I like this chapter. I'm not sure why, I just do.
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Chapter Three: The Elric Family
The Elric mansion was a lovely red brick building, with large, arched windows and spacious, airy rooms. It was set in once beautifully-tended grounds, with what was once a rose garden at the front of the house, and a now wild and murky ornamental pond, a vegetable garden run rampant to the back of the house and an overgrown and tangled orchard to one side. The mansion had four floors, and it had been divided into three parts: the central part of the house for guests, the south wing for the Elric family themselves, and the north wing for the few servants who had worked there- however, since the murders, it was as though a permanent bloodstain sullied the house. Nobody had even bothered to sell off their possessions; it remained locked and untouched, a huge, silent memorial to those who had lived- and died- there. From the outside, it was melancholically beautiful: the gardens alive with wildflowers, growing free across the lawns, trees already putting down root, and in the midst of it all, an empty house, honeysuckle creeping over the brickwork and brushing at the arched windows.
The insides of the mansion fared badly, too; the extensive library went to waste, the upholstery greyed and faded and gradually, everything was covered by a layer of dust. Animals strayed in to make their homes in the protected warmth of the mansion, and the Elrics' home, once bright and cheerful and full of light, was empty and dull, muted and faded without Trisha's cheerful countenance or the Professor's gentle, authoritative presence reigning over it, lifeless without the bustle of servants in the north wing.
Roy had gotten the key from Trisha's mother, who had pressed it into his hands with a strength that belied her frail appearance, and then looked him dead in the eye, saying, "Find out who did this to my little girl." Roy had promised that he would and now here he was, unlocking the doors. They creaked only a little, despite their many years of abandonment, and behind them stood the tarnished splendour of the Elric mansion.
There was a wide, curved staircase, a thick, soft carpet, large mirrors, vases that must once have held flowers... in his mind's eye, Roy could see it as it must have been years before- bright and full of colour. To his left there hung a portrait of the late professor, austere and grave, but with the hint of an amused smile on the painted face. On the right, opposite the professor's painting, was a portrait of his wife: a lovely, cheerful woman with long brown hair and a kind smile.
Riza, Maes, Vato, Breda, Jean and Kain followed him into the house, staring up at the high ceiling and taking in the mixture of old and new. Sure, the house itself was old, but the Elrics themselves had lived only seven years ago- there were photographs here and there, a telephone on a low table near the door, and the stables had been converted into a garage: all of these things brought the grand old house a little closer to the modern era. Jean let out a low whistle.
"They weren't badly off, were they?" he asked. It was true: even unshakable, stoic Riza looked a little surprised by the luxury the Elrics had lived in.
The group moved into the parlour, and then the dining room, taking in the portraits and the expensive furniture, the beautiful ornaments and ornate clocks... but so far, there was nothing to indicate that two small boys had ever lived here. Had the Elric brothers been a lie after all?
Moving on, they wandered through the north wing, the servant's quarters- but despite that, it wouldn't have been a bad place to live. It was just as bright as the central part of the house, and just as beautifully, albeit more modestly, furnished. The furniture was obviously not as expensive as those the Elrics and their guests would've used, but it was apparent that servants here could've expected to live nearly as well as the Elrics themselves had done, and certainly quite a bit better than many of the less well-off residents of Rizembul. After a thorough look around the servant's quarters they finally moved onto the most interesting part of the house: where the Elrics themselves had spent most of their time.
Roy passed the master bedroom, the bathroom, the study- he could look at those later. What was interesting were the two small rooms at the end of the corridor, each one containing a single bed, a wardrobe and a desk, a few miscellaneous toys and a shelf of books.
The rooms were tidy, something Roy found interesting: every other room had been left as it was at the moment the Elrics died; chairs left out and a few plates and some cutlery still on the table, pots and pans still lying around the kitchen, cupboard doors ajar, books open on the tables and shelves, moth-eaten sheets and cushions still strewn haphazardly where they had been left. Why, then, were these rooms perfectly neat?
He pulled open the desk drawer to see if a clue would be found there, and sure enough, he was confronted by a school book. In faint, faded ink on the front cover was written Alphonse Elric, History, age nine.
"Well, what do you know?" Roy thought aloud, putting the book back into the drawer and closing it. He left the room and crossed the corridor to another, similar room, with another desk: he hunted through the drawers until he located a second schoolbook. This one read Edward Elric, French, age ten.
"Edward and Alphonse Elric." he muttered to himself. "Huh."
From one of the other rooms, there was a cry of, "Roy!"
He put the book back in the desk and shut the drawers, shutting the door behind him as he followed the voice out of Edward Elric's room.
It was a library.
Well... 'Library' was a rather mild way to describe this room. 'Library' did not do it justice: this was no library, it was a haven of books. Roy had known they had a library, and he had been expecting it to be a rather good one, given Hoenheim Elric's profession and the extravagance of the rest of the house, but... wow. That was the only word he could summon forth to describe this lost world of knowledge.
Shelves lined every wall and books lined every shelf. Every available surface was covered with heavy tomes, and then some. It was a veritable growth of books, as if they somehow multiplied when nobody was looking. Deep, comfortable armchairs were scattered at random through the room, and there was a large fireplace opposite the door to keep the room warm and cosy on cold winter nights. It was dusty, yes, and as the electricity bill had been unpaid for the past seven years the lighting was dim, filtered through dirty windows, but Roy didn't care- he was already browsing the shelves.
There was very little in the way of fiction, but vast amounts of non-fiction; most of which involved science. What fiction there was mostly romance, he noticed. Perhaps Trisha had liked it? Or maybe the Professor himself had harboured a secret love for the saccharine stories? There was also a large section dedicated to the legendary art of alchemy, which Roy thought slightly odd at first, but then he remembered that the Professor had firmly believed that there was some truth in the old myths, and had been trying to find out why alchemy had been lost to them.
"This," he said when he found Maes beside a shelf stacked with history books, "is amazing. I've never seen a library like this. It's just.. amazing."
Maes Hughes laughed. In their line of work, they saw plenty of libraries, but he had never seen one render Roy speechless before- but then again, it was rather fantastic.
"Yeah, it's an amazing library chief," said Jean, coming up behind them, "but that's not why I called you in here. Look at this."
"What is it?"
"Round here," said Jean, leading him past another aisle of books, "Look."
It was perhaps the only wall in the room without floor-to-ceiling books Instead, there was a huge portrait. It showed a tall, blonde man and a sweet looking woman, the Professor and his wife-
-and stood before them, looking distinctly uncomfortable in their stiff, formal suits, two young boys.
"The Elric brothers," Roy murmured.
Maes came up behind him and slapped him heartily on the shoulder. "There you go, Roy," he said, smiling, "We already know more about them than everybody else in this town put together. Not bad going, huh?"
"Yes, but we still don't know enough... just their names, and how old they were when they died." he sighed.
"Somebody's pessimistic," said Maes. "But it's strange, don't you think? They must've cared for their sons. I had a look in their rooms earlier- they had nice clothes, toys, books... and then there's this portrait, too. They look cheerful, healthy, bright- the kind of kids any parents would want to show off. So why didn't they? Why on earth did they keep them hidden away from everyone?"
"I don't know, Maes," said Roy, looking up at the portrait. Edward and Alphonse Elric looked back at him; the one he assumed to be Edward scowling, two golden eyes narrowed in obvious displeasure, while Alphonse smiled cheerfully. "I really don't know."