Gold and Charcoal

Gold and Charcoal
Chapter 2
A Dog’s Life

It was expected, yet surprising to find out that two kids here could own quarters as large as the apartment Roy shared with three other men. Well, used to. They were down to three, for the time being.

The walls were painted a relaxing shade of deep blue, bare but for a large red sign between the two large bay windows opening on yet another garden. While it was hard to find one healthy tree in the outer city, it was full of luxurious vegetation on this side of the wall. Mustang tilted his head at the sign, knowing it was familiar. Now where-? Oh right. He glanced around and spotted his so-called owner. Yes, it was the same odd sign as on the back of his coat: a cross with a snake curling around it, under a crown and a pair of wings. What it meant, Roy had no idea. A religious sign maybe? Did blondies believe in God? He had heard they did not, because they had god-like powers of their own. Maybe it was a family crest then. He wondered if Edward and Alphonse had any other family. As far as he could tell, they were alone. While orphans were very common in the city, he would have thought it wasn’t the same here. Here, losing both your legs did not mean death. It just meant a painful operation to equip you with brand new limbs that did not tire. Sickness wasn’t so terrible; there were medicine available and good doctors with advanced equipment. No misery either, nobody died of hunger. So, of what could blondies die, aside from old age, if even that?

The brothers might have been the bastard offspring of some high ranked blondie, speculated Roy. It was common knowledge that the country’s leaders liked to keep ‘pets’, which was just a cute word to say ‘slave’ and ‘sex toy’. If a female pet got pregnant, and her children were born blond, they would not be thrown out, only treated as outcasts. The Elrics might have been the children of a blonde mother and a male slave instead, but Mustang had heard kids born like that were considered full blondies and their father’s identify simply denied. After all, you could not have any doubt on a kid’s mother, but you could wonder who the father was.

Roy stood there quietly, taking in all he saw and analyzing it carefully. Understanding was the first step to control, and once you controlled your environment, it could not hold you prisoner any longer.

Returning his attention to the room itself, Roy noticed there was only one bed, albeit large enough to fit three adults comfortably. It was embedded into the left wall and on each end the wall had been carved further, half of it into a curve to allow somebody to lie back against it comfortably to read and the other half carved as a library, with three shelves currently occupied by a good fifty books on both sides. Small stands stuck out as well, sporting large candles ready to be lit. How odd. They had electricity here, why bother with candles? It was probably just decoration. Not far from the bed, there were also wooden doors. A walk in closet certainly.

Two large leather couches were in the middle of the room, facing each other at an angle so that sitting in either one would not let the sunlight that came from the large windows blind you. A table was between them, sporting yet more books and a forgotten glass of a red liquid. Wine? At their age? Well, perhaps. They were blondies after all, abnormal children.

There was a dinning table beyond the couches and, behind it, a half wall hid what seemed to be a kitchen extending on the right of the large room; from his position, Roy only caught a glimpse of white counters. There was another door on the right side, that one probably leading to an outrageous bathroom matching the rest of the apartment, and a few more libraries and tables stood along the walls, displaying a few objects and – how surprising – more books. Lastly, a desk was situated squarely between the two windows. It was the only piece of furniture that was not covered with large leather-bound volumes.

Standing upright was beginning to be a most uncomfortable experience. With a grimace, Roy realized sitting down on the couch would only give Edward a reason to get upset at him, which he was not in the mood to deal with. So he settled for the ground – well he was as good as a dog now, wasn’t he? – and found it quite comfortable. He stretched out languidly, eyes half closed in contentment. It was black marble, deliciously cool and smooth under his throbbing ribcage.

Roy was – again - being ignored as his fate was discussed. He wondered idly if the brothers always bickered this way or if it was only because of him. Truth was, Edward always seemed lost when Alphonse grew mad at him and raised his voice. This time was no exception.

“Niisan, you are not making him sleep on the floor!”

