Before October
Happy Halloween everyone! I can't believe October has come and gone - it will be winter before we know it! Hot chocolates and snowball fights for all!
Thank you Ace for your fabulous beta work as always :D
For Wandering Snow - thank you! We're going to see a lot more of Roy's parents in this story, and just as a heads up, Roy wasn't orphaned when he was younger in this story ^^
For hannanybunny - I'm glad you're enjoying! There is lots more action with the Major General for the next couple of chapters (he even creeps me out though XD) to look forward to ;) And confusion is my middle name - but I promise, eventually everything will make sense!
Chapter 8: Wisdom's Perspective
Winter 1904 - Central City
Hohenheim swirled the contents of his coffee mug before finally draining the now cold cup. He pushed it away from him and waved a hand to beckon someone to fill its contents back to the brim. He needed it – the news of the explosion catalyzed by the Ishvalans in East City topped the headlines of the newspapers littered across his table. Although these were local, undistinguished newspapers with those headlines on them, as if Central Times and the other popular papers had not heard threads on the news, so clearly Amestris was beginning to forget already. Interesting.
A waitress hurried over to fill his mug for the third time and he ushered her away to place it on his tab. Despite it being during the middle of the day, the rush of the lunch hour was fading as the afternoon hours grudged by to the employees of the coffee shop, and he was the only customer. The usually bustling streets of Central City had subdued while workers were locked away in their offices, sloth ruling their actions as Monday dragged its way by. For Hohenheim however, it was the start of a lead he had been searching for.
Across the table, he reached for the World of the East newspaper, and dashing the front headlines described the shenanigans of rogue sheep escaping from a farmer's market. Hohenheim turned through the first several pages with little success for what he was looking for. All of the stories rarely deviated from the repetitive tales of farmers. To the rest of Amestris, the East Area was comprised of country folk, pitchforks and farm animals. However, in the top left hand corner on the "Events" page, there was a picture which even took him by surprise.
Standing looking out what appeared to be a sheet of glass; bystanders were watching the remnants of the explosion. This is what Hohenheim was searching for. He hoped to find the bastard, the Homunculus, the perpetrator who had destroyed the tranquil East's chaos. And the whole of Amestris for that matter. But the photograph held no evidence to his involvement. Hohenheim believed that he was the one behind the explosion in East City, and that the Ishvalans had been the puppets to that bastard's plans.
However, Hohenheim saw no clues that might have hinted at their involvement; the Ishvalans may have acted independently after all. Hohenheim continued to scan the photograph nevertheless; he could not falter and miss even a minute detail.
His eyes narrowed before confirming his idle thoughts. Even though his back was all that the camera captured, the antennae and short height compared to Alphonse were the identifiable features of Edward. Despite his appalling performance as a parent in comparison to Trisha, he would still recognize his sons anywhere.
He smiled fondly at his offspring, even though the photograph trapped their golden features in cruel shades of grey. It had been a year, and he missed watching his sons play with Trisha terribly, and he yearned for her comforting warmth, her lilac dress and light fragrance of lavender enveloping her body, complete with rich chestnut hair. She was springtime, a time for growth and renewal, and the very thought of her awakened a resolve within Hohenheim. Soon…he would return to his beloved.
Trisha would have to wait a while longer. She would, he knew. But he couldn't keep her waiting for a lifetime; he had many, but she had one.
Another dead end. He drained his coffee, bringing the next newspaper to his attention. All of the stories were scattered, and revealed no absolute truth about the explosion. Why had the Ishvalans acted in East City? Was the bastard involved? So many questions.
However, of one thing he was certain. The shadows were not content.
March 1904 – East City
He had ten minutes left. Roy was sitting in his room, which was a pile of chaos of clothes and artefacts scattered across his bed. But his suitcase was still empty. Riza would be hounding him to hurry up - they were running late already. Roy's train was due to depart in an hour with or without him. Seeing the state that his packing was in, he thought that the latter was the most likely possibility.
Why did the East City Train Service have to pride themselves with "punctuality and precision"? He couldn't function with deadlines as it was, and with caffeine he was helpless. Just to mock him, the train taking him to the academy's front gates would be coming early as well.
Well, he had to start somewhere. Roy felt like he was starting a difficult and strenuous project that had to be completed in a timeframe - ten minutes. But the clothes piled up around him as if his bedroom had its own personalised mountain range like in Briggs, swamping his confidence. Roy shuddered and scolded himself for falling into the spiral of procrastination which had delayed his packing in the first place.
The very sinful object which had distracted Roy was sitting on his bedside table. It was a postcard with the military academy he was enrolled for pictured on the front like an advertisement brochure. On the other side was a letter written in the elongated style of Major General Nassor, his writing resembling spirals similar to his hypnotic gaze. The contents of the letter drawled on, but the last part had captured Roy's attention ever since he had received the letter last week.
I'm pleased to let you know that I will be continuing tutoring at the academy for another year - and I shall be your personal tutor. While you are being trained under me, your training can be accelerated. I am sure your parents would be satisfied with this arrangement too. I hope you will be prepared for the challenge.
Kind regards and I'll see you at the start of the new term,
Major General N. Nassor
Roy combed his fingers through his hair grinding his teeth as the same words lingered in his mind. I am sure your parents would be satisfied with this arrangement too. No matter how he tried to escape from their watch, destiny was chasing him down. They cropped up in his life and dreams like an overcast sky inevitably brought rain.
