Chapter 18

Plans

Alphonse

Opium clouded his brain with brilliant landscapes of

rainbow colors. Occasionally, it shifted, and bubbles of light fancifully bounced across the endlessly stretching tower of stone. He was lost, and barely noticed the attendants darting about the room, in a rush of wedding fervor.

A part of him felt the dim traces of relief he'd had mind enough to make a cast to hide his now mended arm. They'd arrived shortly after, and Rudolph dosed him heavily, then came to the conclusion that Alphonse's fever was too high for him to attend the wedding.

One of the maids tucked him into bed, with Einstein faithfully at his side. She let him lie there in a daze, as they dashed around preparing the room and Edward for the day's activities.

Alphonse wasn't sure, but through the haze he saw Edward. The older boy sat in the bathroom, golden eyes glazed and blank as he was washed and dressed by Rudolph. The man appeared to mock Edward as if it was some perverse joke that he should be in Rudolph's care. Out of the sight of the staff, the apparently controlled German teased and toyed with the boy. Washed clean, Edward's bruises were covered by flesh tone makeup. When finished, the man regained his reserve.

Rudolph helped Edward to stand while one of the servants finished pulling on his short wasted tuxedo jacket. Edward didn't argue, and he appeared strangely cooperative with the staff.

The behavior bothered Alphonse, but the colors kept drawing his mind to the tickling of the blankets as they shifted with his movements in the bed.

The kitten chewed on his long tangled hair, and was shooed off by the woman attempting to change the pillowcases. She cursed, and complained to her companions. Yet Al couldn't understand what they were saying.

Edward was getting married against his will. The words kept turning over in his mind as he watched. He wasn't going. That was a good thing; he didn't know if he'd have the reserve to idly sit back and witness his brother lose complete control over his life.

But he'd have to if his plan was to work. And he was too weak to act rashly.

A moment later, someone guided Edward to the door.

The elder boy's presence was strong, and Al saw a swirling red aura bleeding off of him. Long gold bangs framed his face. They were neatly cut, not shaggy. His long hair was tied against the base of his neck, rather than at the back of his head, and his face was flushed.

Those eyes didn't focus, and looked confused. Only for a brief instant did Edward wave someone off of him, voice slurring and disjointed.

Rudolph floated into view. His narrow, hawkish features peered at Edward with amusement. He placed his hands on the young man's shoulders and looked him up and down. "His tie needs to be adjusted," he said sharply. To Edward he smirked; and for a moment, Alphonse saw a dark unyielding fire burning around him like a seething black hole of hatred. "I suggest you behave. Herr Elric, we have invited several guests to see this lovely occasion. The Kaiser is making an effort to ensure your scientific reputation in the outside world."

He moved too quickly for Alphonse to follow, and once more the teen was drowning in a sea of shifting forms and unfocused color.

Alphonse closed his eyes, swimming in the swirling wake of contrasting tones. Then suddenly, the world went black. Alphonse's attention drifted with the quiet movements of the staff tending to the room.

He wasn't sure of how long he lay there, nor was he sure if he had fallen asleep.

What he was sure of was his mind was with Edward. For a flicker from behind closed lids he witnessed swirling red and in the center, Edward stood blindfolded before a painting. Two servants flanked him on either side, with Rudolph, and Gregor.

Noa, in a delicate dress was led up behind him. The dress was delicate, with a low-waisted petal pleated skirt. The silken material was embellished with lace and tiny pearls and very fine. A flowered crown adorned her head, and a long veil draped over her face and down her back. Her hair was sculpted in delicate curls and her dark skin was finely made up; making her look like one of those exotic dancers from the east.

How strange, it occurred to the boy, he was looking down at them, watching them parade into the passage behind the painting. Yet how could this be? With an effort, Alphonse opened his eyes, but there was no bed, no room, no Einstein: just the hall rimmed by red.

He had a strangely detached feeling. One he dimly recalled from his hazy past. It was like as if he were once more in an unfeeling body of steel.

Despite the fog holding him captive, Alphonse remembered. The armor bore his seal. He was seeing the world though its eyes.

Relaxing his body, Alphonse let his mind focus on the silent form standing in the hall across from the kitchen. His head was becoming rapidly clearer as his soul slipped further from his body.

Realization and fear filled him as Alphonse grasped he distantly felt the rise and fall of his chest. It vanished rapidly and was replaced by the stiff, unfeeling form of the armor near his painting.

The hall flashed into clear focus. It was quiet: the kitchen was locked. The only person he saw was Hans. He stood sentry at Alphonse's and Edward's bedroom door.

