The address had to be the same. After all, Damia was not informed of such a change when receiving various notes and letters from Dante. Bernard sat on the bus travelling from the city he lived in, Wasserford, to the neighboring city, Neu Landen. He looked out the window. Neu Landen was definitely a small city in need of some serious urban revival. The once beautiful and ornately-detailed houses were now multi-family complexes whose tenants left the fine building materials to rot instead of preserving them.
What a shame, Bernard thought. He could remember when many of those houses were built. All around the same decade of the 1820's the Wasserford/Neu Landen metro area received a large economic boom because of the construction of the East Central military base. At that time, Neu Landen was considered to be the posh and more desirable neighbor because it was situated around not only a large lake but a river perfect for water-powered mills. It was the "urban resort" to man Amestrian government and upper-military officials who did not want to live near the base in Wasserford and wanted to build big houses near the lake for their families. At the same time, businessmen were taking advantage of mill construction and expansion along the river, only to bring in more wealthy home builders.
When this development was going on, the only slummy areas of Neu Landen were the row houses situated near the river for the mill workers and their families to live in. But, from Bernard's recollection, even those neighborhoods were not all that bad. He did not remember them being particularly filthy. The only trouble occurring there consisted of petty thievery and drunks. However, during the 1820's he and Damia were attending university at Wittenberg. The school was situated on the outskirts of the lakeside area of Neu Landen, so all he and Damia would have seen for the most part would have been the wealthiest of the city's residents if they ventured into town. But still, when they decided to go near the river at times, they never encountered any problems.
Bernard sighed. He looked around him on the bus. Luckily, no military personnel or their children were riding with him. The reason why Neu Landen disintegrated so gradually was because it became a living area for low-ranking military families. The development of the East Central base that gave the city such an economic boom became its undoing after the turn of the century. It did not take too long after real estate tycoons decided to make money off of turning the big houses into low-income multi-family housing projects to slam the city past the threshold of no return. As he shifted his gaze back to glancing out the window, Bernard saw some ratty kids on the sidewalk mooning and flashing obscene hand gestures at the bus.
Bernard smiled and shook his head. He personally found it hilarious that the reason his mother chose to find a residence in the remaining higher-class neighborhood by the lake was because she knew that Hoenheim would most likely not trudge through the slums to approach her.
Yes, that is Hoenheim Elric, Bernard thought. The type of person who would run and hide from his problems and at the same time avoid surrounding himself with the very lost causes he proposed to support.
As he continued to look out the window, the bus passed another group of kids who blew raspberries and flashed what appeared to be an apery of gang symbols.
Lost causes like Neu Landen, He continued to think. Neu Landen – the epitome of how people can destroy something that was once beautiful. Just like the citizens of Xerxes destroyed the beautiful lives that Damia and I had …
He shook his head.
"Lost causes …" he muttered under his breath to himself.
Lost causes like Damia and that drove Dad to get involved with that woman, I suppose, Bernard thought. After all the years – decades – the three of us spent together going from town to town, country to country, he still in the end saw us as lost causes. He still found the need to replace us … and to replace our mother.
He noticed the slummy neighborhood blending away into a clean, middle-class section of the city. In only a matter of five or six minutes the bus would reach its final stop a few blocks away from the lake.
Bernard smiled and thought, After almost two centuries, he chose to desert us. But after almost two centuries of not seeing Damia and I, Mom told us that we were welcome to stay with her if we wanted to.
"You're both free to stay here," he remembered Dante saying when he and Damia sought her out after leaving Resembool. "Just don't come here expecting any outside attention that you might crave. I have my own life, as you both well know, so there will be no family occasions of sipping hot cocoa by the fire and telling stories."
He laughed softly to himself upon remembering his mother's words. His memory then flashed to Damia's reaction to the hot cocoa comment: shaking her head ever so slightly as she smiled, holding back laughter.
After two hundred years, she never changed, not one bit, Bernard thought. Damia was right. It is a good idea to go visit Mother for a while. I may be the spare and not the heir in her eyes, but at least I feel secure that, in her mind, no one can replace me.
