The Golden Sun: Chapter Nineteen: Suppression
AN: We've been seeing so much of Ed's side of things that its time to switch gears.
Just to reiterate: this is not the same plot at the manga and Brotherhood. At this point, this fic is canon adjacent so 'Father's Plan' is not coming into play. There is a massive climax for the last two books of this fic, but its not the same as 'Father's Plan'
"I am going to give you a list of names," Teacher told Al, "you are going to write them down and then I'm going to tell you what to do with them when I'm done."
"Uh-okay?" Al scrambled to grab a pen and a small journal like the one Ed was always writing his code into, plucked from one of the few pockets that came from the strap of leather that was wound around the armor's waist.
"The sisters Corniche and Seraph Royce, Aston Martin, Jack Crowley, Lute Daimler, Elma Lincor, Berthold Hawkeye, and Arlen Glostner."
Al wrote them all down and then Teacher cleared her throat, taking a drink of water from the glass beside her.
"You should know that any alchemist worth their salt has found themselves drawn to Xerxes and studied it with great interest," Teacher explained. "How could we not? It was where alchemy first began…it was too tempting a kind of forbidden knowledge to pass up…alchemists are far too curious for their own good; there's a reason that Human Transmutation is taboo."
Al paused, taking note of the bitterness in her voice. "Teacher?" he asked cautiously. Her eyes were distant and unfocused, a hand resting on her stomach.
"He would've been your age," she'd told the brothers once and it was so easy to see how one event had shaped her life so completely.
"I'm all right," Teacher said with a sigh, righting herself, her eyes sharpening in an instant. "If you mentioned Xerxes to any of the alchemists you know, they would probably tell you variations of the same story. That it interested them when they were young, that they looked into it but found that there was little to be learned from books, like Amestris had suppressed all the written word concerning the Empire of Xerxes."
"That's what we thought too," Al admitted, vaguely startled.
Teacher took a tissue from the bedside, coughing wetly into it and Al saw specks of bright red blood strewn across the white before she dropped it into the trashcan beside her bed, collecting with the others. Al would've winced if his body would allow it, but, even then Teacher wouldn't have appreciated it.
"So, the basics are that there was once a great empire called Xerxes whose capital, Persepolis was smack in the middle of what we now know as the Eastern Desert. You can still see influences of Xerxes, though, it reached far and wide and the rumor is a great deal of Xerxes used to be located where Amestris now is."
Al's pen moved quickly but he couldn't help but be impressed. "It used to be where Amestris is? But…" He paused. "That's pretty big."
Teacher snorted. "It was an empire, we are a country, one that is paved in blood. It's easier to think of Xerxes and Xing as being on par with one another in size," she explained. Xing, Al knew, was a very large country. Of course, it had to be, he supposed, if there were fifty clans, all vying for the throne. "Of course, I'm sure Xing was smaller back then…Xerxes was ruled by a monarchy that had two sons, there were a lot of rumors about the 'Lost Prince' and even more about the 'Mad Prince of Xerxes'."
"That doesn't sound good," Al muttered.
"Several alchemists I'd met believed that the Mad Prince was the one behind Xerxes destruction," Teacher had to agree, "but no one is actually completely sure…they're not even completely sure how Xerxes was destroyed."
Al started. "I thought the Philosopher's Stone was involved?"
"That's what the books say," but Teacher shrugged her shoulders. "The Philosopher's Stone allows an alchemist to bypass equivalent exchange, but there's always been a question about what you need to sacrifice in order to create one."
Al's pen paused at that. He and Ed hadn't considered that. They'd just been trying to find the damn thing, they hadn't even considered it could be made, or even what it would take to make one. "Who would even know how to make one?" he asked.
Teacher pursed her lips. "I don't think the people who know are telling…which probably means its ingredients are less than tasteful…but don't give up," she added, noticing how his shoulders slumped, "even if the Philosopher's Stone won't get your bodies back, it might put you on the path of what will."
