102 - The Games People Play
One of the most useful pieces of advice Sheska had gotten while working in the military was that: as long as you walked into a room acting like you knew what you were doing nobody would question you. She wouldn't deny that was true, she'd actually used it from time to time, but on a scale like this, it was clearly advice penned by people who had arrogant self confidence at their disposal.
Walking through the lobby of a building she'd never been to, and acknowledging the kinds of people who were mulling about, Sheska abruptly realized she didn't fully possess the kind of arrogant confidence she needed that morning. Quickly weaving her way through a number of loitering bodies, she dearly hoped none of them gave her a second thought as she stepped up to the hotel's check-in desk.
Adjusting her glasses and straightening her bag, Sheska forced a nervous smile across her face, "Good morning!"
Two young women behind the desk stared back at her, clearly offended that anyone had the gall to turn up so early in the day and make them do anything. Sheska withered a little and eyed two ladies sculpted in uniforms that she'd never fit in, molded in hairstyles that were impossible for her, and polished by makeup skills that confounded her. Honestly not sure if they were actually there to run the check in desk or serve another purpose, Sheska continued to smile awkwardly, hoping they'd cave.
The women held their blank stares over their uninvited guest for several uncomfortable seconds longer, before one of them gave up and slowly made her way to the desk.
"Good morning. What can we do for you, today?"
"I'd like a room, please," Sheska latched both her hands onto her satchel strap.
A modified blank look found the woman at the desk - this one clearly read as dismissive and annoyed, "Unfortunately, the hotel's full for the week."
"Oh," moving one hand over the other, Sheska began wringing her hands down her bag strap, "well, I was told that if I needed a room, I could come here and Brigadier General Mustang would have one arranged for me."
Like a switch had been flipped, the dismissive tone and presentation of both the young ladies vanished. Sheska watched with nervous relief as the one who'd stayed back quickly abandoned her partner and vanished.
"I see," the remaining woman manning the façade of a hotel welcome desk finally smiled at her guest, "have a seat and give us a few moments while we check and see if that arrangement is still available for walk-ins."
Sheska brought her shoulders to her ears, curled her smile, and took a few quick steps backwards, "Sure, thank you!"
Most of the people mulling about on the main floor weren't there to sit and Sheska was able to put herself down in the first seat she found. Neatly re-setting her glasses on her nose, she sighed with relief and picked her eyes up to inspect the hotel lobby.
It was clean, but somewhat dull and uninviting. The restaurant tucked away on the opposite side of the entry doors looked predominantly unoccupied and kind of out-of-date. Without enough floors to warrant an elevator, a wide central staircase led would-be guests through the floors. There were two side hallways and it seemed that every white space of wall had some kind of painting hanging from it. Assuming everyone loitering was military, Sheska didn't want to let her eyes sit on any single person and arouse suspicion but, as an overall impression, most of the people didn't seem to be in any hurry to go anywhere or do anything. They were all waiting.
Looking over her shoulder to see if the ladies at the desk had anything new to offer her, Sheska practically flew out of her seat when she turned into someone's face.
"Woah!" a hand snatched her arm before she could fall to the floor and cause a scene.
"Don't sneak up on people like that!" Sheska gasped.
"Hey… you. You're that lady."
Sheska straightened herself out and adjusted her glasses, "And you're Lieutenant Breda."
"Got me there," rubbing his tired eyes, Breda waited for the women at the desk to slip away before continuing, "we have a lot of shit going on. Who gave you that message and what do you need the brigadier general for?"
Perfecting her posture and firmly gripping the strap on her satchel, Sheska presented herself, "I'd like to join the rebellion."
"It's not…" a tired Lieutenant Breda blinked slowly, "we're overthrowing the government."
"Exactly," Sheska adjusted her declaration without missing a beat, "I'd like to join that."
"Look," Breda ran his hand over his shortcut hair, "we appreciate the offer, but we don't have time to manage individual civilians who want to help us. We need military divisions with leadership."
"But, see," Sheska slid herself up to Breda's shoulder, "I work in Human Resources for the Central government now. I do books and records. I have access to all kinds of files. The kinds of files that might be helpful if you're trying to get a leg up on the government."
Breda groaned and looked at the ceiling.
Sheska let her glasses slide down her nose and she popped her eyebrows above the brims to wiggle them, "I can be your man on the inside."
"We have men on the inside," pivoting away from her, Breda began marching down the closer of two side hallways, before calling, "come on, you can talk to someone else."
Scurrying after him, Sheska tailed the out-of-uniformed officer down the hallway, catching up to him as they entered the stairwell at the end. Ascending only a single floor, Breda wordlessly led his guest down an echoing hall of closed doors, arriving at a room that was honestly closer to the central staircase than the backwards way they'd come from.
Breda turned the handle and let himself in, "Sir, there's a familiar face here."
Sheska peered over Breda's shoulder and watched Armstrong pick his eyes off his work.
"I'll be back in five," moving out of the doorway, Breda didn't give Sheska another thought as he marched swiftly back down the long length of hall.
Sliding into the room, Sheska eyed the hulking officer who looked to be sagging under his own weight. She offered him an awkward smile, "Good morning, Sir."
Armstrong's tired, beady eyes looked the woman over, before a realization suddenly lifted some of the weight, "Oh… Sheska! My goodness it's been a trying few days, it's a comfort to see such a welcomed face."
"I'm glad it's okay for me to be here," she smiled.
Clasping his thick hands, Armstrong placed them down on the desk, "My apologies, things are substantially complicated right now, but what can I do for you?"
This was it - a cue handed to her on a silver platter. Time to deliver what she'd shown up for.
