Chapter One
January 1901
When a sixteen-year-old Roy Mustang stepped off the train from Central, he was immediately struck by the coldness of the tiny town he would call home for the next twenty-four months.
Having never left the city before, the freezing wind of the north-east practically stung the young man's skin as he trekked through the isolated town, warily taking note of his surroundings while trying not to violently shiver through the unforgiving January weather.
Roy's first impression of Eissler was that it wasn't the size of the place that it feel so small, so much as the distinct lack of activity that would make a place like Resembool seem as exciting as Central itself.
Eissler seemed to house little more than a train station, post office, and some haphazardly assembled markets in the town centre.
The few locals Roy encountered refused to meet his eye but would stare at him suspiciously when they thought he wasn't watching. Nobody attempted to speak to him, or even each other. It was eerily silent, and even the cobblestoned streets seemed unnecessarily rocky and harsh, mirroring the faraway mountains that served as the backdrop of the village. Everything about Eissler seemed designed to keep outsiders out, if it weren't for a small railway connecting it to the neighbouring town of Brionn which itself only connected to the Eastern city of Liore, making it a rather undesirable trip from Roy's home in Central.
By the time Roy reached Master Hawkeye's home on the outskirts of town, darkness had fallen despite the early hour, and Roy was cold, tired, and wet from the sludge of snow he had been forced to trek through.
Roy glanced at the address he had scribbled on the back of a letter from Master Hawkeye, not wanting to mistake the home for the seemingly abandoned building that stood in front of him.
The manor before him was large, but thoroughly unwelcoming with an overgrown garden full of weeds and shrubs, both disguising the faded path leading to the front door. Strings of ivy had been left unchecked, climbing up the side of the stony building and covering several windows, shrouding the house in darkness and mystery.
Roy suspected that the place must have been grand and important once, but had since fallen into disrepair with missing roof tiles and faded paint attempting to hide the numerous cracks in the foundation of the walls.
Despite the abandoned feeling, Roy could spot a single flickering light in one of the second-floor windows, so faint that he suspected it was a candle, but nevertheless proved the house was inhabitable, if only barely.
Roy gulped as the knocked on the large oak door, feeling rather small and wondering what exactly he had gotten himself into.
He had little time to contemplate, as he was quickly greeted at the door, not by a middle-aged alchemist, but by a young girl.
She was about a foot shorter than Roy, with a small wiry frame and innocent childlike face – Roy estimated she had to be somewhere between ten and thirteen. Her eyes were a pretty caramel colour, wide and inquisitive as she greeted Roy.
"Good afternoon, Miss," Roy said with a charming smile, "I'm looking for Berthold Hawkeye – I'm his new apprentice," he added boastfully.
The small blonde girl didn't seem impressed, eying Roy up with an unreadable expression.
"You're Roy Mustang?" she asked in a strangely wary voice he wouldn't have expected from a child.
"That's me" he confirmed with what he hoped was an assuring grin.
Half expecting to be turned away, Roy was relieved when the young girl cracked open the door enough for him to squeeze through.
What once would have been the foyer to a grand estate was practically barren, with no rug or carpet covering the dark hardwood floors, nor any furniture or paintings to decorate the space. The now faded and peeling floral wallpaper seemed to be the only remnants of any individuality or homeliness the estate must once have possessed.
"Father is in his study, but I will let him know you have arrived, Mr Mustang."
Father?
From what Roy had been told about Berthold Hawkeye, he had gathered that the man was a bit of a recluse with an almost obsessive passion for alchemy. It had never crossed his mind that such an eccentric figure would have a child.
"Oh!" he exclaimed as understanding washed over him, earning a confused look from the alchemist's daughter. "I'm sorry," he said rather sheepishly, "I just didn't know Master Hawkeye had a daughter. He didn't mention you in our letters."
"Oh." Roy inwardly cringed as he noticed the unmistakable flash of sadness across the young girls face. "Well… I'm Riza."
"It's a pleasure to meet you Miss Riza," Roy shot her another wide grin, hoping to redeem himself with the 'boyish charm' his sisters back in Central so often praised him for.
Miss Riza didn't even blink.
Roy frowned, sensing he had committed another faux pas. "Or would you prefer Miss Hawkeye?" he asked, quickly backtracking.
"Riza is fine," she responded quickly before glancing down at his luggage; one large greying duffel bag stitched with his fathers' initials. "I'll show you to your room before I fetch Father. He won't begin your lessons until the morning anyway. Would you like a hand with your bag?"