“Why not?! He’s my dog, I can do what I want! It won’t kill him!” Gaping for words, Edward finally whirled toward Roy. His gaze stared a second at where the mongrel had been standing a few seconds ago before lowering to the ground. “So, Mustang, you tell me. Will sleeping on the floor be too much for your frail constitution? You seem to enjoy it already.”

“If you haven’t killed me yet, I hardly see how the floor could harm me in any way. I’m a big boy. And yes, I’m enjoying it, thank you.”

Edward clearly considered going over there to kick Roy. But they both knew that would not make Al any calmer. So instead Ed concentrated on his brother. “See, he says so too. Mongrels are used to sleep in dirt. Our clean floor is no problem!”

“It’s too cold. He’ll go sick.”

“I’ll get him a carpet!”

Roy was ignored once more, and it was fine with him. Just watching was interesting enough. He didn’t particularly care about where he would sleep, as long as he got to lay down straight to ease the throbbing of his ribs. The floor did as good a job as anything.

Mustang watched as Edward stalked out of the room - presumably in search of the promised carpet - and Alphonse shook his head, heading for the desk where he sat and began writing. The faint scratching of pen on paper was lulling, and even as the light dimmed, Roy lost himself in thoughts so deep he finally fell asleep. He woke with a start when the door opened and closed again on Edward. He blinked at the now-dark windows, wondering just how long Ed had been absent. Was finding a carpet so complicated?

The mission had been successful at least, since the boy held a rolled up object under his right arm. He proceeded to throw it in Roy’s general direction, with the following directives; “Put it where you are. That’s where you’ll sleep.”

For a carpet, it was quite impressive. It was a luscious white, apparently made of the fur and skin of some unlucky animal. An animal with very long and soft fur. Testing it, Roy found it almost more comfortable than a real mattress. He wouldn’t actually mind sleeping here. He settled down on it, the exact portray of a good pet. Edward scowled at him, weary of his apparent docility and maybe a little disgruntled Roy looked so damned pleased.

“Better than what you’re used to, mongrel?”

“Almost. Thank you.” He’d never gotten to sleep on something so soft after all.

With a snort, Edward wandered to the kitchen and scurried around, apparently fixing something to eat. He returned with a plate in hand, said plate covered in sandwiches. For some reason, Mustang would have thought blondies had somewhat pricier tastes. Of course it was probably simply due to Ed’s lack of culinary skills.

“That’s the best you can cook? No wonder you two are so scrawny for blondies.”

“Shut up.” It was automatic, like the longhaired blond hadn’t really listened.

There was a reason Edward didn’t care much about Roy right now. He visibly had more on his mind. Alphonse wasn’t long to discard his work, whatever it was, and move over to snuggle at his brother’s side while snacking on a sandwich.

“What is it, Niisan?”

“Him again,” snarled Edward.

Roy quirked an eyebrow as Alphonse winced. Who was this he, this guy the brothers seemed to dislike? Interesting. He shifted a little and directed his bored gaze on the boys, listening.

Ed grumbled an explanation. “He wants us to take down the sign.”

Edward could only mean the sign on the wall. Once again Mustang wondered what it meant. He was sure he seen it a long time before, not only on the boys’ coats. It rang a bell, somewhere deep in his memories. Perhaps it would become clearer if the Elrics kept talking.

“But…we’re not going to, are we?”

“Of course we won’t,” agreed Ed. It was hard to tell if he really cared about it or simply wanted to comfort his brother. “Besides, I told him we’re not getting rids of the coats, and that’s what people see anyway. What is on our walls doesn’t matter, there’s only us here.”

Alphonse craned his neck to glance up at the sign they spoke of. “Do you think he’ll put us in trouble?”

The elder grimaced and wrapped an arm around the shoulders of his brother. “He might. But we’ve gotten away with it for so many years, don’t see why he would go nuts on it now.”

“Because we’ve grown?” Looking discouraged, Al let himself sink until his head was on his brother’s shoulder. “Each year he’s been more annoying. Now it’s plain harassment. He used to ignore us completely.”