Preceded by a stiff breath, Sheska marched up to the front of the bulky man's desk, threw her shoulders back, and thrust her chin high, "As a proud Amestrian, I'd like to offer my services to aid Brigadier General Mustang and his alliance to depose the current government, so we can work towards establishing peace, unity, and success within our borders, and restore our national pride!"
Like a great wave swept through the room, strong enough to turn the ocean's tide, the declaration catapulted Armstrong from his seat and he threw his arms wide, "Such grand words! A beautiful declaration for one's love for her country and her peoples. In times of strife and doubt such as these, to see a young citizen recognize the importance of national unity and to hear such emotions given voice, it is nothing short of a glorious breath of fresh air."
Sheska giggled nervously - it worked like a charm, just like Ed said.
"It is this sort of dedication and passion which is precisely what we all need at this moment," like the wind had abandoned his sails, Armstrong deflated, "however, we do not have the resources to manage individual civilians. Perhaps there will come a tim-"
"If you'll pardon me, Sir, I'm not offering to help out with combat, and I won't need much supervision either," Sheska interrupted to expand on her offer, "currently I work in Books & Records for Human Resources in the Central government. I have access to both the government and military files that get processed, stored, and archived there. I think the resources I have access to can help with the brigadier general's plans. I can either replicate what I've been able to read over, or obtain anything additional you might need."
At a point where she was expecting a response of some kind, Armstrong offered none. He remained silent, but what struck Sheska more than his silence, was the look of concern that found his eye and carried his gaze away, eventually settling beyond her shoulder.
"Would you have access to tactical information on deployments from both the military and municipal police departments, as well as government security filings, and anything pertaining to the government's activities in Xentotime?"
Processing words that originated from behind her, Sheska spun on her toes and the presence she found backed her into Armstrong's desk. Her eyes practically filling her glasses, Sheska's heart raced while her hands nervously strangled her satchel strap, "I uh… yes, Sir. Yes, I should be able to get access to some of that at least."
Hakuro stepped up and imposed his presence on Armstrong's visitor, "By noon."
Sheska stared wide-eyed at the unfathomable man who'd been allowed to walk in and address her like he had authority, "B-by noon? "
"Yes, by noon," the officer who once lauded his military blues as a top general now stood in civilian clothes, heavily commanding his powerful, disconcerting, and formidable stature, "if your offer is genuine, at noon, walk out with as much as you can, bring it here, and do not expect to go back. There may not be a job for you at the Central government by the end of the day."
From his armpits to his elbows, Al sat tied to a chair. The gag had been jammed back in his mouth and a dark burlap sack had been put over his head with the drawstrings tightened just enough that he couldn't see out. His ankles were unbound at least - that was a plus.
In the hour since he'd arrived in Xenotime, Al had been left alone on the chair. Ignored in some room somewhere, he focussed on staying relaxed, pep talking himself to steady his confidence and resolve, and trying to get a sense of his surroundings.
The building noise was noticeably absent - there was no one in the hall, no voices in the distance, no sounds of life or activity at all inside the building. There was a window left open - Al suspected deliberately - that let his ears pick up the outdoor noises and allowed him to feel a light breeze on his back. When the breeze wasn't filling the room with fresh air, dusty circulated air was blowing in from an overhead vent. Strangely, between the two sources, at the times when things seemed to be perfectly still, the only obvious scent Al could pick up was something that faintly smelled like rotting fruit.
Since his legs weren't bound, an idea popped into his head. Swinging his feet out, Al began to rock himself forwards to backwards, until he gained enough momentum that he rolled onto his feet. Landing on two feet with the chair still tied to his body, Al was forced to stand almost completely bent over at the waist. But, he was up!
Shuffling himself around until he faced the window, Al began moving forwards, not wanting to explore the room too much while he was bound and blinded, and he used the sound of the open window to help judge his whereabouts. Slowing as he reached the end of the room, Al dipped his head forwards and heard the weak sound of thin curtain ends sweep over the sack on his head as he met the window frame.
Using the top of his head to feel around the window, Al startled when his forehead bumped into something sticking out. After running his face around it to get a sense of what it was, the conclusion was that it was a lever of some kind and that offered the resourceful Elric something he could use to loosen the sack over his head. Sliding his neck along the lever until it hooked into the edge of the cover over his head, Al slowly tugged, and pulled, and worked the drawstrings loose until the edge of the sack hung free around him.
Now able to see his caged hands and free legs beyond the ends of what blinded him, Al widened his stance and he threw his head and shoulders wildly, trying to fling the loosened bag off. Again and again, to the point where he began to feel dizzy, Alphonse tossed his upper body around, until he finally felt the victorious sensation of it slipping off over his hair.
And the sack was snatched up before it ever touched the ground.
Al picked his head up in alarm and looked into the beautiful, poisoned smile that had once belonged to Nina Tucker.
"Bravo," Dante lauded, "that was an excellent display of resourcefulness. I'm glad I sat in to see your problem solving skills at work."
Disgusted, Al ground his teeth down on the gag he was silenced with and took an awkward step back from a tiny monster dressed in a white babydoll dress.
Clapping her hands, Dante immediately ripped a piercing shriek out of his lungs. With transmutation energy in her fingertips, Alphonse frantically scrambled backwards until the chair tied to his back crashed into the corner, dropping the panicked Elric to his knees. Unable to defend himself, Al curled his head into his chest and took a sharp breath as Dante's hands came down near his ears.
She never touched him; Dante's fingertips swept over the gag constricting his mouth and transmuted the fabric back into its fibers, letting it fall away like dust.
"There. That's better, don't you think?"
Dante filled Alphonse's ears with the precious sound of Nina's childish voice and he accidently let her see the frazzled look in his eyes when he looked up.
She smiled.
Al choked on the air he hastily breathed and coughed, "What do you want, Dante?"