Al bobbed his head in agreement. "So, is that all you know about it?"
"Pretty much, like I said, there's not much on it…you'd probably find more information in the Ruins of Xerxes though I doubt you'd be able to understand Xerxian."
"Well, you never know," Al forced his voice into being so bright but her sad smile told him that he hadn't fooled her.
"You remember those names I told you?" she asked, and he flipped back to them. "Each of those alchemists, including your mother, had an interest in Xerxes, one that was known to other alchemists."
"Okay?" Al didn't want to think about why that was important, but he was sure that Teacher would know.
"Each of those alchemists is dead."
Al almost broke his pen, lifting his helmet to meet her eyes.
"After Berthold's death, I think your mother must've gotten suspicious and decided to go to Central…I remember you told me that one week shortly before her death she left to see an old friend," Teacher screwed up her brow in thought. "A few weeks later she passed away from an apparent illness."
"Are you—" Al's words failed him. "Are you trying to say our mother was murdered?" He didn't care if she noticed how much his voice shook.
"I'm saying…I have a lot of information on each of those alchemists that you might want to look at before you lose your temper with me," Teacher spoke sharply, noticing how his tone had shifted colder; his temper had always been far icier than Ed's. "Look through that, then we'll talk again, all right?"
Even though his body couldn't feel anything, Al couldn't help but feel uncommonly cold.
Roy slept terribly with dreams that started simple enough before twisting into nightmares. A memory that Roy had practically forgotten. All the red eyes had melded together over the years; any Ishvalan could've been any other Ishvalan and Roy had killed far too many to be able to differentiate anymore.
"So, you became a soldier after all, Roy," his master's words were disdainful and disgust, his attention focused in front of him, on a letter that Roy couldn't make out from where he was standing.
"Yes, master," Roy said simply, "my goal is to pass the state alchemist test and devote myself to serving my country."
Master Hawkeye looked back then and there was something in his eye that unsettled Roy, too young to have found death and decay more unsettling. "Apparently you're still not ready to learn my flame alchemy."
Roy felt a spike of anger. "But sir! Have I not mastered all the fundamentals of alchemy that you've taught me?"
"You have," Master Hawkeye said, "and it was a waste to teach even the basics to someone who would stoop so low as to become a dog of the military."
"But alchemy should be used for the masses!" Roy insisted. "Master, I believe that working in the military will allow me to better help the public. Our nation is constantly under threat from neighboring countries. In order to protect our citizens its urgent that we strengthen our military and alchemy is—"
"I'm tired of hearing that rhetoric," Master Hawkeye said with a sigh. He certainly sounded it. "I have only known one decent State Alchemist…and do you know why she joined the military?"
"No," Roy said honestly, thunderstruck that he was talking about something so personal, which he never did.
"Her father had just died and she needed a way to care for her mother, and when her mother was gone, she stayed because it was what she knew, because she had two children to look after…it was only when the military was on the cusp of going to war with her people that she resigned."
Roy's mouth went dry. So, his friend was an Ishvalan State Alchemist? As far as Roy knew, there'd only been one; he'd seen glimpses of her in papers, but far too indistinct to recognize on sight.
"I know from her experience that the military is a dangerous place," Master Hawkeye said. "The last time they offered me a State Alchemist position I spat in their faces."
"But, why?" Roy was lost. "They have access to research materials that could—"
"I completed my research years ago," Master Hawkeye cut him off. "My technique is the greatest and the most powerful form of alchemy but in the wrong hands it would bring nothing but ill fortune…I became too complacent. Alchemists are creatures who must search for Truth as long as they live, she taught me that."
Master Hawkeye stood swiftly and twisted unevenly to fix Roy with a stare that burned through him.
"It's a pity," he said thickly, "that I have no more time to teach you…all my notes from my research are held by my daughter—" He coughed suddenly and vomited a sea of blood.
"Master Hawkeye!" Roy leapt forward.
"Look after my daughter," he rasped with difficulty and a door was thrown open with a loud yell of "Berthold!"
