Chapter 4
Adam wanted to scream in frustration. Riza Hawkeye had served with the military, had been an exceptional officer from what he could glean – there were even records of her after the Fall of the Military.
But then she vanished. There were records of an R. Hawkeye up until six years ago, then they simply cut out. Nothing, nada, zip.
He was getting really tired of dead ends.
Adam was still in a bad mood when he was tutoring Thomas. It was so apparent to all around him, even the child picked it up.
"Are you okay, Mr. Lithson?"
Adam dredged up a smile. "I'm fine, kid. Just in a bad mood."
"How come?"
"I'm doing a story, and I need to find a woman called Riza Hawkeye, except about six years ago, any record of her just cuts out. I haven't been able to find anything on her."
"Maybe you're looking in the wrong place," a voice sounded from behind him.
Adam jumped. Thomas' father – a Mr. Jean Havoc – had come up behind them.
"Daddy!" Thomas shrilled, seizing one of the arms of his father's wheelchair.
Jean chuckled, ruffling his son's hair. "As I was saying," he addressed Adam again. "You're looking in the wrong place."
"I checked every record there was," Adam defended, "There was nothing, not even a record of where a Miss Riza Hawkeye worked!"
"Well, there wouldn't be, would there?" Jean smirked. "Six years ago, Miss Riza Hawkeye became Mrs. Riza Mustang."
Five seconds of silence.
"A marriage!" Adam gaped. "I nearly lost the trail because of a marriage?"
"I can give you their address if you want," Jean said affably. "You want it?"
"Mr. Havoc, I would be beyond grateful."
oooooooo
435 Maison Avenue, home of Riza and Roy Mustang, was a nice house. Not particularly large or extravagant, but it gave off a 'lived-in' feeling…a feeling of home. It was painted in soft beiges and cool blues, with expansive windows. A large yard was bordered by a neatly-trimmed hedge, with a battered swing set standing in the centre and a line of washing hanging out to dry.
As he approached, Adam couldn't help thinking it looked touchingly domestic.
Adam rang the doorbell, listening to the chimes reverberate throughout the house. The door opened, and Adam found himself looking at a young girl, about four years old. Curious red-brown eyes peered up at him from under a mop of soft black hair.
"Hello," Adam greeted, "I'm looking for Mrs. Riza Mustang."
A man appeared in the doorway. His hair was the same colour as the girl's, and his eyes were a piercing coal-black. Adam knew the look of a military man when he saw it, and this man definitely had it. The straight back, the set shoulders, the muscles slightly tensed with a wariness he had yet to discard. He had the air of a commander, but when he spoke his voice was surprisingly soft.
One hand rested on the girl's shoulder. "Grace, why don't you go find your Mummy?"
The girl – apparently named Grace – nodded and disappeared into the house.
Her father gave an easy smile and introduced himself.
"I'm Riza's husband, Roy Mustang."
"Pleased to meet you," Adam said, shaking the proffered hand. "I'm Adam Lithson."
"What do you want to see Riza for?" Roy asked as he invited Adam inside.
"I'm becoming a journalist, and I need Mrs. Mustang's written permission to access some of the more sensitive records to get the information I want."
Roy nodded as he guided Adam through a corridor. Both men sat at the kitchen table, and Adam took silent stock of his surroundings.
The floor beneath his feet was tiled, and the table was made of some sort of light-coloured wood he couldn't identify. Two framed pictures sat on a shelf. One showed a small wedding party in front of a church; Roy standing beside a woman Adam assumed was Riza – a blonde woman with the same redwood-coloured eyes as the young girl. The other photo was of the family, the couple standing with their daughter between them.
The room was tidy, but there was definite signs a child's habitation. A few crayons and a pile of paper tucked into a corner, a single shoe tossed underneath a chair.
"So," Roy began, "What is it you need to find?"
"I'm trying to track down a woman called Winry Rockbell," Adam explained, "You might know her as Blue Eyes."
Roy raised an eyebrow as his mouth opened. But before he could reply, they were interrupted by the arrival of the very person Adam had wanted to see.
Riza Mustang was an imposing woman. Not in the sense of height or build, but in the way she radiated authority and calm assurance. Adam easily identified her as the woman in the wedding photo, though her hair was slightly longer now, and a slight bulge at her stomach told him the couple was expecting their second child.
"You wanted to see me, Mr…"
"Lithson, Adam Lithson. Mrs. Mustang, I wanted to talk to you about the woman in this photo." He handed her the famous Blue Eyes photograph. "The woman is-"
"Winry Rockbell," Riza nodded, though she seemed saddened. "I met her on several occasions."
"I'm looking for information on her, but I'm afraid I need your permission to access the records."
Riza shook her head. For a moment, Adam thought she was refusing his request, but then she spoke again.
"The records about her are scarce at best…to learn about Winry, you should see Edward Elric."
"What?" Adam was shocked. "But the records and newspapers say that both Elric brothers died during the riots."
"They do?" Roy snorted, "What do you know, you do learn something new everyday."
Riza frowned. "Yes, everyone thought that for a while. It turned out there was a case of mistaken identity – some people claiming to be the Elric brothers had been killed – but I thought it had been straightened out long ago."
Adam shook his head. "The records still list both brothers as casualties of war."
"Just goes to show, you can't trust paperwork," Roy grinned.
Riza's eyes narrowed, but her only answer was her husband's unrepentant grin. Adam couldn't help but feel that there was some history between them in regards to paperwork.
"In any case, Mr. Lithson," Riza addressed him once more. "I guarantee the Elric brothers are alive and perfectly healthy. They come to visit now and then – they live in Risembool."
On the way out, Adam nearly ploughed two women into the sidewalk. A mousy-blonde teenager with startling green eyes was approaching the Mustangs's door with a woman Adam had no trouble identifying as her mother.
"Oh, hello," the woman smiled. "Are you a friend of the Mustangs?"
Adam laughed, "Not exactly, I was just calling in for some information. I'm Adam Lithson, by the way."
The woman smiled. "Gracia Hughes, and this is my daughter, Elysia."
"Pleased to meet you." Adam shook the extended hands.
"Well, perhaps we'll see you around."
"Maybe so."
With another serene smile, Gracia disappeared into the house with her daughter in tow. Adam trotted down the driveway, his mind already on other things.
Like how to get to Risembool.
oooooooo
Adam did his homework. Before booking a train ticket to Risembool, he found out all he could about the town.
Risembool had been a bustling town until the Civil War, then it just seemed to shut down. The Rockbell automail (and Adam had been overjoyed to find that name, but slightly disappointed to learn it had been Winry's grandmother who had run it) had been practically the only thing keeping the place alive. Then came the Fall of the Military.
From what accounts indicated, when the Elric brothers first began working against the military, it had thrown the Council into a panic. They had known about the formidable abilities of both alchemists, and feared that they might be able to attract others to the rebel side. So, desperate to root them out, the military targeted Risembool, a known 'bolt-hole' of the Elric Brothers.
The entire town was taken by the military. And on July 16th 1917, all the inhabitants were marched from their homes and massacred in the fields. Even nine years on, the day was still known as the Night of Blood, the advent of one of the military's most inhuman slaughters.
But the land had been valuable, so the fields and houses had been left untouched. Which was why, after the Fall of the Military, people returned to Risembool. People whose houses had been destroyed, and were looking for a place to call home. Almost overnight, the town's population went from zero to over a hundred.
And that was just the beginning. More and more displaced families began to make their homes there, soon new houses were being built in barren fields, and land was being bought to help support a family. It only took four years for Risembool to transform from a backwater village to a chaotic town.
The Fall of the Military had first killed Risembool, then saved it.