“Because we were just kids.”

“And kids can’t do much, can they, Niisan?” Alphonse raised his bare right hand to touch the hand slung over his shoulder. It was Ed’s automail hand, hidden under a white glove.

“Mn.” There seemed to be a secret there, judging by the way the older blond scowled and glanced away. “He might just doing it for fun. He’s a bastard.”

Al didn’t reply, just clutching the automail for long quiet moments. Roy kept watching, but they said no more, seemingly drifting off to sleep, clinging to one another. Well, that hadn’t exactly provided any clear answers, but he could speculate. Who could be harassing them? A man in a higher position surely, perhaps a soldier. Now…did he know any names? He’d heard of one Armstrong who terrorized people just by breathing near them, but he couldn’t recall his rank.

As his stomach gave a faint gurgle, Roy realized his unease wasn’t all due to his broken ribs. He was hungry. Fancy that, Edward hadn’t bothered about it. Nor about his painkillers, which Roy could also have used right now. That guy couldn’t have kept a real dog alive. He was much too self-centered.

Or not, corrected Roy, eyes sweeping over the cuddling brothers again. If there was one person Edward Elric cared about, it seemed to be his little brother.

The mongrel stretched carefully, bringing his body to a reclined position with his legs stretched out before him, and he tipped his torso back, holding himself there with a hand propped on the ground behind him. His dark gaze searched the room, pausing briefly over the plate of forgotten sandwiches, as he wondered where the hell that bottle was. He could do without food, but he had a feeling he wouldn’t sleep without some painkillers.

Ah, found. The tiny white bottle had been dropped beside a pile of reports of sorts, papers bound with clips. It was on a table near the door. So, glaring that way, he stood up, slung an arm around his ribcage and carefully stepped over. He caught the bottle and read the instructions. One every night. Mokay. It opened with a small pop and produced a tiny pink pill that he swallowed dry. It said it should be taken with food, but he wasn’t bent on trying his luck with Edward right now. And walking all the way to the couch and the table with the plate seemed too much. Never mind food. He’d complain about starving in the morning. He slid back to his designated bed and returned to his previous occupation of trying to go to sleep.

Shifting attracted the dark-haired man’s attention back to the couch. Roy just had the time to raise a hand to catch something that had been hurled at him. He smirked at the sandwich in his hand and wondered which boy had thrown it. They were both currently motionless. Impossible to tell which of them had stuck a hand out long enough to pitch some food his way. Probably Al. Edward would have taunted him., which, somehow, was beginning to be very amusing to Roy. He could have spent the whole day snarking at his ‘owner’ and watch him claw up the walls in an attempt not to dash over and kill his ‘pet’.

Of course, now that Mustang had been labeled not-dying, pushing the boy’s button may result in more physical harm. But truly, since when did Roy Mustang care about that? He’d spoken his mind ever since he’d been strong enough to back up his words with his fists. Sure, this time he had met somebody who could hit harder, but it didn’t mean defeat. All he needed was a little time to understand Edward Elric, and then the boy would find this mongrel was a fast learner and quick to adapt. Hitting him down would not be so easy the next time. There would be a next time; Mustang had no doubt about that. His big mouth and Edward’s temper would make sure of it.

He wasn’t quite asleep - just strolling down the drowsy line between the conscious and unconscious realm - when Edward and Alphonse decided the couch just wasn’t comfortable enough to spend the night. Ed nudged his brother, complaining about a stiff side.

“Sorry Niisan. Bed?”

“Bed,” agreed Ed.

Perhaps they thought Roy was asleep, perhaps they didn’t care. But they stepped out of their cloths and into simple pajama bottoms right there. Which allowed the mongrel to learn something else about the boys.

