The Key
The girl dodged the rocky spears with moderate ease, but she couldn’t do anything when a huge icy hand pushed her down, pinning her on the ground.
“You need to learn to think faster, girl,” Dante said, her voice taunting. Her hands were placed on a small pond nearby, and there was an almost contemptuous expression on her austere features.
Lyra didn’t even bother to reply to that. She was being too busy trying to escape her predicament. She kicked, she screamed, she even twisted her hands at all sorts of odd angles in an attempt to draw a transmutation circle. It was of no use.
“Giving up?” Dante asked.
Lyra’s limbs still made a few futile, half-hearted attempts. The girl herself was breathing heavily, too tired to put much of a struggle anymore. She barely managed to say something in a murmur.
“What was that?” Dante said, a smirk tugging on her lips.
“I said: ‘Yes’!” the girl replied, almost shouting in frustration.
“All right.” The icy hand had melted in a matter of seconds, leaving Lyra drenched in a puddle of water. “Now get up,” the elderly woman commanded, drying her wet hands on her long skirt. She beckoned the girl to walk next to her as they returned back to the mansion.
“Well…” Dante started, knitting neatly her fingers together like any teacher addressing their student. “Can you tell me what mistakes you made?”
“I didn’t react fast enough to avoid the ice.”
“Come now, child; that isn’t the problem here. There’s always that chance that you won’t be able to react fast enough. The question is: what are you supposed to do once that happens?”
“But there was no way I could fight back!”
“Really?” Dante said. “Your hands were free.”
“I couldn’t draw a transmutation circle on the ground.”
“You could draw one on the ice. And then you could either melt it or shatter it – or you could transmute it into a weapon against me.”
The girl widened her eyes, she realising just how badly she had blundered. “I didn’t think of that,” she said.
“Exactly,” Dante said, opening the door. “That’s one of your major vices: you give up too easily. Never stop thinking, and you’ll live longer.”
“Yes, Teacher,” Lyra said, and she quickly rushed to the top floor to refresh herself. Dante walked to her own room, releasing her hair from their tight bun with a heavy sigh.
“The body is certainly trained, but the mind…” she muttered to no one in particular, shaking her head. “But if everything goes well, that will change soon enough.”
The phone rang loudly, cutting her off her musings. Surprised, she walked up to the small table and picked up the receiver. “Hello?”
“It’s me.”
Dante recognised Sloth’s voice at once. “Why the phone-call?” she asked indignantly. “I’ve already given you your orders.”
“It couldn’t wait. We discovered something further about our mysterious sergeant.”
The elderly woman’s ears pricked up at once. “Oh? Go on.”
“I don’t think you’ll like it,” the homunculus said.
“Out with it.”
There was a small pause, during which Dante guessed that Sloth was probably trying to think from where it would be best to start.
“It would seem that Mr. Beregond isn’t who he claims to be. A brigadier general has found a death certificate which proves that. Apparently, the sergeant is supposed to have been dead for the last thirteen years. Still, his face and the face in a photograph from that time matches almost perfectly.”
“What?” Dante’s hand clenched more tightly around the receiver. “Are you sure of this?”
“Beyond any doubt. And there’s more than that. His homeland is in Resembool.”
Resembool?
Wait a minute…
“What’s the name on the death certificate?”
There was another pause as Sloth looked up at the name. “William Brice.”
Dante almost gasped in shock. “You said Brice?” she asked urgently.
“Yes.”
It was then that Dante realised why that face on the photograph she had was so familiar. She smiled as she stumbled upon a revelation beyond her wildest dreams.
My, my… this is almost too precious.
“What did you do with the brigadier general?”
“He has already been taken care of.”
“Good. Destroy the certificate and the photograph – they’re of no more use to us.”
“Yes, Dante.”
“And, Sloth?”
“Yes?”
“Where are the Elric boys and the Sergeant now?”
“They’ve left Central and they are now travelling South.”
Dante’s smile broadened. Things seemed to be getting better and better. “Contact Envy and Pride. They’ll have to do a little spying for me once again.”
“What are you hoping to find?” Sloth asked, genuinely curious now.
“Him.”