"I want to celebrate with you!" her voice cheered childishly and she took a swift step away from him, "for your accomplishments."
It was surprising to Al how unfathomably nauseating Dante sounded with his memories back and how revolting she looked parading around in Nina's body.
Alphonse could remember this little girl; what an odd sensation to have after she'd felt unfamiliar for so long. He could remember carrying Nina Tucker around on his shoulders for weeks and playing with her for many more. In a cold body without tactile feeling, Al had cared for a child who could not understand his situation and didn't question him either - Nina had clung to Al and cheered with him while his older brother worked for his State Alchemist title. Those memories were seared into his soul again and to hear and see Dante wield the visage the way she was made his heart ache.
Taking a deep breath, Alphonse reminded himself that he had to act like the innocent and ignorant child this horrid woman remembered.
"I don't want to celebrate," he rested on his knees, weight partially over the box used to constrict his hands, "I want to go home."
Dante shook her head, "Not for some time. We have a lot to discuss."
Al lifted his head a little farther to examine the room. Lit by both an open window and a chandelier hanging at the center of the room, the space was practically empty, except for the table arrangement smack in the middle. A white tablecloth accentuated a square table with wooden chairs at only three of its sides. A porcelain teapot, polished sparkling white, centred the table decorated with four matching cups, all flipped upside down atop napkins, which were the only items present at each empty seat.
The layers of sheer curtains swayed in the breeze as Dante sat herself down in a vacant chair and swept her braids in front of her shoulders, like she meant to show off the white bows at the ends.
"Take a seat at the head of the table," she gestured to the single empty side at the square table.
Al slowly, clumsily got to his feet. Doing as he was told, he awkwardly made his way forwards and clunked his chair down sideways at the vacant space. Unable to turn around to face the table, Al remained seated ajar and watched warily as Dante slid a cup closer to him and flipped it over, as if she intended to offer a drink his imprisoned hands couldn't take.
"What did you want to talk about?" he asked.
Dante flashed Nina's eyes brightly, "First of all, congratulations on retrieving your brother! I honestly wasn't sure just how far you'd be able to get on your own, but acknowledging the result, I should have known better than to doubt one of Hohenheim's sons."
Alphonse let the woman who'd weaponized ignorance see nothing but his anxious, uncertain eleven-year-old self and didn't offer a comment.
Lacing her fingers together, Dante neatly placed her hands in her lap, linked her ankles dangling off the chair, and sat perfectly postured in her seat. A confident smile polluted Nina's face, "And that's left me with so many things I want to ask you, sometimes I'm not sure where to begin."
Al had spent hours in the back of that uncomfortable van putting together lists of what he could tell her. He reminded himself he was prepared for this.
"You've succeeded me," Dante wistfully sent her wide, childish eyes to the ceiling, "so, selfishly I want to know intrinsic things - like what it felt like to reach into the heart of the Gate. I want to know what it was like to run a transmutation on that scale. I want to know what it was like to have all that in your hands and make the Gate comply. It's quite possibly the pinnacle of what we can achieve with what's at our disposal on this side."
If he had to, Al could tell her what that all felt like, because it was incredible information that couldn't harm anyone. There was no way Dante could ever come close to recreating what he had accomplished.
The wistful sense tempered as Dante added a callus tint to Nina's eyes, "And, of course, I want to know how your brother has been doing since he got home. And I want to know how you managed to return him with all his limbs."
Al hastily vanished into his thoughts; how did Dante know that? Aisa clearly didn't know that. Aisa was sent to Central looking for a teenager with AutoMail. How could Dante have learnt that in the days between when Aisa left her side and now?
"I want to know what you and your brother have talked about since his return. What stories he's told you of his adventure and what you've learnt from him."
Al struggled to balance his hurried thoughts against his nervous, childish presentation. The only people who knew that were himself, Winry, Sensei, and Brigadier General Mustang's inner circle.
Oh.
And Wrath.
"I want to know what you were going to offer to me, if I'd chosen to return to Central and play along with your games."
If Wrath had brought up 'his arm and leg', Dante might have been able to piece it together. That had to be where this was coming from. Al re-focussed on Dante, just in time to watch a devastating smile slice into Nina's cheeks.
"But, what I am really on pins and needles to find out, is what your brother learnt in that rich world beyond that allowed him to show Wrath the Gate so easily."
Nina's voice echoed and Al could hear every word. He recognized the voice being used, he could have replicated every sound, yet for no explainable, fathomable reason, could he understand what Dante had just said.
Alphonse felt sick, "What?"
Beneath the blistering afternoon sun, with hands planted firmly on her hips, Izumi let the sweat trickle through her temples while she scowled up at a multi storey complex sitting high on a mountain ledge.
"That's the Xenotime laboratory?"
"Built when there was money out here," Falman sighed, wiping his brow, "when they had gold."
Izumi scoffed, "Considering what became of everything, you have to question if they ever naturally had gold in the first place."
Standing firmly in the middle of a dirt path that meandered through the outskirts of town and then wormed into the forest growth, it was taking all of Izumi's willpower to not march up the hill and take matters into her own hands.
Falman's calm voice came into play, inserting a reminder for her to keep her cool, "I think as long as we stay within the process that Brigadier General Mustang established, we should be able to get them out without much problem."
'The process' was going to grind Izumi's patience away.
The military on its own was a wretched conception as far as she was concerned, but now having to operate within a military 'process' felt like a corruption of her morals. But, it was a process she had been a part of designing, and she reminded herself again and again that the conclusions were correct and that the worst decisions she could make were the ones she wanted to act on the most. She had to adhere to the process they'd all agreed to and fight the urge to do exactly as Dante had set them up for and was expecting.