Roy struggled to hold up Master Hawkeye and turn to see Riza behind a woman wearing a loose blue dress, the traditional orange and black sash wound around her waist undoubtedly hidden when her coat was shut. Her red eyes were wide, dark brown hair pushed aside to account for a braid, cheeks just lightly tanned. There were sunglasses clutched in her hand. You would've never known she was Ishvalan without them.
"Berthold!" she called again as Roy helped Master Hawkeye back to sit in his chair, pale as a ghost, fading fast. Roy didn't know what to do. She came to his side, fingers fluttering along his neck, worry shining in her eyes. "Tell me what's wrong! Tell me what's happened!"
There was a mark on the meat of her palm, Roy realized then, like a sideways Z. Roy had seen it once before, when Master Hawkeye had pulled his hair up, he had an identical mark on the nape of his neck.
But when she fixed her eyes on Roy, she was covered in blood, staining her chest and her face.
"Meddle with my children, Roy Mustang, and you will pay the price." Her bloodstained smirk was painfully like Ed's. "You think I'd ever allow the Monster of Ishval to touch my children with his gloves so stained in the blood of our people?"
And then Roy shot up in bed, breathing hard, sweat plastering his hair to his face. His heart was racing, like it was trying to burst out of his chest. He wondered vaguely if Ed dreamed about that night that he and Al had tried to bring their mother back and if the thing they'd transmuted had ever looked as terrifying as Trisha Elric had in his nightmare.
But what's one more Ishvalan? The darkest side of his mind asked, the one that had weathered the Ishvalan War, shutting down almost all emotional responses to what he'd seen, to what he'd done.
"Shut up," he muttered out loud, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes before rolling over to flip on the lamp at his bedside and impulsively pick up the phone and dial a familiar number.
He regretted it the instant Gracia tiredly picked up with a "Hello?"
"Gracia," he said thickly, "I-I'm sorry about calling, I just—"
"Oh, Roy," she said and it almost hurt how unsurprised her tone was, "hang on, Maes is here."
There was the faint sound of rustling with the phone undoubtedly being handed off to her husband. "Roy," came Hughes' concerned voice, "what's wrong? You don't usually call this late."
Roy had stopped; he didn't want to impose on the Hughes, particularly Gracia and Elicia, but that didn't mean his nightmares had stopped. Ironically, the best night sleep he'd gotten had been when Ed and Al spent the night after Ed's excursion into the Eastern Desert, returning with Lanfan in tow. Now, the Elrics were the cause of his nightmares. "I'm sorry for—"
"Don't worry about it," Hughes waved him off. "Tell me what's wrong."
"Tell me what's wrong!" Trisha Elric echoed in his mind and Roy pressed a hand to his brow.
"It was a nightmare -it started like a memory, but then she grabbed me and there was so much blood—" Roy's voice shook and he looked down at his own hands, fully expecting to see the crimson splashed across his hands.
"She who?" Hughes asked with so much gentle patience that it almost broke Roy.
"Trisha Elric," Roy forced the name out, "Ed and Al's mother…I'd forgotten that she was an old friend of Master Hawkeye's…" He'd murmured something to her before he'd passed and she'd paled, taking off before Roy could ask her to stop, not even knowing if he should.
According to the records, Trisha Elric had died a week later in her home, surrounded by her children and her family of friends, from a supposed illness. Now Roy was starting to get suspicious.
"She had red eyes," he told Hughes flatly.
"Ah," Hughes said intelligently, "have you talked with Ed or Al about it?"
Roy nearly snapped 'of course not!', but his silence was telling enough.
"Roy." Hughes sighed audibly on the other end. "Don't you think this is something you should be talking about with them?"
"Have you seen Ed angry?" Roy asked dubiously. "The kid'd find a way to set me on fire."
"Roy," Hughes said again and Roy gritted his teeth, "you can't avoid them forever, besides, they both seemed to care a lot about you; I've seen you three interact, you know."