There was silence for many long moments, until the homunculus decided to break it. “I understand. Will that be all?”
“For the time being. Now see to your orders – all of them.”
“Yes, Dante.” And Sloth hung up.
Beregond turned on his side, still keeping his eyes closed. He was feeling dizzy, but fortunately not enough to empty the contents of his stomach. No. This time his discomfort was due to another reason. His confrontation with the Führer.
Did he act too paranoid when he told Havoc about the man’s resemblance to Dűrinas? Perhaps he did. Even after all he had seen and discovered, after seeing shattered all the things he had taken for granted in the last forty years… Beregond’s heart still didn’t obey the cruel truths of reason. That the two worlds were entirely different, in spite of the common principals they shared. That the Gondorians and the Amestrians were different too, no matter their ancestry or the blood that flowed in their veins or the features on their faces.
But that voice, those words, that secrecy… Should he have just overlooked them?
He turned on his other side and tried not to think anymore. What was done was done and it couldn’t be changed. He could simply hope that nothing bad would come out of it.
Just then, he heard another sound above the raucous of the train wheels. Recognising who it could be, he opened his eyes and looked curiously at Al.
“I was hoping you were sleeping,” the suit of armour said shyly.
Beregond shook his head and propped himself on his elbow. “Where are the others?”
“I’ve left them eating some pie that Mrs Hughes made for us,” the suit of armour answered. “Is it okay if I sit here with you?”
“Of course,” Beregond said, motioning with his hand at the other seat. He smiled teasingly. “Let’s hope your brother leaves some pie for Winry.”
Al laughed, sharing the humour. “Well, it’s a good thing Mrs Hughes taught Winry how to make more if needed,” he said, sitting down. He paused for a moment, his flickers of eyes reflecting something that Beregond identified as longing. “Winry said she will make some for me when I get my body back.”
“She’s a good friend.”
“Yeah… Yeah, she is.”
Beregond didn’t speak for some time, regarding the armour in a questioning manner. “Did you tell her?”
Al’s eyes brightened in surprise. “Tell her what?”
Beregond raised an eyebrow, unsure as to what to make of that reaction. “About our real reason for heading south.”
“Oh.” Al bowed his head slightly. “No. Not yet.”
The man sighed. “I thought we all three had agreed on it. You’ll have to tell her sooner or later.”
“I know. It’s just that…” the suit of armour paused to huff in mild frustration. “Brother doesn’t want to scare her.”
“Scare her?” Beregond didn’t understand at first, but then he remembered something very important concerning the young girl. “That’s right,” he said softly. “Her parents died in Ishbal.”
Al nodded.
“All the more reason she has to know if we’re to meet the Ishbalans,” Beregond insisted. “Whatever archives they have on alchemy might prove important; you said so yourself.” He paused, pondering on matters for a moment. “Do you want me to tell her?”
“That’s okay,” Al said, shaking his head. “We’ll tell her when we get to Rush Valley.”
Beregond considered objecting at first. He really wanted to tell Al that delaying and stalling wouldn’t help matters at all. Besides all that, Winry herself had to be the judge of what she could handle and what not. He finally decided against it though. If there was something that both boys knew quite well besides alchemy, it was to take responsibility for their actions.
So, all that he said in the end was: “All right, when we get to Rush Valley. But not a day later.”
The sound of footfalls was the only sound that echoed throughout Dante’s study. The old woman kept pacing up and down the room in agitation, one thought after another piling in her mind.
On the one hand there was William Brice, a man dead beyond any doubt. On the other hand, there was Sergeant Beregond, a man very much alive who was certainly not from Amestris if his language alone was taken under consideration. That meant there was a man gone from this world when his health failed him and a man who had appeared in this world out of nowhere.
Two contradictory backgrounds of the same person would have been quite the puzzling matter indeed. But Dante had discovered long ago a secret behind the curtain of mystery which screened the workings of nature from the prying eyes of the unworthy. Because of that, she knew that the two backgrounds weren’t contradictory at all. They were, in fact, two different ones entirely.
Apparently, somebody else had discovered the key to unlock that sort of secret and used it for his own ends. Dante knew only one who could manage that, and if he really was behind this then she would have to find him. His answers would bring her one step closer to absolute power.