Once more, one of Roy’s eyebrows rose. Perhaps he should simply glue it like that; there was no end to the mysteries brought about by the boys. He studied Alphonse, comparing him to his brother. Where Edward was missing right arm and left leg, Alphonse was missing left arm and right leg. The only difference was that his leg seemed to be missing a bit more, his knee gone. How strange. He had thought Edward had been in an accident of some sort, but this was the proof it was something else. It was too weird of a coincidence to be natural.

He remained motionless as the boys stepped over him and climbed into bed, murmuring a few words to each other before falling into slumber, curled together like kittens.

What was going on here? Mustang idly tugged at his collar, wondering just how many questions would be raised, and just how long he’d have to wait for answers. Oh well. He was a patient man. He’d uncover the secrets of these two. It would give him something to do while he waited for his chance to escape at least.

-

Alphonse yawned, just once. He blinked the sleep out of his eyes and was awake. He slipped past his brother, over the form at the foot of the bed, and reached for a book and the couch. He would read until his brother woke, which could be anywhere in the next three hours. Settling down comfortably, he was very surprised to find the spot warm, as if somebody had been here not long ago. His gaze immediately went to his brother’s pet. Roy seemed to be sleeping, but Al noticed the not-quite-closed eye. He couldn’t help but chuckle and shake his head slightly. In answer, a tiny smirk grew on Mustang’s face. It only lasted a second before the man closed his eyes completely and truly went back to sleep.

Alphonse briefly wondered what would happen if Edward found out. But then again, Ed was a heavy sleeper and always woke late. A light sleeper could stay a step ahead of him easily. Heck, Roy had somehow slipped back without even letting Al notice, and the blonde knew he barely took fifteen seconds to wake up. Stretch, yawn, up. He made a mental note about it. This Roy Mustang was sneaky and quiet. It occurred to Al he could have done something while they slept. Sure, the door would not open for him, but he could have, oh, picked up something hard and tried to break their skulls. It was a new thing, to worry about a pet. But the more he thought about it, the more he was certain it wasn’t a dog his brother had collared, but a lion. It wasn’t because it lay there lazily that it wasn’t dangerous.

Full of this new weariness, Alphonse thoughtfully gazed at said sleeping lion. His initial take on the situation was that he was to prevent the two of them – his brother and this mongrel – to kill each other. Or, most likely, to stop his brother from crushing the man for a malicious jab or other. Now he wondered if there were any chances Roy would rebel. Pets were usually normal people raised and trained to be good servants or people in debts trying to work it off. They’d had a few before, mostly because between Edward and Alphonse, there weren’t even nearly enough culinary skills to figure out how to make lasagna. He wondered briefly if Mustang knew how to cook. He was getting tired of sandwiches. His grey eyes stared at the plate, on which two forgotten sandwiches lay.

But he was digressing. The point was, taking Mustang in wasn’t such a trivia matter. What would stop him from trying to murder them when he became fed up with Edward’s treatment? Alphonse gathered what he knew of the man. It was very little in truth. But if he had picked up anything, it was that the man was smarter than he seemed. Roy knew he was practically asking for trouble, but he preferred to deal with it than bend. Highly interesting mentality. Proud and ready to defend it. In that line of thoughts, he was not self-destructive. It was safe to assume he would not do anything that would directly cause his death. Perhaps it would still be a good idea to ask Edward to keep Roy leashed at night? Any other time Alphonse was confident any hostile move would easily be countered. He touched his left arm at that thought, almost sighing at the cold feel of the automail. But then again, he reminded himself of the warm couch. He just couldn’t blame anyone for dissing the floor. Their previous pets had taken the couch as theirs, he didn’t see why Roy shouldn’t have the same right. As long as Edward didn’t know…

Too many questions. Just…too complicated. Alphonse was still staring at Mustang, idly examining him. The man was definitively sound asleep right now, body barely moving while he breathed. He was probably unconsciously breathing in smaller puffs than usual to lessen the strain on his ribs. He looked a lot nicer like that, the smirk absent from his face and his hair ruffled like a child’s. Somehow he still retained his dignity, even now, as he rested on his side, a bent arm in guise of pillow. His exposed chest had almost the same tone as his face, meaning he used to spend a lot of time in the sun, shirtless.