Roy suppressed a chuckle as he kindly rejected her offer. She was such a tiny thing that he doubted she would be able to lift the heavy bag; even he had struggled lugging it through town.
Riza nodded and wordlessly led him to the adjacent hallway and up a rickety wooden staircase that creaked threateningly as they ascended.
"So, are you an alchemist like your father?" he asked cheerfully as he followed her.
"No." she replied shortly.
"Oh. Both my parents were State Alchemists. I've been reading books about alchemy since I was a little kid, and I know the basics already, but having a teacher as brilliant as your father will really help," he continued chattily.
"If your parents are alchemists, why aren't they teaching you?" Miss Riza asked rather bluntly.
"Uh… well they're dead" it came out more awkward than he meant it to.
Roy had been an orphan for as long as he could remember and didn't see any sense in mourning a life he had never had. When he was little, he would sometimes feel a pang of jealousy whenever he saw other children being cuddled or comforted by their parents, but as he aged, he had come to accept his circumstances without complaint.
"Oh…" Riza said in a much softer voice, "I'm sorry."
Roy shrugged. "It's ok. They died a long time ago. I live with my aunt, and I have lots of sisters so it's not like I'm all alone."
He didn't notice the young girl flinch.
"That must be nice," she said kindly.
As they reached the top of the stairs, Riza led him down the end of the hallway and opened the up the far-most door, "this will be your bedroom. I hope it's up to your standards."
The room was as sparse as a guest bedroom could be. There was a rickety iron-wrought bed along the opposite wall, where a large bay window faced a paddock and barn below, and a matching oak dresser, and small desk next to the door.
"It's perfect, thank you" Roy turned to flash the girl another warm smile, but she had already turned to face away from him.
"The bathroom is the next room, and my room is across the hall. Please let me know if you need anything" she said in a tone that very much suggested he leave her alone. "Feel free to get settled in, and I'll let Father know that you're here."
Roy sighed as he was left alone in his new room for the next two years. There was nothing wrong with the place per se, and he was sure Master Hawkeye's daughter had done her best to make it as livable as the rest of the house, it was just so… impersonal. As was the rest of the house. From the peeling wallpaper, to the dusty stair banister and obvious lack of furniture or family pictures, the Hawkeye home was left feeling barren and hollow. It was a far cry from Madame Christmas' jovial bar Roy had grown up in.
Roy reminded himself he wasn't there to have fun. He was there to learn from Master Hawkeye, become an alchemist, and fulfil his plans of joining the military.
This wasn't a vacation, it was a means to an end, and he should be so grateful that the Hawkeye's had invited him into their home.
The first week in the Hawkeye's home could be summarised in one word as exhausting.
Master Hawkeye was certainly an eccentric man, with a constantly harried manner and high expectations but poor patience.
The man kept a strange schedule, seeming to rise early in the morning before any other inhabitants and studying until late into the afternoon until he would then summon Roy for his daily lessons. Some days their lessons could begin anytime from nine in the morning to six in the evening, leaving Roy without any semblance of a routine.
Still, Roy had to admit that he was learning far more alchemy than would have been possible with just textbooks. Once or twice, Berthold had come across an intriguing alchemical equation and immediately called upon Roy to see if the boy had been able to uncover it himself. It left Roy constantly on edge, but it also meant he was constantly learning.
The study was littered with books, some decades old with the pages tearing out, but Master Hawkeye treated them with more care than he seemed to take of himself, to the point that Roy was hesitant to go through them, afraid of what Master Hawkeye would do if they were returned with so much as a scratch.
The notes on flame alchemy were expressly forbidden, kept under lock and key while Roy was with him, and even his notes on general alchemy had been heavily edited for Roy's study.
"This entire room represents my entire life work, Roy Mustang," Master Hawkeye had told him in a hushed voice before so much as an introduction, "I am being so generous as to share it with you, and you will not take it for granted if you wish to study under me."
Roy had nodded and given his appreciation, even as he winced at the sight of a rat atop one of Master Hawkeye's desks. The older man either didn't notice or didn't care and began his interrogation of Roy, attempting to decipher his current comprehension of alchemy.
It didn't take long for Roy to realise that Master Hawkeye's daughter Riza was the one who was really running the household.