After he got off the bus at the stop near the lake, Bernard walked about two miles into the high-class neighborhood to reach the somewhat secluded residence where Dante lived. Her current house was smaller than almost all of the buildings in the neighborhood and was situated down a twisted road off of the road encircling the lake. Bernard always assumed that Fuhrer Bradley probably set her up with a "lakeside cottage" that his family owned. Either that or it was part of a set of assets owned by some old ex-mill owner who died and Dante bought it. She was doing extraordinarily well for herself, for she received a government salary because she was legally hired by Bradley as an Assistant on Amestrian-Galicjan Affairs. At least that was what Dante told Damia.
Bernard walked up to the front door. He was about to knock until he noticed that there was a sleek black car in the driveway. It appeared to be the newer model of the small two-person Saabenz autos that people with significant funds were able to afford.
The new model? Bernard thought. I understand why you'd want to drive to Wasserford instead of being picked up by one of Bradley's chauffeurs, Mom, but really? I never expected you to become one of those auto enthusiasts.
He knocked on the door. After about a minute of waiting, the door was finally opened by Dante. From the way she appeared, at least it did not seem like she was doing something important and was interrupted by his visit.
"Didn't you have a key?" was the first thing to come out of her mouth.
"No," he replied. "When I left, Damia said she had it at work. I think she keeps it in that State Alchemist pocket-watch and just stuffed it in her office somewhere."
"Hm, the pocket-watch …" Dante said somewhat pensively.
"What do you mean?"
"Nothing, just the pocket-watch," she replied. "Well, get inside. It's too warm out there."
Bernard entered the nicely-furnished living room and took a deep breath of fresh, cool air. Just like always in the warmer months when he was younger, Dante would set up some sort of internal circulation using Wind Alchemy to cool down the air. It was like being encompassed in a steam bath of crisp, refreshing, fall air as opposed to the type of stuffy, sweaty saunas that many people tended to enjoy.
"It's very convenient that you showed up today, Bernard," Dante said. "I'm going to want to talk to you in a little while. But, I'm finishing up something right now so just don't bother me. You know where the kitchen is if you want any food." She smirked slightly and added, "Since I assume that Damia still doesn't keep much besides beer, bread, and apples in her apartment."
Bernard laughed. It was true that they both just kept some basic breakfast food on-hand. Damia always got food at the base commissary and he tended to bring home food from the deli after his shifts.
"She's added dried figs and almonds to the mix," he said.
His mother shook her head and rolled her eyes. "Whatever. Just keep yourself occupied until I'm finished in the other room."
After Dante left, Bernard began to quietly take a look around the large living room. He walked over to the left side, where impressive floor-length windows stood on the wall. One of these panel-like windows was actually a door leading to a modest patio outside. Barnard peered outside to see that the patio was very clean, but probably not frequented much since it was now summertime. Knowing Dante, she most likely remained in her Wind-Alchemy-icebox of a house and relaxed with imported Ouzo on the patio after dark. He smirked and moved away from the windows as he perused the area of the living room along the wall.
The next attention-grabbing item he encountered was a nice cedar desk. The beautiful auburn color of the wood caught his eye and he just had to take a look at it. But, Bernard's attention on the fine cedar was short-lived when he curiously opened one of the front drawers to find what he recognized as alchemy gloves. He gasped silently and put his hand to his mouth. What lay before him were two pairs of children's alchemy gloves, one pair with the transmutation circle for "Water" on them and the other one with the transmutation circle for "Light". Bernard recognized these to be the first pairs of alchemy gloves that he and Damia were given for their specializations. He reached in the drawer and gingerly took the two pairs in his hands.
I can't believe it, Bernard thought. She still has these? They survived after all of these years? Damia and I got our gloves on our eighth birthdays … these are over two hundred years old!
With the question in his mind of what else Dante may have kept, Bernard placed the gloves on the top of the desk and looked in the drawer again. This time, he found a group of old papers bound together tightly with a twine rope. He was not going to risk untying the papers so instead he just read what was written on the top sheet. As he read, his eyes popped open wide and he smiled. Written on this page was a set of observation notes made by Dante in reference to the alchemic performances of her son and daughter. Bernard softly chuckled when he read one of the notes about Damia: "Yesterday was flawless, but today you're making CMSMs."