Eventually Edward stirred to his turn, pulling at a messy braid. He’d forgotten to undo it and it now looked little more than a snake nest. He sat up, with difficulties, and stumbled out of bed like usual, with very little coordination. Only, today there was something in the way. His foot caught and he yelped, crashing down. There was another yelp besides his, that one coming from the one tripped upon.

“Are you trying to kill me?!”

“You’re the one who made me sleep there,” replied Roy, rubbing his side with a grimace. “And I should be saying that to you. These hurt you know.” He grimaced some more and attempted to lower himself back on the floor properly, but not on his carpet. He yearned for the cool of the stone floor right then. Stretched out on his belly, he relaxed a little. “Better.” He peeked up. “I suppose you’re more used to people tripping on you than you tripping on them.”

Edward grumbled some nonsense and returned to his own business. Only a few words could be made out. Coffee. He needed some bloody coffee. He walked past Al and the latter reached out, pulling Edward’s pajama bottom higher. It’d been riding a little too low to be decent.

“Niisan, you hair is a mess.”

“I know, I know. I’ll take care of it later.”

Some scuffling later, the one with the messy braid stumbled back with two cups, offering one to his brother. “Coffee?”

“Thank you Niisan.” Al cupped it with both hands and took a few sips. He didn’t need caffeine to wake up, but it was nice to start the day by drinking a mug of coffee beside his brother. Edward didn’t care about savoring his drink; he reversed his head, tipped the cup and barely gave a wince as the hot liquid slid down his throat. He made a face at his empty mug, like surprised there wasn’t anything left in it already. His gaze went from it to the kitchen a good seven times before he sighed and made the effort of standing up and going back for more. To be safe, he came back with two, just for himself. But before he could get to his third, Alphonse reached to the table and snagged the last cup.

“Enough coffee Niisan.”

“I’m not awake yet.”

“Yes you are.”

Ed eyed the cup. “But what would one more do? It won’t kill me.”

“If you can argue, you’re definitively awake Niisan. I’m not dealing with you when you’re hyper.”

Edward sunk back in the couch, crossing his arms sulkily. “Oh come on. I’m not that bad.”

“I’m sure.” Two words, more than enough to remind Ed of the new roommate. He paused in the middle of attempting to wrestle the tie out of his braid and narrowed his eyes at Roy.

Alphonse thought this the perfect time to jump in. “Can you cook, Roy?”

“Cook?” For once the man looked a little confused. “I can do basic receipts. Cakes, noodles, various soups.”

“What about lasagna?”

“If I have what I need, of course.”

“Really?” Edward perked up, suddenly in a good mood.

Something must have clicked as Mustang looked at their hopeful faces. “Am I right to assume you can’t cook to save your life?”

“Shut up.”

“It might help if you used a stool, to see over the counter,” suggested Roy.

“How about I use you? Your back would do nicely.”

“I’m not sure even that will be enough to raise you to the level of normal sized people.”

“I’ll content myself with having you bellow me.” Edward couldn’t find much to reply. Alphonse felt Ed would have liked to go into a fit of rage, but thought that mongrel didn’t deserve it. As long as Niisan, told himself that, slaughter would be avoided. “And while we’re talking about size and such, you have better get used to calling me ‘shukun’ or I’ll have to beat it in your head.”

“Shukun…old language,” Mustang needed a few seconds to remember. “Means master, correct?”

“I’m surprised there’s enough brain cells to store that knowledge in your head. What’s with all the times you must have been hit on the head with your foul mouth.”

Roy’s eyes shadowed a little, like offended. “I only ever lost twice, Shokun.” His stomach quivered to remember him of something more important than snipping at Edward. “Now I know you have trouble grasping the concept, but when we of the slums own an animal, like a dog, we usually feed it. It tends to keep them alive.”

