And All Manner Of Things Shall Be Well
Disclaimer: I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist, I just like to play in it's world for awhile and occasionally torture the characters - usually Edward. But I do own any OCs I've created for this story.
Summary: After a horrible dream, Edward sets off to get some work done while Ian catches heck for not leaning on Ed hard enough.
This chapter has not been beta-ed. If you wish to take on the thankless task of being an "after beta", please send me a message.
Warning: Minor spoilers scattered thoroughout this story.
Chapter Twenty-five: In which secrets are revealed while others are simply pried loose.
Lost in thought, Ian drove reflexively through the morning Londonium traffic towards Paddington Gardens. Best to tackle Elric before he got it in his head to go haring off on his own. He really hoped Hetty hadn't let him have too much coffee, Edward had been ready to go bouncing off the walls when in the grip of yesterday's caffeine buzz. But when he turned into the pleasant square Edward called 'home' and saw Hetty standing by the gate, a curse tumbled from his lips.
Elric had already breakfasted, dressed and left. Yet from the smile on the lips of his best operative, Ian knew she had 'information' which came in the form of a folded over piece of note paper. When Edward had gone back to his bedroom, Hetty had hoped he would leave the note next to his plate long enough for her to scan and memorize it. But he took it with him and dashed those hopes, yet all was not lost. Once she heard the bedroom door shut, Hetty approached the note pad which had carelessly been left lying on the table.
She took a pencil from her apron pocket andcarefully rubbed the long end over the top page. Fortunately, Colonel Elric had a heavy hand and he had pressed hard while writing, so his memo showed up clearly. When Edward passed through the dining room again, his mind was busy with the tasks he had set himself, he barely registered the cleared table, much less the note pad back at it's place by the phone with one sheet less than he'd left it with.
Ian quickly scanned the note and his lips quirked at the title:
Dumb Things I Have To Do Today
1) Visit Amestrian Embassy viz Drachma and Call Mustang viz Drachma
2) Visit Alchemist Society viz contacts and C. harassment
3) Warn Alphonse viz threats to alchemists, plus talk to B.
Damn and blast! Ian swore softly to himself. There was no way he would be allowed into the Amestrian embassy without a prior appointment, which meant there was only one thing for it then. "Good job, Mother Hen!" he called to Hetty and then put his car into gear. When he drove past the embassy a few moments later, Elric wasn't in sight, this meant he was probably inside the 'secure room' now and on a hotline that ran directly to the Fuhrer's desk.
Ian drove past 'Embassy Row', each building a small plot of sovereign nation with each country's flag flying proudly over it's entrance: Amestris, Meso-America, Alhambra, Caledonia, Eira, Cymru, Roma, Creta, Aurego, Drachma, Redland, Bourbon, Samovar-Troika, Xing, and so on. He turned the corner and drove two more blocks then stopped and parked in front of a non-descript looking office building of faded red brick. But that was just it's front. In the lobby Ian showed his MI-7 warrant card to a pretty receptionist and said "Mr. Graves to see Mr. Steele, please."
"Just one moment sir, I'll ring and tell him you are coming."
She picked up a black phone receiver, dialed two numbers and spoke in code. "Mr Steele? Mr. Graves is here to see you sir."
The answer on the other end must have been in the affirmative for she replied, "I'll send him over directly, sir."
She hung up the receiver and beamed at Ian. "Mr. Steele is waiting for you Mr. Graves. Take elevator five, please."
A bank of three elevators was a few feet behind the reception desk, Ian entered elevator two, punched a button marked with the numeral 'eight' and spun around to face the lobby as the doors closed and the elevator rose smoothly to the top floor of the building. Thirty seconds later, a bell softly sounded when the elevator arrived on the seventh floor but opening doors revealed the car was empty. A man waiting for the elevator got on and punched a button to go back down to the lobby. He too faced the front so he never noticed the back wall of the elevator was actually a set of cleverly concealed doors.