First, however, she would have to verify her suspicions. After making sure Lyra was still upstairs and so she wouldn’t be missed, Dante headed for the library. She pushed one of the bookcases aside and clapped once to reveal a secret opening. She stepped slowly inside and, moments later, she was in another room, a scantily furnished and dark one at that. The only things that could be seen under the dim light of a torch were a desk, a chair and a bed, where a huddled form was currently lying and regarding Dante with loathing in his glazed eyes.
“Haven’t you grown tired of coming here, asking me the same thing when you know my answer will always be ‘No’?” the old man said.
“I haven’t come for the man’s journal this time, Syndow. I’ve come for some other answers,” Dante said. “And you had better give them to me.”
The door swung open and Maes stepped into Elysia’s room. He was followed closely behind by Gracia, who was holding her daughter tenderly in her arms. The girl herself was sleeping, peacefully oblivious to everything that was going on around her, including the conversation of her parents.
“You didn’t tell him anything of what happened these past few days?” Gracia asked, a thoughtful look settled on her features.
“I couldn’t,” Maes said simply. He took Elysia carefully into his arms so that he could put her in bed. “He should focus on other matters now.”
“He’s your friend, Maes,” Gracia replied. “It’s only natural that he’s concerned about what’s going on.”
Maes sighed. “Gracia…” His hands clutched the edge of Elysia’s blanket tightly. “Whoever was behind the operation of the lab must be someone within the army, and I suspect it’s someone very important. Someone who’s able to monitor the soldiers’ actions and avoid being discovered.” He didn’t face his wife, his features shadowed as the light from the hallway didn’t hit him directly. “Maybe even have their houses tapped.”
Gracia flinched at this, a small gasping sound escaping his lips. “But… if that’s true, Roy has to know about this.”
“No,” Maes said adamantly. “Not until I find something more tangible.”
The woman wrung her hands nervously, understanding perfectly well what her husband meant. “Just… be careful,” she whispered.
Maes didn’t answer this time. He simply caressed Elysia’s cheek affectionately, a small smile tugging on his lips; a smile that this time didn’t reach his eyes to chase away the darkness reflected within them.
“Daddy will have to work late tonight, sweetheart,” he said in a soft tone, leaning down to place a small kiss on the girl’s forehead. “Goodnight.”
He only cast a reassuring glance at Gracia’s direction before he walked out the door.
He was in the dark again. She left a bit more than a quarter of an hour ago, after making sure she gave him his usual meagre rations in food and water. As she said, it was his reward for co-operating this time.
Syndow sighed. It was against his gentlemanly contact to betray another man’s trust in him, but he was certain that that Dante person already knew a lot more than she let on. Even if he hadn’t said anything, she would have taken his silence as more than enough answer to the questions she asked him, thus making his discretion pointless.
Nevertheless, he refused to translate the Gondorian’s journal for her. He didn’t know how she acquired it, but he was more than certain that it was through devious means. And whatever it was that she was hoping she’d find in there, he wasn’t going to help her find it.
Still… this journal provided an account of a man whose life began 6,000 years ago in another world. That man’s life was so different back then, resembling the tales Syndow had spent almost half a life-time to gather. And it was enriched with so much wondrous detail that it made the professor imagine how the world was back then, even feel like he was there. More importantly, it was filled with the emotions of this man, this Gondorian. All his fears, all his beliefs and even his impressions of this world and life he was currently leading were put into words of such sheer beauty in their simplicity that it put powerful epics and elegant poems into shame.
It was a journal of a man who lived everything Syndow could only mentally touch through the languages and stories in which he had dedicated his soul. That made Syndow wish to know this man, to understand him and his world better. And perhaps through it all understand this world as well.
Now he had that chance. That was why, under the dim light of that torch that was still on the wall, Syndow worked fervently to translate the journal without being discovered by his captor, trying to quench that thirst his scientific mind was craving.
TBC…
“You need to learn to think faster, girl,” Dante said, her voice taunting. Her hands were placed on a small pond nearby, and there was an almost contemptuous expression on her austere features.