CMSM, He thought. I know that acronym … Commonly Made Stupid Mistakes. So Damia made stupid mistakes, eh?
He read the next note which happened to be related to him: "Bernard, you must be joking. I've seen you do this before without thinking. Stop thinking and just do it!"
Bernard smirked and shook his head. He knew exactly what his mother's observation meant. When he was younger, he did have the tendency to over-think his actions regarding alchemy. He could recollect how, on many occasions when Hoenheim would venture into lecturing him about "becoming one with the sun", that he would drift off in thought about what Damia and Dante were probably doing. Whenever his father began to bore him, Bernard would get distracted by the occasional splashing sounds coming from the river due to Damia's training.
"They're both on an off-day today. Oh well. That happens," Bernard muttered what Dante's conclusion for the date of April 7, 1710 was.
So Mom found flaws and successes in both of us, He thought. Maybe I shouldn't be surprised to read that Damia wasn't perfect, but …
Upon hearing a door close in one of the other rooms, Bernard put the stack of notes back in the drawer.
I better put these back exactly as I found them, He thought as he placed the pairs of gloves back on top of the notes and quietly shut the drawer. I don't think she'd be angry or even say anything if she knew that I went in her desk, but I don't want to go there.
Bernard smiled as a convenient truth occurred to him.
If she leaves the house, I can snoop around a little while she's gone, He thought. She can't stay here all the time if she's doing work at East Central with Bradley. I wonder if she kept anything in relation to my father. He always acted as if Mom never existed once the three of us left after Damia and I used the red stone. Did she decide to think the same way?
Bernard made his way away from the desk and plopped himself in a chair. He positioned himself as if he had been sitting there and waiting for Dante since she told him she was going to speak with him. He nestled himself comfortably in the soft leather and swung his legs over one of the chair's arms. Wondering where his mother could be, Bernard tilted his head back to see a few Galicjan nesting dolls on a shelf just within his reach behind the chair. As he heard some footsteps reach the kitchen, he grabbed one of the nesting dolls and began to fool around with it.
No, I don't think these are the same ones Damia and I played with as kids, Bernard thought as he examined the toy.
A few moments later, Dante approached him in the chair and said, "Don't break that. It's an antique. I got it imported before this damn country stole part of Galicja's northwest territory." When Bernard looked up, surprised that the figure was so old but not one of the ones he remembered from childhood, she swiftly but gingerly took the nesting doll from his hand and returned it to its place on the shelf. "What do you think? That I wouldn't have bought imported goods before the current conflict between here and Galicja? Do you know that I can't even buy Galicjan liquor? God, I can't wait until –" She abruptly halted her statement.
"Until what?" Bernard asked after a beat of silence passed.
There was a very slight delay in time before she replied with, "Until Amestris finally gets some sense and stops stealing foreign territories." Before Bernard could say anything else, she continued with, "Anyway, get up. I need you to check something for me on a plant. Follow me."
As Dante began to walk away toward the small hallway leading to various rooms in the back as well as to a staircase, Bernard swung himself out of the leather chair and followed. She led him up the stairs where there were two larger rooms, one on the left and one on the right, as well as a bathroom in between the two. She took a left and brought him to a room that seemed to have been converted into a sort of mini-greenhouse, in the sense that it was filled with plants of all kinds. It was the perfect room for such an operation, however. Nearly one of the walls extending to the ceiling was completely comprised of window panels. If there was a place to grow plants indoors but still have the ability to provide them ample sunlight, this room was the place to do so.
"It's this one," Dante said as she brought her son over to a rosebush. "Since you're here, I figured you could make sure that the plant is absorbing enough sunlight. I tried to place it at what seemed to be the strongest angle here but it still may not be enough." She shrugged and gently caressed a petal on one of the roses. "It's nearly impossible for this species of rose to survive too well up here in Amestris. It's native to southern Romana but the color is so exquisite that I had to try. I've never seen roses with such a color pattern … a royal purple with splatters of periwinkle …"
Bernard laughed. "They are beautiful," he said. "The splatters look like a toddler threw periwinkle paint on a purple canvas, but in such a way that someone would buy the painting as an example of modern abstract art."