After the front doors of elevator two had closed, these second doors had opened and Ian stepped through into elevator five, a secret high-speed car which whisked him directly to the nerve center of MI-7's foreign surveillance operation. What the staff of each embassy didn't know was, their secure phone lines weren't really secure - not only were they tapped, but software had been secretly installed to disable scrambling devices, and all the codes had been broken.
Keep your friends near.
The room was large and round, encircled with banks of desks mimicking the circular pattern, each desk had a person wearing headphones sitting at it. The headphones were attached to large black metal boxes, their faces covered with dials and blinking lights, these were the recording machines. Each operator also had a pad of lined yellow paper in front of them in which they were scribbling summaries of each call. The room was cool and the lighting low, the only sounds were the scratchings of pens overlaying the faint hum of many voices in different languages.
A middle aged woman dressed in a nut brown houndstooth skirt suit came forward to greet Ian. "Ah, Mr. Graves, what can I do for you?"
"Hello Mr. Steele, I need to hear what is being said by the Amestrians."
"The Amestrians?" 'Mr. Steele' cocked a well plucked eyebrow. "What ever for? They are really quite boring, they hardly ever keep their scramblers up to date or change their code words, not worth bothering with in my opinion."
Ian smiled and shook his head. What would Elric say to the charge his country was 'boring'? "No, Mr. Steele, the Amestrian embassy, I need to listen to a phone call which was recently placed."
'Mr. Steele' looked disappointed. "A waste of your time, Mr. Graves - now the Drachmans," she said, brigthening to her subject. "They are a challenge, they change their code words and scramblers once a week, sneaky little buggers."
"Thank you for the offer, but no Mr. Steele."
Knowing she was defeated, 'Mr. Steele' sighed. "All right dearie, what do you need?"
"A phone call was placed this morning from an Edward Elric at the Amestrian embassy to Roy Mustang in Central, Amestris."
'Mr. Steele's' face lit up, "You want to listen to the Fuhrer? My, you don't play about, do you Mr. Graves?"
At Ian's unchanging expression, she sighed again and flapped her hand in the air. "Oh, you're no fun anymore Mr. Graves. Come this way please."
She turned and led Ian past the banks of desks, the operators still scribbling away, the sound still underlain by the hum of hundreds of supposedly private conservations being eavesdropped upon. The sound faded away after 'Mr. Steele' opened a nondescript metal door and ushered Ian through. They walked down a short hallway painted in what Ian privately called 'Government Green', and he stopped when she did before another ordinary door, wooden this time. After pulling a ring of keys from one pocket, she unlocked the door, leaned in to flip on a light switch and said crisply "Just put on the headphones and when the operator comes on, tell her which phone call you wish to listen to. There's pens and a pad of paper on the table."
Then she turned on her heel and left, closing the door behind her. Ian looked around the room, it was small and perfectly square, the walls painted in 'Bureaucrat Brown'. It contained a small square wooden table and an uncomfortable-looking chair of the same dark brown wood. Upon the table sat a rectangular black metal box, a twin to the recorders in the other room, it's faced covered with dials, switches, and lights. A set of headphones was plugged into a jack in the middle of it and to one side of the machine was a black metal tray with a half dozen pads of lined yellow paper on it. A slot beneath the tray held several blue pens.
He sat down at the table and slipped the headphones on over his ears, then flipped a switch on the metal box to the 'on' position. A light above it glowed green and a pleasant female voice came throught the headphones. "Which call please?"
"Amestrian Embassy, Elric to Mustang, thank you."
"One moment please"
While he waited, Ian pulled over one of the pads and a pen. His headphones crackled loudly and a recorded female voice came on "Phone call began at 10:45 A.M. and ended at 11:20 AM GMT."
Ian next heard a dial tone, followed by a bright female voice saying "Central Headquarters, how may I direct your call?"
Sounding a bit odd over the phone line, Edward's voice came on "This is Colonel Edward Elric, the Fullmetal. May I speak to Fuhrer Mustang, please?"