There was a faint racket. Slowly, Alphonse turned the helmet head toward Noa's room at the end of the hall. A woman exited, holding dirty linens. Hans gave her a nod. "Herr Elric will be living with the Roma now." He told her with a smile. "Is the room fit for the boy?"

The woman gave a weak smile. "It is clean, but Rudolph has ordered me not to move him in until later. The boy is sick."

"Humpf." Hans face twitched with disgust. Something Alphonse saw earlier that day. The man was angry with him, and Alphonse hadn't any clue to why. "The boy was busy last night, causing mischief," Hans began. "If you ask me both of them are more trouble than they are worth."

The woman walked by, her head shaking. "Alphonse seems sweet enough." She said. "I hope Professor Elric recovers soon. I hear he is ill as well, and that is why he is marrying Frau Noa."

Hans didn't respond. He watched her hips as they swayed down the hall. She was approaching the kitchen.

In his metal body, Alphonse stood deathly still, a part of him afraid she'd hear him breathing. A silly thought, since he didn't breathe at all in the armor. The woman paused in front of him, removed his head and opened the secret passage. She replaced his head, than looked over her shoulder. "I'll return in two and a half hours to finish the rooms. Enjoy your afternoon."

The door slipped shut behind her.

He had two and a half hours with only Hans on duty.

He could work with that. With an effort, Alphonse Elric redirected his thoughts to his body, and the rise and fall of his chest.

Once more the world clouded over with the twisted, distorted sensations of an opium-laden mind.

He had two hours to clear his head and to prepare for his planned escape.

Struggling to fight the impending dream, Alphonse Elric tried to concentrate on tunes. The low Creole tunes of bayou jazz rolled out in his imagination, bouncing carelessly among the blaze of black nothing threatening to drag his mind into oblivion. Yes, he had to focus, focus on what he needed to do. The music helped to soothe him, and he could hear its sweet horns and swaying beat. Yes, the instruments were clear: a piano, a saxophone, cornets, drums, a clarinet, a trombone, a base, and yes, the banjo. Each played in a delicate symphony of acoustic harmony. Its notes drew out his thoughts, allowing him to meditate.

Alphonse breathed, fighting the swirl of disjointed dreaming, recalling the warm tones of the trombone in contrast to the high pitched twang of Louis Armstrong's cornet.

Yes, his brain cleared now. He knew he had developed enough of a resistance to the drug that it was easier to function under its effects. Furrowing his brow, the boy opened his eyes.

A faint smile twitched his face. He had a plan. But first, he had to keep Hans busy enough not to notice what he was doing.

Clumsily, Alphonse climbed out of bed and stumbled across the room. Earlier, Hans had called him loose and insisted on him being dressed. He was wearing a pair of slacks, suspenders and a deep green long-sleeved shirt.

Meekly, he opened the door, peeking out, large eyes filling with apprehension. "Hans." He said in a soft childlike voice. "Can you get me a glass of water from the kitchen? I want ice too, and a snack. A sandwich with goose, and cheese, and a dash of pepper, with fresh cucumbers and…"

"I'm not your personal maid." Hans snapped, glaring at him, annoyed. "Can't you wait until the cook returns?"

Al widened his eyes and grabbed his stomach. "I'm just hungry and I feel so weak. If I could eat, maybe I'd feel a little stronger." He was sure his words were stilted. Alphonse was never a good liar. All he could go on was that he was a little hungry, and a goose cucumber sandwich would taste very good. "I'd get it myself, but I don't think I have the strength."

Hans rolled his eyes. "Yeah, right. Get back to bed, I'll get your snack." Feigning cheerfulness, Alphonse closed the door and counted to thirty. After a moment, he cracked it open to see Hans walking to the kitchen.

Good. The boy removed his arm from its sling and pressed his hands together, concentrating. Hans opened the kitchen door, and vanished inside, closing the door behind him.

Stone, wood and iron, the composition of the castle walls and the kitchen door were simple chemical equations. In his minds eye, Al directed his brain to the door knob and lock. Mentally he scrolled though the atomic data, and how he could manipulate it. Alphonse placed his hands on the wall, sending a charge of Alchemical energy though the stone walls to the door. With his mind, he twisted the matter of the lock, distorting the metal latch so that it caught in the lock when turned.

Hans wouldn't be able to open it when he tried to leave, leaving him effectively trapped in the kitchen long enough for Alphonse to do what he needed.