Similar to the ominous message which was imprinted in his dreams before October, he had had a dream before. One in which his parents had died, and he had been fostered by his aunt, Madame Christmas. That was a good dream…Roy shook his head; it was only a dream. In this reality, his parents were prestigiously alive.
"I'm leaving in five minutes!" the impatient Riza called from downstairs. He could hear her pacing along the hallway. She shouldn't be nervous – after all, it was him who was moving away from their home in East City.
Roy grunted a response which he assumed Riza heard because he received no response. That or she was thoroughly annoyed with him. He chuckled silently to himself, pushing those dreams and dilemmas to the side of his thoughts. Proceeding to open the suitcase to the brim, he emptied his entire wardrobe's contents into it, sitting on the case as he hoisted the case closed, like shutting the lid on a troublesome dream.
He had a rucksack to pack his more personal belongings, and this was mainly stuffed with alchemy books and instruments he regularly used. Roy took more care with his possessions, which included the hilarious photographs that Riza's camera had produced, even though he couldn't remember ever consenting to the frozen images of him nearly setting his hair alight and being near tears when he had dropped a thick volume on his little toe. Riza did it to obviously remind Roy of what a child he was.
Shrugging on his jacket, he fondly gazed around his barren room, its contents now locked away in his suitcase. The only object left was resting on the bedside table. He heaved the contents which weighed more than the steam train he was boarding. Just as he was about to close the door, he retraced his steps and placed the letter into his pocket.
No time for nostalgia. He virtually flew down the stairs as he winced to Riza fixing him with a stare that promised death. Roy knew that they were leaving now.
"You're losing the right to call yourself an alchemist, Roy," Berthold Hawkeye muttered from his place by the study door down the dark hallway infested with books. It was like he was a character of old lifted out from their dusty pages; he spoke wisdom. His tone was as indifferent as ever, but his eyes glittered in the gloom, speaking an unspoken warning.
"I know, Master. I'm grateful for all that you have taught me," Roy bowed his head, knowing he had lost the alchemist's favour, and was eager to make a disappearance from the tension crackling in the air like thunder. He gripped the handle to his suitcase tightly; Riza watched on silently, missing nothing.
Roy was throwing away his freedom, the one sanction an alchemist lived by.
"Search for the truth, Roy. And when you have your answer, I'll share some of my secrets with you," Berthold mused, scratching his chin, "Hohenheim – don't forget his name."
"What do you mean by that, Master? Master?" Roy stuttered as Hawkeye closed the study door behind him. Roy was left standing in the cobweb-riddled hallway with more questions than answers as though Berthold himself was an enigma.
"We have to go, Roy," Riza said, her voice deep and serious before her eyes suddenly brightened and she opened the front door. "You won't be able to stay away without saying goodbye to Dapple."
And Riza was telling the truth. Roy was going to miss this place, even the equestrian menace that ruled the roost.
Goodbye. I came and now I'm going. How time flies by when you have fun.
Steam. It billowed around Roy thicker than a fog that had lingered for days. He was panting and running for his dear life to board the train which was slipping its way slowly out of the station. He was like trying to capture a light, which seemed a simple concept which was actually impossible. But he had to catch this train. It was the last one leaving East City before the new term at the academy began. He had to board the future.
Riza's feet sounded beside him, but he couldn't see her. She was breathing heavily through her mouth too. Good. She could suffer from their lack of fitness together. Running through this smoke blocked out the budding trees dotting the park next to the station, where the Ishvalan's explosion had taken place and the earth was healing from this turmoil in winter. The flowers had yet to come, but the leaves were rolling loose like laundry blowing on their branches – the world was on the threshold between seasons.
But Roy didn't notice time passing around him. His sole focus was reaching the train before it left the platform fully. He coughed and wiped his eyes, still sprinting at full speed, as he saw the smoke begin to thin around him. The front of the train was journeying into the horizon. For a second, Roy's heart sank and his pace slowed enough for Riza to overtake him.
She stopped abruptly, sweat falling down her face like tears as she shouted at him, "Hurry up, you idiot! The last few carriages haven't pulled away yet!"
Roy rolled his eyes and lifted a mock salute to her as he strained his leg muscles to defy human speed. He leaned forward, suitcase in one hand and without thinking; he grabbed for Riza and dragged her forward with him towards the train. She gasped in surprise but held on firmly. They were close. Just a few steps further…
Roy felt a familiar force squeeze his hand and then let go. He braced his body as the train whistled by, two carriages remaining in line with the platform. One…He jumped, stretching his body forwards, thinking every millisecond that he was going to miss. And fall.
But he had those people to save. His feet scrabbled on the last carriage as if they were surprised by their owner's unexpected ability. Roy clung onto the railing and watched as East City Train Station vanished like the train's steam into the cool morning air.
She was there. Riza stood on the platform, her hands tucked behind her back, her loose hair stirring in the slight spring breeze. The train turned a corner, and she was out of his sight. Until next time.
"Yo!" a voice called to him from above. Roy blanched not only from motion sickness, but of Maes Hughes leaning over him, the size of a giant to Roy huffing on the floor. If he said he was feeling dizzy it would be the greatest lie ever told; he felt inebriated (even though he had never reached that state…yet).
"Why am I not surprised to see you here?" Roy muttered and he shook his head in an attempt to overcome the giddying vertigo threatening to swallow him up. Maes might have lifted a hand down to him to help him back on feet, and he might have taken that hand.
He wasn't sure what he did next. His thoughts lingered with the young woman standing on the platform, and the home he was leaving behind on the hill.