Almost two hours later, Ian white-knuckled the steering wheel of his car while he drove with one eye on the traffic and kept the other one peeled for Edward along the route to the building housing the Ancient And Noble Society of Amateur Alchemists. He has listened to the recording of the call three times and after the third repetition, Ian had been forced to admit defeat.
The pad of paper remained pristinely unwritten on because Elric and Mustang had spoken in codes, their personal codes of traveloge and women's names which they used for their alchemy research notes. Codes MI-7 had never before encountered and therefore hadn't broken. Ian was so frustrated he could have wept.
For his part, Edward was enjoying himself immensely. After his phone call with Mustang, he had asked one of the embassy receptionists the location of the Ancient and Noble Society of Alchemists' headquarters and directions on how to get there.
It was a bit warmer this morning than yesterday and the walk was pleasant if long. The receptionist had offered to call a cab for him, but unsure of New Britain's monetary system, and how much to tip, Edward had declined the offer. It would be a two mile hike, but he had walked many times further than that in one day, both in Amestris, and in Europe. After he strolled down Paddington High Street, Edward turned right and crossed the street at the junction with Regent's Gallop. He admired Londonium's system of traffic control, one of lights flashing either red, orange or green made for a smooth flow of pedestrians and motorized traffic.
Edward still looked warily at the heavy trucks as he crossed, and he walked a little faster because the front grilles of a couple looked similar to that of the truck in his nightmare. After a mile, he turned off onto Soho Row and eventually left again onto Kitten Mews, and about 100 yards down was the building housing the ANSAA. It was hidden behind a perfectly ordinary red brick wall, and the entrance was a perfectly ordinary heavy wooden door studded with strips of brass and iron strap hinges. Set flush into the brickwork, it had a simple bell pull next to it. Edward gave the pull one hard yank, then let go and listened to the bell peal behind the wall.
A small rectangular slot about eye level opened so suddenly in one of the brass strips Edward was startled and he stepped back a bit. A pair of suspicious blue eyes regarded him warily from the other side behind a narrow grille, and a brusque male voice with a pronounced burr demanded "State your business!"
"Good morning," Edward began. "I wish to speak to - "
The slot slammed shut and a muffled voice shouted from within. "Go away!"
Edward's eyes narrowed with just slight irritation and he gave the bell pull another yank. When the slot opened a second time, he stuck his broken state alchemist watch right up to it. "I am Amestrian State Alchemist Colonel Edward Elric, also called The Fullmetal. I wish to speak to - "
The slot slammed shut a second time before he could finish.
Edward growled, ground his teeth and fought back the urge to scream curse words in frustration. His temper already rising, he pounded on the door with his metal fist (denting some of the brass work) and yelled "Open this door or I'll transmute it into kindling!"
The slot opened a third time and a new pair of eyes, gray this time, glared out at him. "Sir, please step away from this door or I'll have the police on you."
Edward set his jaw and growled again, more audibly this time. "I have business here and I want to talk to someone in charge!"
"About what, may I ask?"
Before I came here, I was given letters of introduction to six people. Five of them were members of this society and all of them are now dead, four of them by murder."
The eyes moved away and the slot closed, but not all the way and Edward could hear a muffled conversation between several people before the slot re-opened and the gray eyes looked out at him again.
"What were their names, please?"
"F.F.Machus, Remigius Jungbeck, Dorothy Woolfe, Edmund Ameche, and Oliver Comstock." Edward's temper was wearing thin and he didn't bother to leave the steel out of his voice.
A faint gasp was heard from inside, but the eyes didn't waver. "And what was the nature of your business with them?"
Edward's left eyebrow twitched and his voice was pitched low and dangerous. "That is what I'm trying to find out."
The voice became more conciliatory. "Please understand, sir, because of some - ah - 'trouble' - we have to check the bonafides of all visitors. How can we be sure that watch is authentic?"
Edward stuck it up right against the grille of the slot so the eyes got a good look at the rearing horses set against the background of a simple alchemy array. He tried, but couldn't keep the snark out of his voice. "Fuhrer Mustang doesn't just hand these watches out to any one. I have to pass written and practical assesments every year to keep my license as a State Alchemist."