The task was effortless, and the boy felt a wash of triumph. He had forgotten how fun using Alchemy was. With a wry smile, Alphonse dashed across the hall to the library. All he needed now was one suit of armor.

And the library had many, even ones not in immediate sight, that could go easily unnoticed if necessary.

In no time, he found the one he wanted behind the bookshelves, guarding some of the antiquities cases. It was a tall medieval plate armor, with a sloping visor that looked like a beak.

Despite the cast, Alphonse planted his hands on his hips and studied the form. He wasn't sure how much power he had as a philosopher's stone; he suspected a great deal, but wanted to conserve it until it was time to escape and eventually heal Edward. The armor itself would be easy to animate and when it was time, eventually place his soul in.

It wasn't exactly what he imagined, but it would do. He needed an appropriate vessel to sneak about the castle. Even with Jack's help, he needed to know how secure the place was, know its layout, and find out where in Germany they were. This way, if Jack proved to be trouble, he could rescue them on his own.

Clapping his hands together, he touched the armor. Once more, he mentally analyzed the components he was manipulating, and twisted their atomic structure. The armor bore his seal already, but childish nostalgia drove him. He wanted a familiar form to move around and fight in.

Bright bolts of red energy bathed the form, the metal beneath his fingertips glowed in a red hue as it rippled, expanded, and contorted into a familiar barrel chested form. Its helm was squat with a jagged maw. It had a spike on the brow, and long tail of bleached horse hair dangled from the back of the head, giving it an exact likeness of what he had once remembered as his past life. It was an armored giant with an overwhelmingly encompassing appearance that towered over him by at least two and a half feet. He studied it, feeling suddenly frightened by the massive form. It was menacing, yet comforting at the same time, and hard for him to believe that once he lived within a similar leather and steel bound interior. Lifting a hand, he touched the cold unfeeling gauntlet aware that the fingers were so gigantic they'd swallow up his own.

"Hello, old friend." He smiled. "I need you for just a little while. I hope you don't mind."

The boy stepped back, carefully focusing his soul on the armor in front of him. Effortlessly he willed it to move. The armor clanked and eased itself from the stand it was mounted on. It's movements made a low metallic sound that was soft, like leather and steel rubbing against each other.

Alphonse lifted his hands, red energy crackling fire over his fingers. He could feel the power coursing though his veins, charging his cells with a wash of energy. Concentrating, he guided the armor past the bookshelves and across the gallery, to the main library doors.

It paused at his command and stood patiently. Joining it, Al felt a rush of excitement. He had to admit, sneaking about, getting away with mischief was fun. Especially when he had spent so much time lying around in bed, frightened of what abuse he had to endure next.

He cracked the door open, and peeked down the hall. It was quiet, Hans was likely still in the kitchen, making sandwiches. It wouldn't be long before he tried to open the door, and discovered it was jammed.

Narrowing his brow, Al returned his attention to the armor. He felt that strange detachment fill him as he once more took control over the behemoth's limbs.

He watched it walk down the hall, heavy feet stepping on the carpeted stone floor. If he concentrated he could almost see though its eyes and hear the soft steps of its metallic sabatons. There was a faint squeak from its joints, and Alphonse felt his stomach tighten. If Hans heard, it would be over with fast. The boy held his breath, as the suit strolled past the kitchen and turned to face the painting across from it.

The kitchen door rattled and Han's voice cursed.

Alphonse commanded the armor to activate the secret switch and open the door.

Thankfully, Hans was too busy swearing to hear the movement. There was a soft thudding against the kitchen door that told Alphonse he was now using his shoulder to force the lock. Taking advantage of the moment, the lad commanded the armor to vanish behind the secret door and close the passage behind it. Then abandoned his control over the suit and sprinted into the bedroom and lay in his bed.

After what felt like endless minutes, Hans stalked into his room, sharp gaze focusing on the boy. "Damn lock stuck." Hans said sharply. He studied Alphonse. "I made you damn sandwich."

Al carefully sat up in bed, eyeing the man as he crossed to his side and placed a plate and a glass on the bed stand. "The cook told me it jams all the time." Alphonse informed. Lying was becoming far easier now. It helped that Hans always talked down to him. "And Herr Harkness has complained about it too."

Hans winced at Jack's name and shrugged. "I bet he does. Now, don't bug me." Turning the man walked to the door. "If you want anything, get it yourself."