Lyra didn’t even bother to reply to that. She was being too busy trying to escape her predicament. She kicked, she screamed, she even twisted her hands at all sorts of odd angles in an attempt to draw a transmutation circle. It was of no use.
“Giving up?” Dante asked.
Lyra’s limbs still made a few futile, half-hearted attempts. The girl herself was breathing heavily, too tired to put much of a struggle anymore. She barely managed to say something in a murmur.
“What was that?” Dante said, a smirk tugging on her lips.
“I said: ‘Yes’!” the girl replied, almost shouting in frustration.
“All right.” The icy hand had melted in a matter of seconds, leaving Lyra drenched in a puddle of water. “Now get up,” the elderly woman commanded, drying her wet hands on her long skirt. She beckoned the girl to walk next to her as they returned back to the mansion.
“Well…” Dante started, knitting neatly her fingers together like any teacher addressing their student. “Can you tell me what mistakes you made?”
“I didn’t react fast enough to avoid the ice.”
“Come now, child; that isn’t the problem here. There’s always that chance that you won’t be able to react fast enough. The question is: what are you supposed to do once that happens?”
“But there was no way I could fight back!”
“Really?” Dante said. “Your hands were free.”
“I couldn’t draw a transmutation circle on the ground.”
“You could draw one on the ice. And then you could either melt it or shatter it – or you could transmute it into a weapon against me.”
The girl widened her eyes, she realising just how badly she had blundered. “I didn’t think of that,” she said.
“Exactly,” Dante said, opening the door. “That’s one of your major vices: you give up too easily. Never stop thinking, and you’ll live longer.”
“Yes, Teacher,” Lyra said, and she quickly rushed to the top floor to refresh herself. Dante walked to her own room, releasing her hair from their tight bun with a heavy sigh.
“The body is certainly trained, but the mind…” she muttered to no one in particular, shaking her head. “But if everything goes well, that will change soon enough.”
The phone rang loudly, cutting her off her musings. Surprised, she walked up to the small table and picked up the receiver. “Hello?”
“It’s me.”
Dante recognised Sloth’s voice at once. “Why the phone-call?” she asked indignantly. “I’ve already given you your orders.”
“It couldn’t wait. We discovered something further about our mysterious sergeant.”
The elderly woman’s ears pricked up at once. “Oh? Go on.”
“I don’t think you’ll like it,” the homunculus said.
“Out with it.”
There was a small pause, during which Dante guessed that Sloth was probably trying to think from where it would be best to start.
“It would seem that Mr. Beregond isn’t who he claims to be. A brigadier general has found a death certificate which proves that. Apparently, the sergeant is supposed to have been dead for the last thirteen years. Still, his face and the face in a photograph from that time matches almost perfectly.”
“What?” Dante’s hand clenched more tightly around the receiver. “Are you sure of this?”
“Beyond any doubt. And there’s more than that. His homeland is in Resembool.”
Resembool?
Wait a minute…
“What’s the name on the death certificate?”
There was another pause as Sloth looked up at the name. “William Brice.”
Dante almost gasped in shock. “You said Brice?” she asked urgently.
“Yes.”
It was then that Dante realised why that face on the photograph she had was so familiar. She smiled as she stumbled upon a revelation beyond her wildest dreams.
My, my… this is almost too precious.
“What did you do with the brigadier general?”
“He has already been taken care of.”
“Good. Destroy the certificate and the photograph – they’re of no more use to us.”
“Yes, Dante.”
“And, Sloth?”
“Yes?”
“Where are the Elric boys and the Sergeant now?”
“They’ve left Central and they are now travelling South.”
Dante’s smile broadened. Things seemed to be getting better and better. “Contact Envy and Pride. They’ll have to do a little spying for me once again.”
“What are you hoping to find?” Sloth asked, genuinely curious now.
“Him.”
There was silence for many long moments, until the homunculus decided to break it. “I understand. Will that be all?”
“For the time being. Now see to your orders – all of them.”
“Yes, Dante.” And Sloth hung up.
Beregond turned on his side, still keeping his eyes closed. He was feeling dizzy, but fortunately not enough to empty the contents of his stomach. No. This time his discomfort was due to another reason. His confrontation with the Führer.