The eyes disappeared a second time and more frantic whispering was heard before a third set of eyes - brown ones - came to the slot. "Ex - excuse me sir, wha -what did you say your name was again?"
Edward delivered his answer from betweeen gritted teeth. "Colonel Edward Elric, Amestrian State Alchemist, the Fullmetal!"
Several loud clicks and clacks were heard from within. There was one last 'clunk!' and the door swung open to a most curious sight. Five people - three men and two women - were bowing deeply in his direction. All five wore floor length robes of deep jewel-like colors which were decorated around the edges of the hoods, sleeves and along the hems with silver studs in the shapes of moons, hearts, and stars.
It gave Edward a jolt of recognition and also made him feel very uneasy. The members of the Thule Society in the machine world had had donned similar robes, though of darker colors and not decorated. But they made the same fuss over alchemy with convoluted rituals - and - Edward's brows knit together in annoyance because the five had been on the verge of finally standing straight when they bowed a second time.
"Please," he said. "Please stop bowing. I'm just an alchemist, not anyone special."
They reluctantly straightened up after their second bow - they seemed to be set on another one and rather disappointed by Edward's protest. A black-haired man wearing a robe in a rich ruby-red color - Edward noticed he was the owner of the gray eyes, protested. "Oh, but you are special Colonel Elric! Even before diplomatic relations with Amestris were restored we have been in awe of your country's State Alchemist programme in general, and the reputation of the Fullmetal Alchemist in particular!"
Edward gulped. Is it getting hot in here, or is my head just swelling? Never before had he wished so ardently for one of Winry's wrenches updside his skull to bring him back to earth. To hide his embarrassment, he reached back and tightened his unbraided ponytail, but his cheeks felt heated and he was sure they were flaming red.
"Um, that's very nice of you to say that, but I came here on a specific mission, to find out why five members of your society were designated by Ambassador Pankhurst as my contacts."
One of the women, a tall lady in a green robe who had rich chestnut hair done up in intricate braids on each side of her head said, "Maurice, I suggest wer escort our guest to an inner chamber where he can be more comfortable and we can discuss these matters in private."
Maurice bowed to her. "As always, Clarissa, I can count upon you to have the priorities straight." He smiled as he said it, but Edward noted the smile didn't reach Maurice's eyes, and there was a note of falseness in the brittle tone of his voice.
Maurice turned to Edward, bowed and said, "Will you please walk this way, Colonel Elric? Our cook shall be serving luncheon soon and she would be honored to have such a great alchemist at her table."
Edward was hungry, it was getting on for noon, but his feeling of discomfort grew with the discovery of another parallel with the Thule Society. He still inclined his head and murmured something about how he'd be happy to lunch with them. He had come for information and a few twinges of unease weren't going to make him leave without what he wanted to know. But he wasn't going to mimic Maurice's mincing pigeon-toed walk. Despite all of the flattery, Edward still had some standards...
Luncheon was served in a cozy dining room paneled in oak,after everyone was seated at a large round table. The first course was cream of asparagus soup, followed by a peppered loin of beef and garlic mashed potatoes. It was delicious and was followed by dessert, a warm apple tart drizzled with white cream cheese icing and it shared the plate with a scoop of Bourbon vanilla ice cream. For the sake of being a good guest, Edward put aside his dislike of dairy products and ate all of it.
After the meal, Edward was introduced to the cook, a Mrs. DeLine who seemed to melt under his kind words. He got the impresssion the woman's efforts didn't get much praise from the society members. After she retreated, smiling and blushing back into the kitche, Maurice wanted to give him a tour of society headquarters. But he first insisted Edward don one of the colored robes - 'a courtesy we extend only to other alchemists'. So he removed his coat and pulled one the one given to him - midnight blue - with good grace. Although it made his feelings of unease grow.