Irritable, the man slammed the door behind him. Exhaling, Alphonse slumped back in bed. He was lucky that time. Hans was rather self-absorbed. If he were like Jack, Alphonse would have never gotten away with what he had just done. A broad smile crossed his face, and the boy looked over to Einstein, who looked hungrily at his sandwich. "So far, so good," he said snapping his fingers cheerfully to the kitten. He picked a piece of the sandwich and tossed it to the animal. He was tired and weak, but not warn enough to abandon his mission. Besides, he was too excited not to continue.

"We'll eat lunch, then I have work to do, warn me if Hans decides to visit, ok Einstein?"

Chomping on some goose, the kitten made a purring sound and cocked its head. It was as if the animal understood, and Alphonse's instincts told him he could trust it. The bond between them was very strong.

Alphonse of course would use this to his advantage. He patted Einstein and tasted his lunch. The sandwich was good, and Hans seasoned the goose just right. He loved the bite of pepper in contrast to the salty cheese. Chewing thoughtfully, the teenager fidgeted in place and thought of his plan. He needed to keep his strength up. He still wasn't feeling well, even if his head was clearing. Fighting the gate had drained him, and only time would help him recover. Yet, he had no choice. Kaiser and his staff were distracted with the last minute wedding. With the armor, he would explore the castle and put his blood seal on the other suits of armor he came across that day

So he had to act now, come hell or high water. If he got his way, they were escaping in two nights.

&

How many times had he walked this hall with only the musty smells and hollow sounds to guide him? So many he had lost track, but enough to give him a basic idea of where to go. Alphonse crept along the dark, seemingly never-ending passage, listening for familiar sounds and trusting his direction sense when it came to direction choices.

He couldn't smell, or feel the cool touch of drafts he was used to. In the past such sensations helped him to discern direction. Sadly, being bound to the armor only allowed him two senses, hearing and sight.

So as not to give himself confusion or give himself away, he didn't make himself a light; rather he kept a large gauntlet on the wall, feeling for changes in depth and sound. It was a ploy he used in the past. To guide him, Alphonse exercised his mathematical skills as well as his understanding of how certain textures sounded on his steel and leather palm.

Although the corridor was dark for the most part, he occasionally came to spaces that were dimly lit by a window far above his head. It cast enough shadows on the stone wall for him to hide if necessary, and gave enough light for him to see when the hall turned or even or when it broke off into more than one passage.

By direction sense alone, Al knew how to get to the garden, which eliminated that route altogether. Following his gut, or what he could conceive as his gut, Alphonse crept down the hall, listening very carefully for voices and searching for signs of false walls. His exploration took him down a set of spiral stairs and down a narrow passage, then it split. He chose the right, rather than the left. If his logic was right, the right went deeper into the castle, where the left would keep him in the tower he, Edward and Noa lived in.

For an undetermined amount of time he wandered a maze of corridors. Fortunately, he recognized some of the turns from the day Kaiser had his arm broken, but other than that, everything looked alike; stone walls, stone floor and rows of lamps. His only hope was he saw few cobwebs and little dust, which meant the passage was well traveled. Still, he'd have to return to the library soon, and he felt a pang of despair.

The hallway stretched out as if it were following a long straight wall, unlike the zigzag passages that seemed to skirt around individual rooms. If he listened, he heard muffled voices passing by. The boy paused, gauntlet fingers trailing down the bumpy stone. The sound was different; softer, no longer rough, and bumped his fingers. The texture changed. It sounded more like stucco than stone, and he easily scraped though it. He tapped it lightly. The sound was hollow, like plywood.

A false panel; his hope returned and Alphonse explored the wall with his eyes. It also looked newer, as if it had been replaced relatively recently.

Walking over, he noted a tiny sliding door. Carefully he moved it, revealing two eye slots. A flicker of excitement washed over him. When he stared though the slots, he saw a hallway lit by glowing lamps. The walls and ceiling were ornate, with gilded columns and high gothic vaulting. Arched stained glass windows adorned the hall, casting the sun's warm rays into a rainbow of pale light across the floor. Between each window was a wall with a painting or a weapon (swords or maces for the most part, but occasionally, Alphonse noticed a shield with the Kaiser family crest).

He couldn't see where the hall went, in either direction, but he did hear the faint murmur of voices.

If he had breath, he would have held it. Backing away from the wall, Alphonse searched the passage. There had to be an opening somewhere. It was a matter of finding it.

Every ten feet gas lamps hung on metal hooks. Each one sat stationary on what looked like a large stone. After further examination Alphonse determined each brick was indeed hard, and scraped against his gauntlet with the same sound as the bricks further down the tunnel. They were set in dark mortar, expertly laid probably four hundred years ago, and maintained to the present date. Only one brick, with the only lampless hook, appeared to have loose mortar around it, and stucco wall beside it. It was longer than the others and oddly shaped. Alphonse examined it, metal fingers touching the hook. Thoughtful, he tested how secure it was. It wobbled.