Izumi's greatest hurdle now, standing in Xenotime's daylight, was that she had never anticipated that it would apply to her quite so stringently.
It was an undeniable assumption: Dante was expecting and waiting for her arrival. Dante was waiting for everyone to show up, internal fires burning and panic rising, prepared to do whatever was necessary to take back Ed and Al. Izumi was more than ready to do all of that and more at a moment's notice, and the longer the alchemy teacher stared at this laboratory looking down on the population from it's cliff on high, the more she wanted to see the entire mountain collapse.
Other than Mustang himself, the most significant tactical advantage working in their favour was that Dante didn't know exactly when a rescue party would show up. If Izumi were in her teacher's shoes, she would anticipate two things: they would enter the town in the cover of darkness to conceal their movements, and they would arrive within the first twenty four hours that Dante got her hands on the boys. All of that situated the rescue attempt's execution in the post-midnight hours.
While the second assumption remained true, Falman and Izumi made sure they arrived just after the noon hour and in broad daylight, at a point in time when Dante was most likely entertaining herself with her new captives. The bold approach offered the highest chance of their arrival going unnoticed in the mid-day bustle. With Mustang and his crew already embedded and Armstrong gearing up for some ambiguous signal that 'they would recognize', Izumi and Falman had to operate with the intention of starting a rescue before the sun had finished setting.
Deep down though, Izumi wanted to do for Ed and Al what she'd once done for Wrath once upon a time - surprise the Xenotime laboratory, transmute it into a structural embarrassment, and rescue something important to her.
Digging her toes into the dirt and tightening her clenched fists, Izumi turned and resigned herself to an excruciating walk into town. She couldn't lash out like that now - the foe was too grande, "We need to get things going."
"We have good cards in our hand," Falman picked up his tone and began to lengthen his strides again as they walked the outlying streets, "we only need to find Brigadier General Mustang and adjust our footing."
Izumi was honestly more confident they could collect information from anywhere in town faster than either of them could track down Mustang. The man had no reason to know they were there and nothing to alert him to even look or make himself accessible. Behaving as he should, Mustang and his party would be keeping a low profile, or possibly be working the mines again to keep out of sight for all either of them knew.
Izumi frowned, "Do we know what time Armstrong is going to act in Central?"
"No," Falman shook his head, "the best he could do was make sure it lined up with the day we were expected to arrive."
"We're damn lucky the car didn't overheat," a grumble rumbled through her chest, "it's nearing mid-afternoon and there's a good chance we're operating behind. I want to find Town Hall before it gets too late."
As he'd done throughout their trek through the eastern countryside, Falman took exception to Izumi's involvement with the town hall, "I think keeping a lower profile and finding the brigadier general will be our best first steps."
"There's no guarantee we're going to find him with enough time to get ourselves sorted," Izumi's voice rose as she resumed the argument with him again, "and if I can get my hands on the tunnel maps archived there, we'll be in much better shape."
Sighing, Falman stepped up to counter on behalf of his superior officers, "The brigadier general was adamant before he left that we assume Dante has connections throughout the town, certainly with both town hall and local law enforcement. The moment someone shows up asking for mining or infrastructure maps-"
Izumi barked a sarcastic laugh, "Who says I'm asking?"
Flinching, Falman rolled his head back and looked skyward, "The plan hinged on eliminating ways Dante could find out anyone was in the town. The moment word gets back to her and she realizes someone's stolen maps…"
"She will be too busy puppeting her government to be ready for us… or preoccupied with the boys," Izumi tone darkened, "Armstrong's giving us one window and, if we miss it, it's not going to matter if she finds out anyone took something from town hall or not."
Falman sighed.
"Mustang doesn't know yet that he needs to get his ass in gear today," Izumi added, not wanting to completely put herself at odds with her company, "I think he'd change his tune on this one."
"Hopefully…"
Turning her gaze back over her shoulder, Izumi looked out at the mountain laboratory looming over the town. It was huge, more than she'd expected, and she had to assume it was connected to paths within the mountain. Locating Ed, Al, and Brigitte in a structure that size, with tendrils that deep, would be a chore on its own. And then there was the potential that existed where Dante could launch a transmutation that would either turn the area into a ghost town or one that would flood it off the map. She could do either and vanish into the mountain with at least Ed before they'd gotten through the lobby.
Izumi needed to start disabling the connections Dante had hidden beneath the surface, and she needed to start now.
As the mis-matched duo walked away from the residential dirt path and stepped onto a cobblestone road, Izumi's concerns were momentarily put aside when both looked ahead at a road that crested then dipped away into the valley, sinking so drastically that rooftops fell out of sight. The pair kept their attention forwards, watching with both quiet curiosity and interest in the silent daytime heat while their strides brought them closer to the top. Stepping up to the peak of a sweeping road that flowed into the heart of a pocket in eastern Amestris, once rich with both people and gold, Izumi and Falman looked out at the expanse of the town laid out in front of them - clearly vast enough that it might have qualified as a city in the prime of its life.
Izumi's brow lowered as she stared at the daunting landscape of their quest, "We're running tight on time. Are you going to provide a distraction for me, so I can get what I need without being bothered, or do you want to chase Mustang's invisible tail around in this?"
Falman let his posture sag, "I don't think I have much of an option anymore."
Izumi gave a light laugh, "I'm the farthest you'll get from a diplomat."
Falman reminded himself he was too old to outwardly groan at a time like this, "I'll see what I can do to keep a conversation going with the people at the town hall."
Izumi started down the hill, "Thank you."
Perched on her knees in her chair, with her elbows on the table and shoulders near her ears, Dante leaned over the unfolded piece of paper Alphonse had told her was in his pocket.