While the hollow house seemed to always be coated in a thin film of dust, there was the ever-present smell of lemon in the air, and since Roy had never seen Master Hawkeye leave his study, he surmised that it must have been Miss Riza doing all the cleaning.
She also seemed to do all of the cooking, as no matter how late he and Master Hawkeye studied into the night, Roy always returned to a plate of freshly prepared food in the kitchen.
He had tried to make an effort to thank the alchemist's daughter, but she had usually retreated back up to her own room by the time Roy finished with his lessons, and he didn't want to intrude on her personal space.
It wasn't until the first Sunday after he had arrived at the Hawkeye's estate that Roy was given a day off from lessons, and finally ran into Riza for the first time since meeting her.
There was a small section of the back garden which Riza had clearly decided was worthy enough to maintain as the grass was cut short and the outdoor wicker furniture was clear of any rust or dirt.
Attempting to enjoy some fresh air, Roy had stepped out of the stuffy house, breathing in the refreshing cold air, grateful for the escape even as he saw his breath in the winter air.
"Oh, hi," he said, when he noticed Miss Riza curled up on the wicker chair, holding a leather-bound book to her chest as she looked up at him with an incomprehensible look of fear in her eyes. "Sorry, I didn't realise you were out here. Do you mind if I sit? I'm feeling a little cooped up in there" he let out a nervous laugh.
Riza nodded. "Of course, Mr Mustang. You are permitted to come and go as you please."
Roy frowned. "Well thank you, but I asking if you minded, not if I was allowed. If you would rather be alone, I can go elsewhere…"
The blonde shook her head and simply gestured to the seat beside her. "It's fine, really." But she didn't look away from him as he sat, and seemed to be contemplating whether or not she should leave herself, looking rather like a spooked animal.
Awkwardly, Roy attempted to initiate a conversation. "I was hoping to run into you at some point, so that I could thank you for everything you do around the house. Your food is delicious."
"Oh" she sounded surprised, "well… you're welcome."
There was silence again.
Roy cleared his throat. "Where did you learn to cook? I grew up in a bar surrounded by women and still can barely toast bread without burning it" he joked.
Riza offered him a small smile and Roy felt a warm feeling spread throughout his chest at the gesture.
"My mother taught me," she said slowly, "we used to cook and bake a lot when I was little, and I still have her recipe books."
"She must have been quite the cook," Roy said kindly.
Riza nodded, finally looking a little more comfortable, setting her book down beside her rather than holding it up to her chest. "She was," she said quietly, a hint of sadness in her voice.
"I'm sorry." Roy had already figured that Master Hawkeye's wife had passed several years ago now. He had never seen another person in the house and when he tried to bring it up with Master Hawkeye, he had been abruptly rebuffed and the conversation shut down immediately.
Riza offered him a small smile and shrugged. "She died when I was seven. I don't have much else to remember her by."
"Is that one of her books?" Roy asked, indicating to her side.
Riza paused. "Yes…" she said slowly, picking it back up again. "It's an old book of fairytales. It's nothing literarily brilliant, but… they remind me of her" she blushed.
Roy found himself smiling at the young girl. "I understand." He didn't have many of his parents' things, but he treasured them all the same. He imagined Miss Riza felt the same way, by the way she seemed to be holding onto the book as if her life depended on it.
"Are you ok, Riza?" he asked, noting the odd behaviour.
"Hm?"
Roy gestured to her book. "I'm not going to try and steal it from you," he said, attempting humour but faltering when he noticed the way her eyes turned down.
"Wait –" he frowned, "is that something people have done to you before?"
The younger girl shifted uncomfortably. "Some of my father's old apprentices haven't been as appreciative as you have, Mr Mustang."
"That's awful!" he exclaimed, now angry on her behalf. "Have they stolen your things?"
Riza shrugged. "I mean… they always gave them back…"
"That's not the point!"
Riza winced at his raised voice, and Roy made a note to tone down the anger.
"Sorry. But you shouldn't have had to put up with that. And I promise I won't be stealing any of your things, or teasing you or anything."
"Really?" it was almost heartbreaking the way she perked up at the thought of simply being treated like a human being.
Roy grinned at her.
"If you'd like, I'd like to be your friend, Riza."
"Really?"
"On one condition," Roy teased.
"Oh?" her face fell, but Roy just smiled.
"You call me Roy, not 'Mr Mustang'. I'm not a hundred."
To his relief, the young girl laughed. "I think I'd like that… Roy."