Last week's solution: No charge after people finally lose pen (7)d: The Flamel Times. = Enclose+d
Amestrian National Military Academy — Central City.
Saturday Morning 0700 hours, March 10 th 1904.
It had been a complete fluke that he'd received Riza's letter that morning. Mail call was usually a delayed process, one that came after everyone's mail had been sorted and delivered, business first and personal second. But the March 1st Incident had thrown a kink in the works of the Academy's mail system. Deliveries had been going in and out with rapid fire - the most important military communiques having been rushed through as fast as could be handled, but everything else was being put on hold. The air around the mess hall had been tense and markedly frustrated as personal letters were slowly rolled out and given to the cadets. Everyone with connections in Eastern had news to share, and a letter from someone — everyone except Roy.
That was, until Hughes had slipped his envelope postmarked from Flamel onto the mess hall table for Roy's benefit over breakfast. Then, it had taken seconds for him to rip viciously into the spine of the envelope, rending its contents onto the table beside his bowl of oatmeal and cup of weak coffee.
"Whoa, calm down there, Mustang." Hughes said in surprise. "It's just a letter. It's not going anywhere." He added, face clearly expressing that he believed it was too early to be acting so quickly, despite the fact that during the week they got up much earlier.
"Not now, Hughes." Roy snapped, hands flipping the newspaper clipping over to examine the print closely. The clipping was not news on its own; the city of Egremont was close enough to the border that it had been prone to a riot here and there. There had been protests, and a refreshed injection of additional soldiers stationed in the city. Things seemed like they could be under control, and then one of the buildings had been blown up, killing a handful of soldiers, and injuring dozens more. The ones who survived, if they were lucky, could be fitted with automail. The rest…
His gaze fell over the one familiar name he could pick out in the article. There had been a reason for Riza to send it, after all. Christopher. Roy knew the name, but his mind took a moment longer to connect it to the girl he knew; then finally it made sense. Her roommate's fiancé was dead. There was no worse thing that could possibly happen, and Roy felt his lungs constrict as if he'd had the wind knocked out of him.
Her letters had been concise before, but this was different. The puzzle felt like a half-hearted afterthought, and it ended midway through her own words. Riza could be economical in her statements, the same way Roy could be, when he wasn't talking about alchemy, but this was more than that. Roy glared down at the date she'd hastily begun to write out, and then frowned. March 10th was today. But what had she meant to say?
Pulling the article beside her letter, he paused to read it through again, eyes falling on the sentence. 'The funeral will be March 10th, here in Flamel at the Church of Balthan, at noon."
He needed to be there.
"Hughes, what times do the trains East leave?" Roy asked suddenly, as Hughes scooped orange pulp from its skin.
He paused, and then swallowed. "Next one's probably at 0800 hours. Most of the major hubs are on the hour, you know," He trailed off as Roy stood up suddenly, pushing back from the table, and hastily grabbing his letter, its contents, and his tray. "—What are you doing?"
"I have to go." Roy said, sweeping the letter and article into his pocket, along with the envelope. "I'll see you later."
"Oy, Mustang, you can't just take leave without-"
"-Hughes!" Roy snapped. "I need to go send a telegram. I'll be back later." He'd stood up, hastily taking the tray with him. It took less than a moment for Hughes to join him, scrambling after Roy's footsteps.
"What the hell?" He said, at Roy's heels, as they dumped their trays off, and stormed out of the mess hall. "What do you need to send a telegram for?"
"I need to leave Central, I'll be back later. Maybe tonight, maybe tomorrow." Roy said quickly, veering off towards the dorms. He needed to pack, needed to have something on hand for the train ride. When he found his way to his bed, Roy ripped open his drawers and pulled out his knapsack, stuffing the thing with a change of clothes and his wallet while Hughes hovered at his side.
"Are you going to at least give me a reason why you're leaving? You know, something I can tell the commanders if you suddenly don't show up for whatever reason?" Hughes asked impatiently, settling down on his bed. Without looking, Roy knew his friend's look was a confused one, but he didn't feel like he had the time or ability to explain himself. Maybe later. Maybe after he got to Flamel, Roy could begin to explain the reasons why he had to go. This wasn't someone he knew personally, the funeral itself was none of his business, but Riza—
—Riza wouldn't ask for him even if she needed him to be there. And yet, he could feel it written into her letter, pulling at him the same way she might have if she was right there.
"Just make something up. Family emergency, or something. Look, it's the weekend. If they care, tell them I went out. I'll be back before Monday."Cover for me, Roy's eyes said.
Maes blinked, and something imperceptible crossed his features before he nodded. "Fine. You owe me."
Relief flooded Roy, and he slung his sack over his shoulder, nodding. "I do." With that, he left the barracks, Hughes muttering something behind him as the door shut.
The trip to the transportation center was a relatively short one, and Roy managed to buy a relatively inexpensive one way ticket that would transfer him all the way to the city of Flamel on the hour. It left a little time, but not much for him to send a brief telegraph, which he had paid a fair bit of the price of his ticket to send. It was then that he felt a rush of gratitude for the pocket change his mother's business had given him. If the expense was worth it, the money had always been there to spare. And if the person in charge of the telegrams at Central Station thought his message was unusual, he said nothing.
RIZA HAWKEYE
COMING TO FLAMEL TODAY (STOP) SEE YOU SOON (STOP)
R MUSTANG