"Ed will still kill me," Roy countered before a horrified realization grew, "and Al will never speak to me again." Somehow, that was worse, Roy thought.
"Still," Hughes insisted, "it's not something you can will into disappearing. The longer you wait, the angrier they'll probably get."
Roy grimaced, thinking about how Ed violently exploded at the faintest mention of his father who hadn't been a part of their lives for nearly ten years; he really didn't want to be considered on the same level as Van Hohenheim, but he couldn't help but think that was the direction he was going in.
But Roy was a coward, and he wasn't afraid to admit that. If you'd asked him a week ago if he'd be willing to talk to the Elric Brothers after a surprising reveal of information regarding who they were related to, he would've said yes, but now…now Roy wanted to flee back to East City in an effort to avoid them.
(Luckily, Al wasn't even in the city limits. He pulled off disappointment and bone-deep anger very well for a suit of armor)
He remembered Ed asking about the Ishvalan War, curiosity glowing in his eyes…had he even known then what he was asking? But Ed wasn't needlessly cruel, not about something like that; he had his own traumas that had taught him to be careful about others'.
"Thanks, Maes," he said finally, "sorry for waking you."
"Don't worry about it." Roy hated how earnest his voice was. "Try and get some sleep, won't you?"
"I'll try," Roy said, but he didn't believe he would manage it, and sure enough, within the hour, Roy was waking up to dreams of vacant golden eyes and pooling blood.
"You must think I'm stupid."
There was a warm chuckle on the other end of the phone and Ed looked down at the picture in his hands of his mom in the middle of a laugh with her arm around Gerah, his white hair tied back and his red eyes gleaming. Mom had gotten on with everyone in Resembool, but Gerah probably the most; his family had been from a town one over from where Grandma Binah was from. "Not really, I mean, you and Al were kids who didn't really care much to differentiate between the people you lived near, there wasn't really a divide of Amestrian townspeople and Ishvalan townspeople…honestly, I think Trisha was happier about that."
It didn't help Ed with feeling stupid, though.
"Your mother was a private person," Gerah added as an assurance. "It's not stupid to not realize something she never talked about…besides, physically you take more after your father -I know you don't like to hear that, but you and Al are his spitting image."
Ed nearly growled at the mention of Hohenheim, but he reined it in.
"Al's got her temper, I think," Gerah added, "her anger always ran icy cold…but I see more of her in your face."
"You-really?" Ed was vaguely thrown off by that. No one had ever said he'd looked like Mom before.
"Really," Gerah laughed. "But if you wanted to learn more about our culture, you could always ask any older Ishvalan that you see in Central, they wouldn't turn you away, particularly the elders."
"But they don't like the military," Ed pointed out with a frown. The Ishvalan population was easy to find, unfortunately, most being located in the slums. Ed and Al had played with a few of the kids before.
"They don't, but its kind of ingrained in us to treat those who are golden-haired and golden-eyed with kindness," Gerah explained. "Extend Sister Xerxes a hand, I believe is how the saying goes."
Ed opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Lanfan's explanation about Xerxes and the Xerxians stuck in his mind, about how she'd instantly thought he was one from his coloring.
"Ed?"
"Sorry," Ed said quickly, righting himself, "but you're sure there's not a book or anything that I could read on Ishvalan culture and language? I'm not the best with people."
"I had no idea." Ed could hear Gerah's smile. "But there are books, undoubtedly, in the Central City library on our culture…I'm not so sure about the language side…I suppose there could be basics on Ishvalan, but it helps more to learn it from an actual person, but you could certainly try."
Ed sighed. "Thanks anyways."
"No problem," Gerah assured him, "don't you boys be afraid to call for anything."
Ed bit his lip briefly before promising, ending the call and examining the photo in his hand, eyes flicking back to the pile of the pictures he'd found tucked away. On the top was a picture of Mom standing next to man with lanky blonde hair pulled back in a short ponytail, both holding up a piece of paper with an unfamiliar transmutation circle across it, looking very proud.