Four foreign characters, written by Edward's hand, stared back at her.
It was a lifeline Al offered in the middle of a losing argument. It was something else to talk about. It was a distraction from something he wasn't ready to acknowledge.
Strumming her fingers dully off the table cloth, Dante lifted an eye to the downtrodden Elric, "If there are twelve of these you've learnt, how many of them were you prepared to give me if I'd shown up?"
Al bent his arms as best he could and offered the box binding his hands, "If you let me out, I'll give you all twelve and a few circles I worked out to practice with."
Dante grinned in amusement at how effortlessly he offered that to her, "You don't get to use your hands so easily."
Al let the box drop onto his thighs.
Frowning playfully at the deflated reception she'd been getting from this younger Elric for the last while, Dante pushed his buttons to revive him, "I suppose none of these will shed any light to why your brother can summon the Gate?"
"I told you!" Al boiled again, "He can't do that! Wrath is insane. Wrath is lying."
Dante's smile pinched, "And I'll ask you again, Alphonse: how could Wrath craft a lie like that on his own? A 'lie' that I spent all night with him trying to properly unravel - that your brother clapped his hands and showed him the Gate."
Al's heart pounded and his expression strained while he listened to Dante repeat herself once more.
"Wrath could not. So, either you are lying to me, or your brother has lied to you. Which do you suppose that is?"
Al wanted to lie to himself and that's what he was doing.
How in the world… why in the world would Wrath even say something like that? It was unexplainable how Wrath, of all people or things, could say something like that. Worse than that, when Dante flaunted her information, the situation she described was in line with what his teacher had said: Wrath no longer wanted his brother's arm and leg because they were loud. It was behaviour and words that two independent sources offered - two sources that could never have corroborated their stories.
No matter how he looked at it, Al couldn't ignore that something had to have happened in the twelve hours prior to Wrath's trip with his teacher that affected the homunculus, and the very short list of people who could explain it included his brother. Dante was the first and only person to offer a reason why Wrath suddenly lost interest in his brother's arm and leg.
It was a reason he was struggling to acknowledge.
Al's head felt inexplicably heavy.
To both his relief and dismay, Dante appeared to accept that Alphonse honestly didn't think his brother could do what she was claiming, despite her theatrics. She'd stopped trying to pry more information from him on the topic and switched to entertaining herself by finding ways to taunt him with it. Her verbal acrobatics were relentless - nothing short of petty and vicious at times - and Al was continually faltering and falling into her snares.
He needed to refocus; there was someone he needed to help rescue. There were people coming for them. His brother - whether he was concealing information about the Gate or not - could be dealt with later.
"Have you tried them out at all?" Dante questioned, "these twelve Cyrillic characters?"
"I have," Al replied, "a bit."
"Well," Dante's smile curled and inexplicably sweetened, "then, when we have a moment where you can write them out for me, I'll be confident in their validity."
Al sank as much as he could in his bindings; his focus only lasted as long as it took Dante to irritate him with another backhanded stab at his brother. And Al wanted to fight back and defend his older brother with every ounce of ferocity he had in him every time.
But...
Alphonse stared at a number of 'but's that left him with more questions and doubts than answers.
While his brother had made no allusions to anything in regards to Wrath's change in behaviour or any relationship with Gate, he had given everyone a reason to fear what would happen if he clapped his hands. A number of separate puzzle pieces threatened to be part of a single picture, cultivating doubt in the shadows of credibility.
"With that said Alphonse, I can't imagine your brother returned home with only twelve," reaching out for her polished tea pot, Dante clapped her hands and re-heated it, "why didn't he teach you more?"
Al watched suspiciously as Dante pulled the unused cup at Al's space at the table closer to herself, "We decided on twelve, so that's where we stopped."
"Who decided?"
He stared while Dante poured a steaming, brown-ish tea into a cup he couldn't drink from, "I decided."
Filling his drink half way before she put the pot down, Dante slid the cup back towards her guest, "Did your brother happen to encourage that decision?"
"No," Al soured, "he wanted to teach me more, but I decided there would be a limit."
Lacing her fingers, Dante crossed her legs and neatly placed her clasped hands down on her top knee, "Are you certain your brother has never done anything to discourage you from learning something more?"
"I am certain! " Al struggled to contain his exasperation.
"Now, now," Dante washed her face with concern so heavily feigned she got the pleasure of watching his eye twitch, "I'm simply concerned that it seems like your loyal older brother has returned less than loyal with what he's telling you."
Alphonse's scowl grew heavy - she was riling him up again. He had to calm down. Al needed to keep his head in check to take away her power, "It's Wrath that I'd be questioning, not my brother."
Looking off, as though she were considering Al's comment, Dante's shoulders eventually rolled forwards. Her woven fingers fell apart and, like she had the skills of a ballerina lost in her repertoire, Dante brushed her hands over her knees, stretched her legs, pointing her toes, and swept to her feet. Smoothing the knee-length dress, she stepped up to the toes of the Elric seated crooked at her tea table.
" Your loyalty to him is endearing, Alphonse, but your brother has been through a great deal the last few years - most of which you have no memory of and even some that you were no part of. I'm concerned about how you place your faith so blindly in someone like that, when you can't even remember the origins of my face."
Al bit his tongue as Dante poked her fingers into the corner of Nina's smile.
"You can't remember how Nina lived, what her fate was, how she died, how it was covered up, and how it affected the people her life touched," Dante reached out and she placed her hands on the corners of the box constraining Al's hands resting on his legs, "Nina's life ended within the first year you'd been bound to the suit of armour and there are years beyond that weighing on your brother's shoulders. Weighing on his mind. Events… burdens and hardships that you have no memory of being a part of."