Once Edward was ready, Maurice led him, with the other four tagging behind from the dining hall through a high ceiling hallway made in the half-timbered style. After roughly fifty yards, the party made a right turn and came to a set of heavily carved doors of black walnut. The doors were huge - easily ten feet high - and the carvings brought Edward up short with an unpleasant jolt. They were so alike the ones he'd seen upon the Gates of Alchemy, the shocked look must have shown on his face.
Maurice smirked and said, "These doors were carved centuries ago by a member of the Eldritch family, a man who claimed to have seen the true Gate of Alchemy, impressive, are they not?"
Edward just gave him a sideways glance through his bangs. He really doubted Maurice could endure seeing the Gate without wetting his pants. His host continued grandiosely.
" 'The Gate of Alchemy' are also known as 'The Gate of Truth', so we thought it was most appropiate they guard the entrance to our library - behold!" After Maurice pushed down on black wrought iron handles, both doors swung open silently on oiled hinges.
The library of the Ancient And Noble Society of Amateur Alchemists was a massive room with a vaulted ceiling even higher than that of the hallway. A few people were studying at wooden tables under green-shaded lamps.They looked up curiously and Edward badly wanted to join them, for he loved libraries. Back in Amestris he had spent many happy hours exploring the stacks of the great Central Library.
Built in the grand fashion of private estate libraries, this one's walls were lined with bookcases of time-darkened oak and walnut which covered nearly every available inch, and were seperated every ten feet by tall, narrow clerestory windows. The top of each bookcase was surmounted by a metal rail with a ladder attached to the top edge and Edward saw a couple of people balanced precariously at the tops of those ladders either removing or replacing books.
Near to Edward, and also at the far end of the room were graceful iron spiral staircases leading to a second floor full of more bookcases. Comfortable looking armchairs, which invited sitting and reading were set along a curlicued iron railing which guarded the edge of the balcony. The whole place smelled of old leather, paper, wood, dust and silence. Silence broken only by whispers of sound, pages being turned and pens scratching over paper. The only other movement was of a middle-aged man pushing a wooden cart full of books, he would stop as each occupied table and either hand out books or pick up books to add to his cart. It looked like a perfect heaven to Edward.
Maurice led the way through the library - slowly - because Edward was craning his neck to look right and left with awe. The library was like a shrine to knowledge and deeper inside, any blank wall spaces were white washed and hung with an assortment of time-darkened portraits. Edward assumed they were of famous New British alchemists, and one full-length study caught his eye, a man with golden eyes and hair the color of warm caramel.
The man depicted looked very much like his father, except he was wearing clothes of several centuries ago. A blood red doublet with slashed sleeves showing yellow undersleeves, a snowy white ruff about his neck and on his legs were pale yellow hose secured with red ribbons tied at the knees. His shoes were shiny black and topped with large silver buckles and he stood flanked by a large wooden globe of the alchemic world to his left. On his right was a small round wooden table with a stack of books upon it.
The figure held a book upright in his left hand, which was supported by the table, one finger was stuck between the pages as if he had been reading when the painted arrived, and he was saving his place until the portrait was finsihed. His right hand was upon his waist, be-ringed fingers splayed out, and a small smile played about his lips as if he was saying 'I know something that you don't' to the viewer.
A small brass plaque at the bottom of the ornate frame the picture was in identified the subject, but the writing was so tiny Edward was unable to read it. Clarissa leaned over and whispered in his left ear, "That is Hohenheim Eldritch, and this portrait was painted over 400 years ago in this very library, for this building was once the Eldritch family's town home."
Not to be outdone, Maurice whispered in Edward's right ear, "Hohenheim was known as 'The Prodigal'. He was such a brilliant alchemist, no one could match his knowledge. He abruptly left took ship from New Britain one day, and it's said he was going east to learn from the alchemists there. People assumed he meant Xing, but he was never heard from again and it is thought he died enroute for long journeys were fraught with hazards from pirates on the sea, and bandits on the land."
Edward thought to himself, Or he never got any further than Amestris after he met Dante. He bent down to more closely examine the portrait, so he didn't see the superior look Maurice threw at Clarissa nor the icy smile she gave in return.