The thick envelope that had Mom's name on it remained unopened and although Ed's curiosity had peaked the day he'd found it, it wasn't fair to open it when Al wasn't there, so he was just going to have to wait until Al came back.
His stomach twisted uncomfortably and Ed rubbed over his neck where his soulmark was. For some reason he had a bad feeling…
Al had known about Lieutenant Hawkeye's father being dead, so it wasn't a surprise to read it in the file, but Teacher had gone further and Al didn't know how she'd gotten autopsy results, but they were there, including blood tests that indicated a foreign substance had been found in his blood…and for some reason investigating that further had been put at a standstill.
Now that was pretty suspicious…and then Al got to the others.
Corniche and Seraph Royce were a pair of young alchemists gifted in medical alchemy who hadn't been with the military but had gone to help with the war effort in Ishval. They'd been like Aunt Sarah and Uncle Yuriy, helping both Amestrian and Ishvalan alike…no cared about two more dead Ishvalans, even two revered alchemists such as the Royce Sisters.
The story was the same for Aston Martin, Jack Crowley, Lute Daimler, Elma Lincor, and Arlen Glostner. Promising alchemists who died suddenly without warning. Some randomly, a mugging gone wrong, another was a car accident, another had a sudden infection that claimed their life too suddenly…it was all too strange, too coincidental.
And by Teacher's explanations, they'd been the ones that had known the most about Xerxes…it almost seemed like they'd been on an exclusive list, a hit list, only they were trying to make it as unnoticeable as possible that each of the people on the list were being killed on purpose.
It made Al uneasy about Mom.
It made Al uneasy about Teacher.
It made Al uneasy in general, and he didn't like feeling so uneasy about it.
Lanfan was watching Ling tonight while Fu was doing some investigating, and by investigating, he meant taking up residence outside the Imperial Palace, on the window outside the Emperor's bedroom.
It wasn't a particular favorite pastime of his, but desperate times call for desperate measures. He could feel the tension building, he'd felt it since the day they'd come back from Amestris, and it had only grown. It was expanding like a balloon steadily filling with air that was soon going to reach its breaking point.
And it was Fu job to make sure that Ling wasn't in the line of fire when that happened, and so far, everything had gone according to plan; there had been no other attempts on his life.
But Fu got the feeling that that was about to change.
Xing Ying hadn't been nearly as suspicious as of late, which in itself was suspicious. The firstborn son of the Emperor was the one everyone looked to when a tragedy befell an heir of one of the fifty clans, but he always seemed to come out on top, uncommonly clean, even by Fu's standards.
But there wasn't really any questioning that he was behind what was happening in the background, there was just no one willing to do anything about it. It was like living in a fascist state, if the Emperor hadn't been bad to begin with.
Fu was jarred out of his thoughts suddenly at the sound of a door creaking open suddenly and he made sure that no matter what, he would remain unseen to the person who just entered.
It was Xing Ying and Fu had to stare.
There was blood coating half his face and his left eye looked ruined beyond repair. The blade in his hand was coated in crimson. Honestly, the firstborn had never quite struck him as a strong opponent, let alone one that could protect himself or kill others; he had others do his dirty work for him.
But he cut a fearsome and somewhat terrifying figure and Fu watched him carefully and wondered why he was approaching the bed of his slumbering father with a sword and why none of the Emperor's guards were stopping him…but then the explanation for his injuries appeared.
If Ling hadn't hated the Emperor so much, if Lanfan hadn't hated the Emperor so much, if Fu hadn't hated the Emperor so much…he would've done something, but when he saw Xing slit the Emperor's throat, Fu ran, knowing only one thing; Ling Yao wouldn't last the night if he remained in Xing.
AN: Drama on the Xing front, intrigue on the Xerxes front. There's a lot going on in the fic right now but it'll get less chaotic sooner or later :)
As always: PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE REVIEW!