Dante smirked. "I do see what you mean. When I saw them in the catalog they reminded me of the messes you and Damia used to make with paints. But anyway, just perform an assessment on the plant for me. Some of the roses don't seem to be doing all too well. A Light Alchemist like yourself may be able to see a solution that my frame of reference is missing."
Bernard knelt next to the rosebush and looked up toward the sunlight. He placed his hands in front of him with his palms facing the sun's rays and slowly moved his hands in the direction of one of the duller roses. He repeated the process with the other few that were also dull and nodded. Bernard then felt the direction and strength of the rays which applied to the two roses that were vibrant and perfect. After having the chance to make the comparison between the succeeding roses and the failing ones, he got up and looked toward the window.
"I think it may be the glass," he said. "When the sunlight tries to come through the window, the type of glass in those windows reflects the rays in such a way that their direction is then skewed. The roses that are doing well are probably able to do so for two reasons: they're higher up in the bush than the others so they have a better chance at grabbing the sunlight and I would guess that because of their placement that they may steal some energy and vitamins from the other flowers. But don't quote me on my second theory. If you want someone to do a vitamin-absorption analysis, you'll need to get Damia over here."
Dante looked toward the windows and then back to her rosebush. "Then what do you suggest I do, Bernard? Nag Damia to come over here with you next weekend so you two can do a pre-death autopsy on my plant?"
He laughed. "No, not at all. And don't try replacing those windows, either. I'd suggest you lug that plant downstairs and place it by those big long windows by your patio. Then maybe see what happens if you put it outside on the deck for a while. Maybe alternate in and out and see how it goes. It won't make the roses worse. Whether it'll help or not I'm not sure but hey, it's worth a try." He smiled and pointed at some of his mother's vines that were flourishing in the upstairs room. "But those seem to be doing a fantastic job! Maybe you should grow some vine vegetables in here. You know, squash, tomatoes, cucumbers … I vouch for cucumbers."
"… Cucumbers …" Dante responded. She took a breath and walked over to the large window. She stood in the sunlight as she looked out the window. As her body blocked some of the incoming light, it seemed to reflect its way around her, causing bright rays of sun to shine along the outline of her physique. It was almost echoing of a religious painting, with Dante's body being substituted for that of the Messiah.
Bernard did not understand the sudden silence. Could his mother really be so pensive toward how to properly raise a Romanese rosebush in the Amestrian climate? He took a step forward.
"Bernard …" she began once she sensed her son's aura approaching her. "How is Damia doing? I haven't seen her since she was assigned her Occupational Partner. Is she faring all right?"
He shrugged as he continued to make his way closer to Dante. "She's fine," he replied. "She's been busy but she's not really having any problems." He was only a couple steps behind his mother when he added, "I mean, she's not really sure where that Bradley is coming from, but –"
Bernard halted his speech when his mother's head snapped to her right to look at him. Her grey eyes held a piercing, yet not menacing gaze as the bright sunlight continued to reflect off of her wavy, light ash blonde hair.
"… but Damia gives the impression that no one at East Central seems particularly happy with Fuhrer Bradley …" Bernard finished slowly and cautiously.
Dante's eyes softened and she began to peer out the window once again. Her shoulders rose and fell as she took a deep breath. A few moments of silence passed. Although the silence was not containing a formidable tension, the air in the room was becoming thick and uncomfortable.
"Do you think that perhaps I should clip off a few of the smaller, dull rosebuds on my plant, Bernard?" she asked. "That way, maybe those two at the top can continue to thrive without the hassle of toting the bush downstairs."
Bernard did not know how to respond at first. He could tell that there was most likely a double entendre concerning what his mother was talking about. However, his mind was not necessarily in the mood to play such a game of metaphors at this point in time.