"Shhhh!" An austere looking man with a lined face, a tonsure of nearly-white hair, dressed in a faded black (and un-studded) robe shushed from a high desk nearby. Edward looked rather askance at the old fellow's temerity until he realized, of course, he's the librarian! His hooded pale green eyes, a large hooked nose, and hollowed out cheeks made him look a suitably fierce defender of silence. Maurice smiled maliciously at the man, then mouthed this way please at Edward, and the little party was off again, exiting the library via another set of large wooden doors.
Once back in the high-ceiled hallway, Maurice could speak freely - and he did. "Our librarians are appointed for life and old Tom Dragonera takes his duties very seriously. Sometimes too seriously, but no book has ever gone missing on his watch!"
The little party of six were passing a series of closed doors and Edward could both see light through frosted glass transoms and hear voices chanting from behind them.
"When the Eldritch family owned this building, they ran a small boarding school where they tutored the children of alchemic families, plus they held daily salons where important alchemic, social, and political subjects could be discussed in a pure and unfettered manner. Today, the society strives to live up to their shining example."
Maurice said this so smoothly, Edwasrd suspected he had memorized this little speech to regurgitate on cue to any visitors.
After a few more yards of walking, the hall ended in a pair of enourmous bronze doors, the faces decorated with a pair of sinuous dragons twining about one another, done in high relief. They surmounted a saying in Latium incised onto a banner beneath them etched in low relief.
"The crest of the Eldritch family!" beamed Maurice, but the dragons greatly resembled Envy in his true form and Edward shivered underneath his robe. Whoever had worked these dragons had been an artist of great skill, for each scale, claw, and tooth were so lifelike Edward had the feeling he could reach out and touch real dragons. The eyes in particular were so lifelike - the cat-like pupils somehow colored red - they made Edward uneasily recall his confrontation with the Envy-dragon in Munich.
Maurice burbled on, "...the crest is translated as 'Do Not Meddle In The Affairs of Dragons' andit was a warning to the families warring for the throne of New Britain 500 years ago not to involve the Eldritches in their squabbles, nor try to utilize their alchemy in them."
Then Maurice leaned forwards and pushed down on one of the door handles - also bronze - there was a soft click and they swung open silently on well-oiled hinges. The space immediately beyond was poorly lit, but Edward could see great iron pillars supporting a circular balcony. Without a further word, Mauric walked past the doors and into the room, with the expectation Edward would follow. The room was a bit cooler than the hall outside and now Edward was glad he had put on the woolen robe.
The only light underneath the balcony came from a series of lamps bolted to each pillar. Once past the balcony however, the light became brighter and Edward could see they were in a huge open space and he shuddered again. This was too much like the Thule Society's headquarters where he had found that massive array Noa had made from his stolen memories.
He looked up and he could see the walls rose to a staggering height, then slowly tapered to a stained glass sky light made of brilliantly colored panes. It must look spectacular when the sun is right above it, was his thought. Despite his imagined fears, there was no coiled dragon suspended by cables high above, with a pony-tailed man clenched in his jaws.
"Comes this way, Colonel Elric" Maurice urged, his right foot on the bottom tread of a wood and iron spiral staircase. "I think you will like the view."
Curious, Edward followed him up the stairs, their footsteps thudded on the wooden treads. He snuck one look back and their original party of six had more than tripled in size. Word must have spread about the foreign alchemist and every society member was eager for a look at him. They had reached the level of the balcony now, and Edward saw there were threee more levels above him.
"Take a look at that, Colonel, and tell me what you think. Do you have anything half as impressive in Amestris?" Maurice's voice was a mixture of pride and challlenge, and when Edward looked over the railing, he had to admit that it was breathtaking.
Down below him was an alchemic array made on a massive scale. Incised into the slate floor, it had circles within circles, and bore runes he'd never seen before and the whole glowed softly with a faint white light.
As transmutation circles go, it was beautiful.