Nobody could play this 'memory' game with Alphonse any more; he had complete ownership of himself and remembered everything. All his memories - the lost ones, the questioned ones, the doubted ones, the feared false ones - all of them were his! It was such an odd moment for Al to feel so empowered over his state of existence while he sat there tied and constrained, and he eagerly, but quietly, dug out memory after memory in spite of her words.
"I have no doubt that your brother will always put the highest value into you, but you exist at a disadvantage in the relationship now," the tips of Dante's fingers tinkered, tapped, and strummed along the top of the cumbersome metal box she sealed away his alchemy with. Pinching her brow, Dante looked straight into the frustrated Elric eyes holding her in contempt, "You have brought your brother back from an incredible adventure and he knows exactly who you are. Can you say the same about him?"
Al clenched his hands inside the metal box, held his breaths steady, stared back unrelenting, and refused to respond. This tiny woman was a manipulative wordsmith, and regardless if it appeared she could be right on some things or how he wanted her to be wrong about everything, Al had to restrain himself from playing this game with her.
Swelling with a deep breath, Dante softened her eyes, decorated them with concern, and danced in the golden fire contesting her.
"What do you honestly know about his journey over these past few years? What has he told you, what has anyone told you, that gives you confidence to judge his character so innocently, when you're completely unable to relate to what he's experienced?"
The light in Al's eye flickered and the curl that found its way into the corner of Dante's lips went unnoticed when he stubbornly looked away.
Stepping out of the late afternoon sun and into a grocer, Riza browsed through a small, but inviting display of produce. A few fruits and vegetables, things that did not require cooking, would suffice while they kept low.
Though, she was starting to talk herself into visiting the barbecuer a few streets over for dinner - his skewers were quite good yesterday.
A couple of apples, plums, a celery stalk, and a few carrots later, Riza waited her turn to make her purchase behind someone dressed far too fashionably to be local. Trying to keep herself from reaching out and smacking him upside the head for haggling over the price of locally grown produce, Riza took the time to talk herself into skewers.
"GEORGES!"
Riza's attention was collected by a bellowing man who burst through the wooden door of the store and sent the chime into a frenzy.
"Get your ass in gear, we got a line into East City!"
The grumbling man from a different walk of life slapped his money down on the counter, "This better be good."
"The story's breaking at the top of the hour!"
As quickly as he arrived, the man yelling at his colleague vanished out the door again. The one who remained to collect his purchase, who was now outed as an invader from East City, was kindly asked to pay fifteen cens for a bag or carry it all in his arms. A slew of curses came out and fifteen cens was tossed to the counter in exchange for a paper bag that was tossed to him still freshly folded.
Trying to neither smile or laugh while the man fumbled around to package his own groceries, Riza casually let her eyes mingle around the store once more before she was finally able to make her own purchase. A no hassle transaction, and one nicely packaged paper bag of produce later, Riza left with both a light dinner and simple breakfast.
Right, skewers.
Tucking the bag into her left arm, she turned swiftly down the street and quietly enjoyed a few minutes of an afternoon walk all to herself.
The smell of dinner found her on the adjacent street and Riza veered over to a pair of burly brothers who operated something of an outdoor grill - cooking and selling skewers prepared over an open fire pit in a lot with a few cinderblocks to mark the property, but no walls. Even assuming that everything was managed in the neighbouring building, it was a little odd to have such an exposed type of food vendor, but Riza figured if they tried to put a roof over it, it would probably burn down. She casually wondered if that might be why it was without a roof in the first place.
"A lovely face is back!" a voice bellowed after a double-take was given to her.
Riza smiled, "Good afternoon."
"Your husband's not out with you today?"
Depending on her answer, this conversation had two ways it could go. Since Riza was far more interested in entertaining her stomach, rather than the charms of two men with no rings on their fingers, she tucked her left hand away under her produce bag and smiled, "Not today."
"What can I get for you?"
Dinner was selected and Riza hung back in the street as her meat landed on a cutting board, was met with a cleaver, and became freed from their bones. It felt rude to stare with so much interest, but it also felt like the whole point was to stare - the men were almost theatrical about what they were doing. It was certainly a selling point on its own. She had to wonder how someone would even get a business permit for something like this. Did it really matter in a place so far east? Black Hayate would absolutely love one of those bones.
The jarring sound of static found her ear and Riza turned to watch a handful of men taking turns trying to tune a radio sitting on an outdoor table.
"Yeah, I heard someone say it's an absolute mess."
"Well, maybe if they got their asses out of here and did their jobs like they were supposed to, it wouldn't be."
"News should be on in a minute and we can see how hard we get to laugh them out of town."
"Sauce?"
Riza blinked back to her dinner, "Pardon me?"
The jolly man in a stained apron smiled, "Which sauce would you like?"
A choice was made, dinner was dressed, and two long, hefty skewers, each wrapped in some sort of oversized leaf to keep them running everywhere, were handed over to her.
"And the leftovers."
Riza smiled when the pint sized stick, with two squares of smoking meat and a grilled tomato wedged in between them, was handed to her, "Thank you, gentlemen."
Getting everything arranged in her hands and arms, Riza tossed some coins into the tin can of tips and headed back to their lodge, contently nibbling away at her piping hot appetizer. As enjoyable as the short walk had been to get out there, the return trip started out just as pleasant. But, while she whittled down her small skewer, the plainly dressed officer suddenly realized she was watching the streets fill. People were buzzing. They were gathering. When she realized not a single person was actually loitering, Riza curiously made her way over to a crowd to find out what had their attention.
Adding herself to the curious eyes and ears of a gathering of eight, Riza was again struck by the sound of a radio tuner as the antennae were adjusted. Like nobody had checked the volume level, a scratching voice, clear enough to be heard for blocks, exploded from the speakers. The light cheer of the crowd and an announcement of a functioning radio signal drew others over to fill in around the officer. Riza swallowed the last of her appetizer and let the stick fall at her feet as she adjusted the dinner in her arms.