To her son's silence, Dante added, "Or maybe I could leave the smaller ones and clip off one of the big ones. Then I'll have one big rose at the top and the little ones can have a chance to replenish without the two dominant roses sucking up all of the power. What do you think?"
"Well, I don't see why you'd snip off one of the big ones, Mom," Bernard replied. "I mean, the two at the top are certainly doing well and the small ones … well, they're already pretty close to goners. If you want to clip any off for the energy conservation you mentioned, I'd say to choose some of the small ones that look the most wilted." He shrugged. "Then maybe if the light on the patio downstairs is helpful, there will be less competition for the remaining small roses to try and bloom better."
"Hmm …" she said. "So, the two big ones seem to be pretty good partners at this point. You don't see either of them causing any annoyances to the others?"
I wish she'd stop playing this game, Bernard thought. I don't want to play it. I can only give advice about the plant. The botany. Not what she's choosing to make the plant represent.
Wanting to bang his head against the wall, he replied, "I gave you my opinion based on what I know of botany and based on surveying the rosebush with Light Alchemy. If you're so caught in a bind, why don't you just experiment with bringing the rosebush downstairs and putting it outside on the patio for a while?" After a short break in speech, he added, "Whatever decision you decide to make may not be your ideal for this growing season, but it won't kill the plant. I guess from what happens this year, you can take that experience and apply it to next summer."
Dante turned to face him and smirked. "You might have a point," she said. "1916 is only one year, but I have all the time in the world."
He nodded. "Yeah,"
He now desperately wanted to leave the matter of the rosebush behind. Now his mother was hinting at her own immortality, however she acquired it. Bernard was not sure if he wanted to know just how his mother apparently had not aged since the year of his resurrection, 1717. Granted, he had his suspicions. Currently, what seemed to make the most sense was that when she destroyed Xerxes, Dante somehow acquired the life-spans of the citizens. But, Bernard was definitely not going to even come close to inquiring about the subject. In a way, he did not want to have a validation that, in theory, the citizens of Xerxes were still "alive" by contributing to Dante's life-span. He even refused to converse with Damia about the matter, for he assumed that if anyone knew the truth of Dante's permanent age of forty-two that it would be Damia.
"Well, Bernard," Dante began. "I think I will try what you suggested regarding the plant." She walked over toward the rosebush and squatted beside it. "But since you're here, do you think you could lug it downstairs for me?" she asked with an impish gleam in her eyes nearly identical to the gleam sometimes present in Damia's eyes. "You're taller. And younger. You're only twenty-three, am I correct?"
"Yup," he said.
How the hell am I gonna get that thing downstairs without falling and breaking my neck? Bernard asked himself.
Dante stood up. "Good. We have a plan," she said. "You can bring the plant down by the patio and I'll see if I can find something with wheels to put underneath it. It'll make moving it from indoors to outdoors so much easier."
Bernard let out a somewhat sarcastic chuckle as he watched his mother leave the room and head downstairs. He looked at the rosebush and began to approach it, studying its dimensions to figure out the best way to try and carry it.
Aren't you cute, Mom, playing the "oh, I'm so old; I'm forty-two" card … He thought with a smirk. Just remember that if Damia and I didn't use that red stone to age and I was still sixteen that I wouldn't be taller than you yet. Well, let's get this load downstairs.
The best plan was to take his time carrying the rosebush and to use alchemy to make the steps on the staircase longer. This way, Bernard could take the plant down one step at a time. Such a method prevented the hazard of slipping down the stairs and breaking his neck holding an awkward load. Although he was a Homunculus, breaking his neck could possibly be a situation leading to vanishment. If vanishment was caused by the soul disconnecting from its immortal host body, any way that could cease the brain from sending its signals to the entire body posed a risk to a Homunculus' existence.
It took a bit of time for Bernard to complete his task. He had to find a piece of chalk and draw the appropriate transmutation circle on each step in order to use alchemy to extend them. After that, it took him a good fifteen minutes to get the rosebush down the stairs. Bernard then returned Dante's staircase to its original state before toting the plant over to the large windows by the patio. When he completed his task, he took a sigh of relief and plopped himself in the same leather chair he sat in earlier that day.