“You don’t say. Would you still feed it if bit you?”

“I haven’t tries my teeth on you yet, Shokun,” came the mild reply.

Alphonse had a fist twisted in his brother’s pants, the other holding his book. Fine, let them bicker. As long as nobody bled on the floor, he wouldn’t bother to say anything. Although, it wasn’t long for his stomach to protest as well.

Edward heeded that one.“Hungry, Al?”

“Very. And don’t even suggest toasts Niisan. I had enough of those for the year.”

“I can make pancakes.” Roy was smiling, sounding amused.

Edward paused. He was probably considering the merits of ignoring the mongrel and making food himself, but his lack of skills haunted both of them. Alphonse grimaced at the idea of what the pancakes would taste like if his brother tried to made them and gave a pained little sound that Edward heard and winced at, understanding the message. “Then get up and get to work mongrel! We have important work to do here!”

Mustang complied with a smirk. He was getting hungry too. Pancakes were what he felt like eating, and he’d just been given leave to make them. Good way to start the day. He was pleasantly surprised to find the kitchen clean and equipped with everything he could possibly need. He suspected the boys barely dared to touch anything. Really, how did they expect to grow if they didn’t eat properly? Not that he would ever tease him about it, but Alphonse was not all that tall either. Roy suspected it was the automail’s fault. Those things didn’t look exactly light.

Roy’s amusement reached a new peek when, as he was dropping spoonfuls of goo in the frying pan and the rising scent drifted to them, the boys grew restless. Al was tapping his pen on the edge of his book and Ed kept looking up every two minutes from his automail – he was attempting to oil it apparently - and scowled at Roy when their gazes crossed.

Eventually Edward stalked over and attempted to steal a freshly made pancake waiting beside the frying pan.

“You might not want to taste that one Shokun,” warned Roy.

“Shut up.”

The face Edward made after biting in it was so very entertaining Mustang gave a short laugh, his shoulders shaking slightly. “I warned you.” Ed coughed, spat the food on the floor, and ran to the tap for water. Roy just watched and explained, lightly; “I have strange tastes. You might want to wait for me to tell you what’s for you, next time.”

Edward wiped the water off hi chin with his hand and hissed, quite red. “You did that on purpose!”

“How could I ever have guessed you like to steal food before it’s on the table? I just spiced this one while waiting for the others to be done.” But the sparkle in his eyes said otherwise. He had anticipated the boy’s behavior, and he’d been correct.

That did it. Edward Elric did not like being insulted – Roy already knew that perfectly well - and he had a short fuse – Roy knew that too – which had just burned out. The boy rammed into the taller man, automail shoulder first. It made the victim gasp, ribs protesting loudly. Ed caught the man by the neck and yanked him down to his height. That wasn’t enjoyable either, to be thus held bent down.

“Okay. I don’t think I made myself clear enough. Let’s try this again. Your role is to shut up and do what I tell you to. The end. Clear?”

“Of course.” Roy wasn’t about to say anything now. His back was already complaining. He was allowed to breath, suddenly released. But it seemed Edward still thought his point hadn’t gotten across. To enforce it, he decided to clench a particularly sensible area. Roy shut his eyes without a sound.

“And I mean it, mongrel.”

Mustang had to lean back on the wall for several minutes, just waiting for the pain to recede a little. That hurt. Somebody couldn’t take a little joke. But that was okay. He didn’t plan to remain here too long. He heard Al talk to his brother, neither of them sounding too happy. But they didn’t fight.

The boys did get to enjoy the meal in the end, pleasure evident on their faces as they stuffed themselves. There were no more problems that morning, Edward seemingly in a rush to leave. He clothed himself hastily, picked up a round silver object and dashed out the door with a wave for Al.