His first impulse was to open the secret door but he chose to check the hall instead. It was clear, and from what he could tell, the false wall opened up, not in the main hall, but in an alcove. Unfortunately the slots didn't give him a full view of the hall, and he was forced to assure himself no one was in the immediate vicinity.

It was risky, but Edward needed him. Alphonse yanked down the switch, and watched the wall roll around and stop. A suit of armor stood stiffly in front of him. Fortune was still with him. He depressed the lever twice, sending the armor around into place, then back into the passageway. This time, letting the wall revolve him into the hallway.

"I know you are angry about this, dear, but we are here for Edward." A woman's voice said, dangerously close.

Alphonse cursed and listened as he became aware of footfalls closing in. A couple passed by, a tall man, and a smaller, light brown haired woman, he recognized from Munich. Motionless, he watched as the man with Hughes' face and Edward's former landlady passed by. He felt nostalgia wash over him, happy to see Hughes alive, and even happier to see him with the woman who looked just like Gracia, Hughes' widow. If only they were. It was difficult for him not to signal the couple, or jump out and beg them for help. Alphonse knew deep inside, even if they wore their faces, Alter Hughes and Alter Gracia were not his friends in Amestris. He tightened his fists, and watched sadly as they walked by.

"I'm worried, not angry." Alter Hughes snapped sharply. His voice was filled with concern. He was dressed in a brown cotton suit with a red bow tie. They were not wealthy, it was probably his best clothing, even if it appeared a little worn when Alphonse looked closely. "I know in the past, I disapproved of Noa, but she proved herself. I want them to be happy…"

"It's Gustave, isn't it?" Gracia toyed with the silver chain of her small handbag. Like Alter Hughes she was dressed in her best clothing, which consisted of a longer than knee length pleated blue skirt and white blouse. "Was he with the Thule society, is that how you know him."

Hughes looked thoughtful. He paused before Alphonse and checked his watch. "We have five minutes before the ceremony." He shook his head. He dabbed the back of his head, frustration wrinkling his brow. "We were friends long enough for me to recognize what a classist bastard he was. I just wished Edward had discussed it with me before he decided to work for the man. I'm sure he would have had reservations if he knew the sort he was."

Gracia sighed, arm wrapping about his. Was that an engagement ring on her finger? Over the last few months, they must have broken the ice between them. "I am happy you broke from them, they frightened me. But I'm sure Edward can take care of himself." She turned him around, directing their walk back toward where they came.

Their footfalls softly echoed in the marble hall. "I don't know. The boy looks ill…" The German policeman's voice trailed behind him. "I just hope he will listen to reason at the reception."

Their words faded as they vanished from sight. Alphonse relaxed, feeling a pang of guilt. His heart wanted to trust them, but he couldn't take the chance, not here. There was far too much to explain. Shifting carefully, he quietly crept to the edge of the alcove. The hall yawned out in two directions. To the left he saw it opened up to a main stairwell and a large foyer. To the right, it appeared to go to a set of large mahogany double doors. His instinct told him Hughes' and Gracia's Alters were walking toward the chapel and in the other direction was the Kaiser's office. He recalled walking up a set of stairs as well as a draft similar to what one would get to an entrance or foyer.

If he was correct, Alphonse Elric knew the way out.

No one was in the hall, and so far, the guards on duty were likely in the chapel and near the entrance. Kaiser was doing his best not to make the place look like a prison.

The boy prayed his luck would remain. Alphonse stepped away, and studied the hall, mentally noting each alcove and the armor standing within. The hall had twelve suits of medieval plate armor, four feet apart. Between each of them was a three-foot wall, with portrait of a different person.

He had very little time now. Alphonse focused his mind, and concentrated. He'd have to place his blood seal on each armor, but he wanted to do them all at the same time. It was a difficult task, but the power inside of him and seeing the truth gave him the insight and strength to do it.

He quietly clapped his hands together, forming Oroborous, than shaped the image of rust and iron twisting into the atomic elements necessary for blood. Forming the seal was effortless.

In a faint flash of red a seal appeared on each suit's back and Alphonse felt a connection form with the armor. It was time to go back. He'd return later that night, using one of the armors in the hall to finish his work.

Satisfied he slipped back to the alcove, and depressed the lever. A moment later he was swiveling around back into the dark passageway he had come from.

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