In about five to ten minutes, Dante entered from the patio entrance. She glanced over to a clock on the wall and then looked outside again. It was about four-thirty in the afternoon.
"Were you planning to stay overnight?" she asked.
"If it's not a problem, I was going to stay for a couple weeks," Bernard replied. "I was able to get some time off from work because there are all of these university students home for the summer."
Dante nodded. "That's fine. I told you and Damia six years ago that you can stay here as long as you want as long as you don't get in my way." She looked beside her to see the rosebush nicely placed by one of the large windows where it could receive more than adequate sunlight. "I found some materials to use and try to put together a sort of rolling plank," she added. "They're outside arranged together in that shed back there but I don't feel like bothering with that today. We'd have to use so much traditional alchemy to assemble it all properly and I'm not in the mood for drawing transmutation circles."
"I agree," Bernard commented. After having to draw a circle on every step on the staircase, he was not particularly enthusiastic about drawing any more at the time.
A moment of silence passed before Dante asked him if there was anything in particular that he wanted for dinner since he would not be eating Commissary food that evening.
Bernard smiled and laughed a little. "Maybe a stew since it's cool enough in here for that. The Commissary only sells salads, sandwiches, noodles … nothing with liquid."
"That's not a bad idea," Dante said. "There's a farmer's market on the other side of the lake with wonderful vegetables. I think they might even have those red carrots."
Bernard beamed. The red carrots he and Damia sometimes got a hold of when they lived in Resembool were the sweetest, most decadent breed of carrot he had ever tasted.
"Come on, get in the Saabenz," Dante said as she whisked her keys out of her pocket and began to walk to the main door. "We can get what you want for the stew and when we get back you can put it together while I finish looking over some things."
He got up from the chair and joined his mother by the door. "I assume you'll want some of the stew, too?" he asked.
With blank eyes not desiring to dignify the question she found to be so stupid, she replied with a dry sarcasm, "No, Bernard, I'm leaving you here with your stew and taking a vacation up north in the Norda Province because it's too hot here this time of year." She opened the door and led him outside before exiting herself and locking the door behind her. "Of course I want some of the stew so make sure you add that lovage seasoning to it." As they walked to the Saabenz in the driveway, Dante added, "I think I have some spiked cider in the refrigerator. If you want, we can have some of that, too."
In a jesting response to his mother's sarcastic teasing regarding in is query of whether or not she was interested in eating the stew, Bernard said with a smirk, "Spiked cider, huh? Am I sensing the Lubelczyk version of 'hot cocoa by the fire'? Now, I thought I wasn't supposed to expect such an invitation being over here."
Dante laughed and unlocked the doors of the car. She and Bernard both entered and sat down. Dante ignited the vehicle and began to back out of the driveway.
"I doubt you expected that I'd invest in the new Saabenz, either," she said as she began to drive down the road. "Never expect anything, Bernard. Life is full of surprises. Life is full of adaption. Life is full of reinvention."
No, not the metaphor game, Bernard thought.
He opened the window of the car and began to comment on some of the boats docked ever so nicely in the lake. He began to tell Dante a story that Damia told him during the previous summer. In a way, the reason it occurred was quite humorous. Last summer during the period of time when the elite members of the Military Academy Youth Program did some training at the East Central base, Damia and the Armstrong siblings all took a week off at the same time. Even though none of them mentioned it when requesting their vacation time, all three of them planned to stay at the Armstrong's lake cottage to "get away from the Summer Program brats". Anyway, this experience with Olivier and Alex left Damia with an appreciation for boats after she and Olivier disturbed the lakeside community by zooming around the lake in one of the speedboats.
Luckily for Bernard, Dante reveled in the story, hence ending any possibility of the continuation of one of her "Metaphor Games". She could not stop laughing as she drove them to the farmer's market. Once they arrived, she took a breath and composed herself.
"So that was Damia," she spoke almost proudly and with a smile. "I should have figured that out with the mini-whirlpools I heard people complain about."