Whatever broadcast was bellowing, it came in mid-sentence, made no sense, so Riza asked a question to the first set of eyes she could meet, "What's going on?"
A woman in a store apron wiped her hands and grinned, "East City Radio is breaking the news on Central City."
"On Central City?" Riza's attention shot back to the radio as another voice came on.
Since it began around 13:00, the volume of people in the streets of Central City has soared. The number of rioters has swelled and that has brought the city to a total standstill.
Hang on. Riza adjusted the weight in her arms - what the hell was she listening to?
Municipal police and military police that remain loyal to the Mitchell Government have amassed around several key points of operation, trying to hold protestors back as they're pummelled with rocks, bricks, and anything people are getting their hands on. It is suspected that, at its onset, the riot was instigated by a dissident military faction in a failed attempt to seize control, however it does not appear that anyone is actively controlling what is going on now. Central City is simply in an uproar.
The officer trapped in a crowd in the eastern outreach of the nation took a bewildered step back and bumped into someone. Spinning over her shoulder, Riza looked out in alarm at the modest crowd that had grown around her, faces mixed with a few concerned frowns and far too many smug grins.
"HA, serves'em right!"
"Everyone's just so goddamn sick of everything that comes out of that city."
"We should have enough pitchforks in town to get those clowns out of our mountain."
The chaotic volume of people is now clearly driven purely by the frustration of local residents filling the streets, who have been unable to sustain their livelihoods for months. At 16:00, in an address directed at the derelict government hiding in Xenotime, stating he spoke on behalf of the citizens of Central City and all neglected regions within Amestris, Major General Hakuro made this address:
"Central City's citizens are rightfully enraged and have had enough of its impotent government…"
A deafening alarm rang through Xenotime, captured only by Riza's ear, as the scratching voice of an East City reporter relayed the words of a man she could hardly tolerate. A man who should have bowed out. A man who was standing on Roy's perch and delivering words he was prepared to give once they'd gotten back.
Putting her shoulder into a laughing woman behind her, Riza thrust her aside, burst free from the crowd, and ran.
The concept of Deutschland absolutely fascinated Dante, so Al gave what little he had to her. Though, he held onto the anglicized names, in case he needed a rabbit hole to send her questions burrowing into.
Al worked in a distraction by bringing up the place Ed had lived, the place Brigitte had come from, and where Envy had engraved the rebound transmutation: München. Dante wanted to know about the city, but Al didn't have much to offer beyond his recollection of the place in the Thule Hall where the transmutation circle was, how his brother had 'attended' the university there, that it was hundreds of years old, and that the native language was called Deutsch. It was a language that his brother had learnt and the only language in Brigitte's head, which was sufficient enough to ensure Dante never made an attempt at anything in Brigitte's mind - she wouldn't be able to either ask a question or understand the reply.
Offering the prospect that his brother had been formally educated beyond the Gate was an uncomfortable gambit for Al to play - it offered the illusion that he had received some kind of formal alchemy training where none existed and that clearly peaked Dante's interest. Accepting Dante believed Ed could summon the Gate at will, Alphonse reluctantly acknowledged that they were at a point where it didn't matter how much knowledge it appeared his brother possessed, Dante was going to rip the country up to acquire him. If Al inflated her perception of him, it certainly wouldn't make the situation worse.
It did, however, finally give Alphonse an opening.
"Maybe Brigitte knows some Cyrillic, too. Something my brother hasn't taught me yet."
Pulling herself up onto her knees in her chair, Dante reached out, clapped her hands lightly, and once again re-heated her tea pot, "And how do you propose we ask her? Did your brother teach you anything in 'Deutsch'?"
Al watched her leerily as she picked up the steaming pot, "No, but he did say he met her at the university. I could show her the Cyrillic characters and find out if she recognizes them. She might have learnt more in school."
Dante carefully held the pot over her own cup and began to pour, "That's not the best use of our time."
Al puffed his cheeks in protest, "I'd at least like to know that she's okay."
Dante offered Nina's smile to him, "She's fine."
Al needed Dante to bend, just a little, and he tried to press, "Why should I believe you? You haven't given me any reason to believe you."
Placing the pot down again, Dante straightened herself in her chair, crossed one leg over the other like her immature body exuded the presence of a powerful woman, and she entertained Alphonse's words, "Considering how unconfident you must be with your brother's words by now, perhaps it would be best if I offer you something that will give you faith in me."
If Al could have rolled his eyes out of his head…
Clasping her hands and setting them neatly down in her lap, Dante nodded to her captive Elric, "Very well, as a gesture in good faith, Alphonse: I'll get Aisa to bring us some writing tools and after you write out the Cyrillic characters you know, and after you provide me with a dozen transmutations for each of them, we will go see Brigitte."
Al's eyes flew wide, "A dozen each!?"
"Twelve. Each," Dante confirmed as an unsettling smile glowed, "I have no doubt that you have many more than that already in your head. Don't be shy with the permutations you choose."
A glaring problem stared Al in the face: beyond how much time that would take, the moment Dante began dissecting the transmutations, she would start to see how pedestrian and clunky the 'Cyrillic Alchemy' he'd learnt was. No matter how he organized writing them out, she'd have that solved by the time he got a quarter of the way through. There had to be something he could do to convince her to take him to see Brigitte, before she began to question his integrity. He needed to manufacture a compromise.
"Why not bring Brigitte here while I write everything out?" Al snatched up a solution, "Then I can see she's okay, and you'll get all the Cyrillic characters, and maybe more if she knows them."
