes snapped open at the shout, frantically looking for Ezra. Finding him just under her line of sight, she sighed in relief and relaxed back into the chair.
"Hello sleepyhead," Mishell sang.
"Shut up Mishell," Eliza grumbled, folding her arms over her eyes and yawning.
"'Iza sleepy," Ezra stated. She hummed in agreement.
"You came in late today, didn't you?" Mayu asked.
"Yeah," Eliza answered. "I was up all night thinking." She frowned, her furrowed eyebrows hidden under her yellow sleeves. "And a whole lot of good it did," she groused.
"What were you thinking about?" Mayu wondered.
"Mackwell!" Ezra answered.
"No!" she hissed, rocking forward to place a finger on her brother's lips.
Mayu swallowed a laugh while Mishell rolled his eyes behind the safety of his glasses.
"I was actually researching the Philosopher's Stone," she amended a-matter-of-factly.
Mishell almost choked on his tea while Mayu asked what that even was. Eliza pat him on the back none too gently while she answered the cook, "It's a magic stone that allows the wielder to forgo the law of equivalent exchange."
"That sounds neat," Mayu said.
"Well," Mishell began, "to understand how ridiculous that sounds, you have to know the principal rule of alchemy which is, and I quote, 'no product of alchemical transmutation may be greater than its birthing components.'"
"Oh."
"It's a magic stone that could never exist because that one rule is the foundation of all alchemy," Mishell explained.
Eliza made an irritated noise. "You and Mackwell are such killjoys."
"I'm sure Miss Lear believes the same," Mishell responded dryly.
"Yeah, yeah. She does," Eliza admitted. "But…" she began with trepidation, "Nevermind." She wasn't ready to share her suspicions about Lear, as she still felt guilty for even having them.
"Anyway, you shouldn't sleep now. If you do, you won't be able to sleep tonight," Mishell advised. "Or should I start fetching you in the morning?"
"Oh, I'll do whatever I want," Eliza hissed, reclining into the chair. Ezra crawled onto her lap and she held him close.
"The Philosopher's Stone… How exciting," Mayu mused, thinking about the alchemists and their work. "I'll have to start sitting in on your research when I have the time."
The table would be awfully crowded if you did, Eliza thought as she lost herself to sleep, but I wouldn't mind at all.
OOOOO
Comments: Oh hey an update. This was fun to write. Thanks for reading this far. Comments appreciated.