All Eras Must End

3: Joaquin

Joaquin raised an eyebrow, amused, as he saw Maes and Alia escort a twelve and ten year old towards his mansion. He chuckled to himself softly at the expression on Maes's face, sipping at a glass of wine in his hand. He had never been much of a drinker; oh but he had the head for it. It was simply personal preference that he refused to indulge himself, it fogged up the mind entirely too much for his liking, though his father had said that the rest of the family had no problem in risking a few bottles. He frowned a bit, but not much, lost in his own thoughts. He did not know how he would react to these two newcomers, young children, as it were. He knew possible solutions, possible outcomes, but how to approach children, who were usually innocent and free of chains of hatred and spite, he knew not how to deal with.

He could deal with adults twice his age, three times his age, yes, but not with the confusing innocence of a child.

It was times like these that he wished he had the advice of an older man, a man who had seen more of the world than he had in his eighteen years, to guide him through trials like these. His father was out of the question, though he was more than capable of deducing problamatic situations, his mannerisms were rough, straight-forward, and to-the-point. It was not the way that Joaquin found best to do tricky business, and it was this way, he thought, that he and his grandsire were most alike. He wished he could have met the man himself, but he had died years before Joaquin's birth.

Another regretful loss... regretful indeed.

It was obvious that Maes was also inept at understanding children. Being a year older than himself, he had always expected Maes to know just a bit more than he did, though his close friend didn't outstrip him by much. Joaquin wondered if Maes really did have feelings for Alia. If so, then it would be unwise to share his own feelings.

He shook his head vigorously. This was not something to think about in the tactical state of mind, it had to be thought of from the heart. Or so his father liked to emphasize. Joaquin thought that maybe he had had a point. A tactical commander did have more things to think about than strategies, life, and death. There were also the small things that life offered, even if they were few and far apart. He must confront Maes about it later and sort the matter out, bring it to light once and for all. Then maybe...

He put the glass down on the expansive porch railing, folding his arms over his chest. He had had many problems in Rivant about his face, his body as a whole. The problem to the people was that he looked entirely too much like an Amestran, not enough like a Rivantian. They talked as if he could help the fact he was only half-and-half, that he could help that he looked more like his father than his mother. If they wanted the Heir Apparent to look like a bloody Rivantian, then they could bypass him and elect James as the heir to the damn throne, James who looked like his mother and was enough bloody Rivantian to please the public.

The irritation from his thoughts must have shown on his face because Maes gave him an odd look and Alia looked concerned. He smoothed over his features and regarded the two children, calculating.

They looked small and thin, blonde, the two of them, one of amber eyes, the other blue. One girl and one boy, small and thin, afraid, haggard, tired. They were second borns alright, genuine the pair of them. He sighed and opened the door to the mansion, a large ornate affair of wood and metal work, done ages ago but by the upkeep looked new. He picked the glass off of the porch and gestured for them to step inside. The boy's eyes were drawn to a insignia on his coat shoulder. Joaquin noticed the object of the boy's curiousity and plucked at it.

"This signifies my position as Heir to the Flame, the Mustang Family line."

"You would do well to keep that little fact quiet, Sir," Alia murmured quietly, her green eyes never moving from his.

"I agree, Joaquin, it would not be wise for the military to find out you're a Mustang," Maes murmured. Joaquin shrugged. "First and foremost, I am Mustang. Only after that am I Rivant. I will not deny who I am. To do so would dishonor the men who gave their lives to keep the family alive."

"You speak as if you're the only one left in the Mustang line, Sir."

"Perhaps, in a sense, I am. James takes no pride in being of the Mustang line. For that I cannot blame him, he's just a child, but he can't understand the magnitude, the measure of responsibility that my position recquires. I am solely responsible for carrying this line forward, yet here I am risking life and limb for the country I originate from, the land of my grandfather. Am I rash, do you think? Alia? Maes?"

Maes folded his arms as well, as if thinking. "You are at times, Joaquin, and at times you can bea royal pain in the ass, but beside those times you are also a leader and leaders must think of survival and self-preservation, not so much of nostalgia and ancestral linkage. Also, is that disdain I hear in your voice for James?"

"Not in the slightest," Joaquin replied, slightly indignant. "He's my brother, I love him well. It is with... regret that I express myself."

Maes sighed. His friend could be a royal pain in the ass.

"I'm sure James misses you, Joaquin."

"I'm sure he does too; I write whenI can, and to father sometimes as well."

"Why not to your mother, Joaquin?"

"It's obvious, isn't it? She'll get my uncle to put a binding and tracking Jutsu on the letter so she can incapacitate me and track me down here. The end result would be my forceful removal from Amestris to back home."

Alia stifled a laugh. "That does sound like your mother, Sir..."

"She can be a regular witch when she wants to be..." Joaquin muttered. "But enough about me, how about our two newcomers?"

The two kids jumped.

"Names?" Joaquin asked.

"Um... Eric... Lee Elric... and this is Raine Havoc."

"Elric and Havoc. Alright. You have family cooped up in military holding areas, am I correct? Specify who, if you can."

"I-I... my dad is in there... and my grandfather and his brother... and my grandmother too..."

"They took Mama and Papa... and Grandpapa too..." Raine sniffed, thinking of her grandfather Jean.

"I see... Elrics and Havocs... those are quite a few. Usually the military takes the ones needed and no more... but according to my references... Edward Elric the First and Jean Havoc are both First-Borns. Something doesn't fit here... Any possible solutions?"

"The exploits of Edward Elric the First and Jean Havoc are famous, both having been in the original war under your grandsire, Roy Mustang, to wrench power from the grasp of Fuhrer King Bradley during the second Ishbal War. After that, they were also participants in the War of Memories, the war between Amestris, Falcona, and Rivant, but I'm sure you know of that war, Joaquin?"

"Of course. My parents were married soon after as a result of that war, I was born a year later. Maes was born right before the war ended. It's quite an anomaly, actually. Who knows how much of the detail in that war was made up? It is impossible to bring back the dead, yet they talk like they saw the dead. It makes no sense. Agh! Enough side-tracking.

"You two! Do you want to help abolish the rule of second-born children?"

Raine and Eric nodded hesitantly.

"Then you're among friends here; here is the offensive-branch of the rebel 'Liberators', though I disagree with the term that they gave us, the 'Crusaders'. My branch is devoted to pure offense, meaning that any disruption you've heard of in military facilities was done by me."

"But if it's a... branch... shouldn't there be more people? The house looks empty," Eric pointed out, and Raine nodded in agreement.

"Ah, but you should never think an empty house is truly empty," Joaquin said, pulling up some floor tiles to reveal an alchemical array. He put his hands to it and it glowed, the metal spots in the stone converging to form a hinge and a handle. Joaquin reached down and pulled it up, revealing a whole underground equivalent of the mansion.

"This is our stronghold, this is a place that even the military cannot hope to penetrate."