Reaching out, Dante collected the cup of cold, half-filled tea she'd left out for Al earlier and began warming it with water from the pot, "Alphonse, that is a very conscientious, amicable, and diplomatic agreement for the both of us."
Swallowing as Dante put the pot down and stood up from her seat, Al watched her pick up the luke-warm cup of tea and raise it high.
"However, I'm at odds with your request."
Held pretentiously by its handle in one hand, and steadied by tiny splayed fingers at its bottom, the cup was presented neatly in front of her eyes. Al abruptly locked his gaze on Dante as she carried herself around to the side of his chair, until she met the bound Elric at eye-level and offered him an unreadable smile.
Al's mouth went dry when he realized how uncomfortably she was bothering his nerves.
"Why?"
With her fingers woven through the decorative handle, the rim of the pure white porcelain cup landed on Al's lower lip and Dante tucked herself away in the corner of his left eye, "You are not in a position for diplomacy and I am not seeking amicable agreements with anyone."
Al stared wide-eyed into the chaotic reflection of disturbed, dark water at his lower lip and inexplicably breathed in the faint odour of rotting fruit.
Dante's words poured into the young Elric's ear, "Do not be mistaken, until Edward turns up to retrieve his baby brother, you are only here to give me information. I have no obligation, nor interest, in giving anything to you. I do not play children's games. There is no equivalent exchange here - there isn't even 'exchange'."
Al sat silently, a light-headed feeling swallowing him as he listened to Dante reverse the rotation of the room. He didn't need to see her to feel how her smile grew.
"There is only giving and taking, and I do have a number of methods at my disposal that I can use to help myself to whatever I wish from you," the hard, unwavering tone she spoke with picked up a hint of amusement, "the only reason you remain in a position of 'giving' is because I'm not confident your brother has been entirely honest with you, and I don't want to waste resources obtaining falsified or inadequate, second-hand information. So, in order to know how best to proceed with you, I need you to answer a simple question."
Nervous breaths squeaked through Alphonse's nose. His eyes bounced from the figure in his periphery, to the item at his lip, to the empty chair she'd risen from, and landed on the teapot sitting on the cloth covered table.
Dante smiled, "Do you believe your brother has lied to you about the Gate?"
Al returned his attention to the distorted reflection of himself flashing back at him in the unsettled liquid at his mouth.
"Hm?" Dante tilted the cup.
As far as he could in his bindings, Al leaned away, "I-"
When his mouth opened, but before any more words came out, the contents of the luke-warm cup of tea was tipped. It poured over Alphonse's face, flooding his mouth, spilling down his cheeks, chin, and neck, soaking the front of his shirt, and dampening his lap. Dante held the cup to his face while Al squawked and choked, spitting out what she'd tried to force him to ingest and coughing to clear his lungs from what he'd accidentally inhaled. Al clenched his eyes while he wheezed, but shot them open in alarm when Dante slowly dragged the rim of the empty cup down the bridge of his nose, tapping it lightly off the tip.
Nina's pigtails danced around her shoulders as Dante stepped away.
Al gawked at her wordlessly, his nerves fraying as he tried to shake the drips from his chin and his pulse suddenly racing as the empty cup was filled again from the heated pot.
"Your eyes really are gold now, aren't they?"
Al's stomach turned as Dante turned to face him again, steaming cup in hand.
"So pretty."
Entirely at her mercy where he sat, alarms began firing in Al's head as Dante held the cup out for him to view again while she walked around to his side. His eyes flew from the face casting a terrifying, placid look over on him to the cup of steaming tea that accompanied her, until finally Dante lingered at his side again.
Al was forced to snap his head forwards when a tuft of hair on the back of his head was snagged and yanked like a lever, straightening his line of sight. While the remnants of the spilt cup of tea still clung to his chin, the heated rim of a hot, steaming cup landed on Alphonse's lower lip again and froze him. The impish hand that had snagged him let go and Dante's fingers danced their way to the crown of Al's head where she settled into doing nothing more than repeatedly twirling a length around her index finger.
His heart pounding so hard he wondered if it could be heard, Al silently stared dead ahead at the nothingness of a white wall; the steam from the cup dampening the tip of his nose and heating his nostrils.
"Alphonse..." Dante wrapped a soft swatch of hair around her index finger once more while the hot tea cup remained pressed steadily against his lower lip, "it would also be in your best interest to admit if you believe your brother has lied to you about his knowledge of the Gate, if you'd like to make sure Brigitte is okay."
Like he'd forgotten how to breathe, Al couldn't manage to take a breath deep enough to fill his lungs. He sat unmoving in the chair, not even trying to guess what might happen next, "Omitted, maybe."
The cup of hot tea slipped away. Al's eyes followed it over to his shoulder and watched silently as Dante put the cup to her lips, blew on it, and took a thin sip.
"Go on," she preened, "and I'll bring Brigitte over when I'm satisfied with your answer."
Al stared silently at the tiny witch at his shoulder, his emotions strung so haphazardly through frustration, anger, fear, and disappointment that he didn't know which one to latch on to, so he sat quietly in a pool filled with all of them. In the end, it didn't matter how he felt, or what emotion he wanted to convey, Alphonse wasn't in a position where he had enough power to contend with her. Dante was just a monster playing with her captured prey before she grew hungry enough to devour him.
And Al needed to keep playing with her, keep feeding her, until help arrived - even if that meant he lost all the games.
To Be Continued...
Author's Note:
I wrote Riza's section and had to go make dinner =A= I don't miss living in farm country, but do I miss living in farm country sometimes haha.
I have no problems picking on Ed, but I always feel bad picking on Al. Al deserves headpats not Dante...
Next chapter: 2021-09-19 :)