Alphonse for his part returned to whatever he worked on at the desk. As far as Roy could tell, he did research, thus why there were so many books around. Confident the shorthaired blond wouldn’t say anything, the man chose to relax on one of the couches. Al frowned briefly, but shook his head and – just as Mustang had predicted - preferred to let him be.

It was boring. Oh, so very boring. Roy had the time to pin point all the cracks in every walls, and all the ones in the ceiling too. He gave some attention to the ground as well, watching the smooth patterns in the dark stone. Geez, what was he supposed to do? Edward was off to work, Al was working too, and he was stuck in here to drive himself mad with boredom. He wanted to explore the place, not stay cooped up in this room.

Mustang spent some time at the window, checking the garden. Possible escape route? They were a few feet above the ground, but nothing he couldn’t jump down. It was only a question of good landing to avoid breaking (more) bones. From there…well he could try to get on the roof by the trees - some of them were quite tall - and the outer wall wasn’t far from there. He could probably get to it, but how to cross? It was surely well guarded. Soldiers, chimeras, traps, and only god knew what else. He needed more information. He also needed ribs that weren’t broken.

It was the first time Roy found himself with absolutely nothing to occupy himself with. Nothing to do, nothing to plan, nobody to harass. Desperate, he wandered to the kitchen and rummaged through the fridge, picking out an old chocolate bar and ice cream. Armed with those, he proceeded to make milk shake. Alphonse blinked surprised grey eyes at the glass that was shoved under his nose, but took it with a smile in thanks. Going back, Roy busied himself cleaning the kitchen. He was that desperate for something to do. That done, he spent another hour sighing to himself, back on the couch. Bored, bored, bored. He wanted action! He wanted something. He was about to start gnawing on the couch damnit.

Lighting caught the new slave’s attention. The sky had darkened while he wasn’t looking, forcing Al to lighten up a lamp. It was only mid after-noon. Well, better than nothing to pass the time. He moved his carpet to the ground beside Al’s large chair and put his back to it. Head laying on the chair’s armrest, he watched the light show. He liked storms. The way the air was full of electricity, the way the sky rumbled and shot fire at the Earth. Power. A storm was so powerful, about to strike down humans, able to burn them to death. Roy would have liked such power to be his.

A book fell from the table, knocked down by Al’s automail elbow. Roy caught it and flipped the pages, curious. He understood then. “Alchemy,” he mused aloud. The secret weapon of the blondies, the dark art only they could master.

“Yes,” nodded Al, pen working fast.

“Both of you?”

“Yes. We’re alchemists.”

“A bit young for something so serious, no?”

“We’re older than we look. And here people have to make themselves useful. Otherwise…well they don’t like feeding useless people.”

“But not all blondies are alchemists.”

“True. We don’t all have the talent for it. We have soldiers, inventors, automail mechanics, leaders, bearers.”

“Bearers?”

“Women. We’re a little short on them. So we tend to keep them even if they are useless. They can make children.” Alphonse never stopped writing, talking like it was nothing. Somehow Roy thought it was a sign it bothered him.

“I see….” He kept flipping through the books, looking at the signs. They were pretty things, these round designs. It wasn’t long before Roy absorbed himself in the text, slowly coming to grip with the strange terms used. Array. Rebound. Transmutation.

Edward found them there, both deep into large books. He snorted at Roy. “You can read?”

“No, I’m just looking at the pictures,” retorted Roy calmly.

“Figures.”

“How was it, Niisan?”

“Same old. Some moron fucked up his array, got a nasty rebound. I told them to double check before they start. Deserves what he got.”

“What happened?” Al had paused and turned around to look at his brother.

“It ate away half his body,” quietly answered Edward. “His chimera lived, but we’re not keeping it. It has his arms.”

“….oh.” Alphonse bit his lip and clenched his automail. Well then, reflected Roy. One mystery solved. Or darkened. He wasn’t sure which. Either way, he now knew that the boys had lost their limbs to alchemy, somehow. A simple mistake? Perhaps. Or something else.

Why did he have a feeling it was ‘something else’?