Did he act too paranoid when he told Havoc about the man’s resemblance to Dűrinas? Perhaps he did. Even after all he had seen and discovered, after seeing shattered all the things he had taken for granted in the last forty years… Beregond’s heart still didn’t obey the cruel truths of reason. That the two worlds were entirely different, in spite of the common principals they shared. That the Gondorians and the Amestrians were different too, no matter their ancestry or the blood that flowed in their veins or the features on their faces.
But that voice, those words, that secrecy… Should he have just overlooked them?
He turned on his other side and tried not to think anymore. What was done was done and it couldn’t be changed. He could simply hope that nothing bad would come out of it.
Just then, he heard another sound above the raucous of the train wheels. Recognising who it could be, he opened his eyes and looked curiously at Al.
“I was hoping you were sleeping,” the suit of armour said shyly.
Beregond shook his head and propped himself on his elbow. “Where are the others?”
“I’ve left them eating some pie that Mrs Hughes made for us,” the suit of armour answered. “Is it okay if I sit here with you?”
“Of course,” Beregond said, motioning with his hand at the other seat. He smiled teasingly. “Let’s hope your brother leaves some pie for Winry.”
Al laughed, sharing the humour. “Well, it’s a good thing Mrs Hughes taught Winry how to make more if needed,” he said, sitting down. He paused for a moment, his flickers of eyes reflecting something that Beregond identified as longing. “Winry said she will make some for me when I get my body back.”
“She’s a good friend.”
“Yeah… Yeah, she is.”
Beregond didn’t speak for some time, regarding the armour in a questioning manner. “Did you tell her?”
Al’s eyes brightened in surprise. “Tell her what?”
Beregond raised an eyebrow, unsure as to what to make of that reaction. “About our real reason for heading south.”
“Oh.” Al bowed his head slightly. “No. Not yet.”
The man sighed. “I thought we all three had agreed on it. You’ll have to tell her sooner or later.”
“I know. It’s just that…” the suit of armour paused to huff in mild frustration. “Brother doesn’t want to scare her.”
“Scare her?” Beregond didn’t understand at first, but then he remembered something very important concerning the young girl. “That’s right,” he said softly. “Her parents died in Ishbal.”
Al nodded.
“All the more reason she has to know if we’re to meet the Ishbalans,” Beregond insisted. “Whatever archives they have on alchemy might prove important; you said so yourself.” He paused, pondering on matters for a moment. “Do you want me to tell her?”
“That’s okay,” Al said, shaking his head. “We’ll tell her when we get to Rush Valley.”
Beregond considered objecting at first. He really wanted to tell Al that delaying and stalling wouldn’t help matters at all. Besides all that, Winry herself had to be the judge of what she could handle and what not. He finally decided against it though. If there was something that both boys knew quite well besides alchemy, it was to take responsibility for their actions.
So, all that he said in the end was: “All right, when we get to Rush Valley. But not a day later.”
The sound of footfalls was the only sound that echoed throughout Dante’s study. The old woman kept pacing up and down the room in agitation, one thought after another piling in her mind.
On the one hand there was William Brice, a man dead beyond any doubt. On the other hand, there was Sergeant Beregond, a man very much alive who was certainly not from Amestris if his language alone was taken under consideration. That meant there was a man gone from this world when his health failed him and a man who had appeared in this world out of nowhere.
Two contradictory backgrounds of the same person would have been quite the puzzling matter indeed. But Dante had discovered long ago a secret behind the curtain of mystery which screened the workings of nature from the prying eyes of the unworthy. Because of that, she knew that the two backgrounds weren’t contradictory at all. They were, in fact, two different ones entirely.
Apparently, somebody else had discovered the key to unlock that sort of secret and used it for his own ends. Dante knew only one who could manage that, and if he really was behind this then she would have to find him. His answers would bring her one step closer to absolute power.
First, however, she would have to verify her suspicions. After making sure Lyra was still upstairs and so she wouldn’t be missed, Dante headed for the library. She pushed one of the bookcases aside and clapped once to reveal a secret opening. She stepped slowly inside and, moments later, she was in another room, a scantily furnished and dark one at that. The only things that could be seen under the dim light of a torch were a desk, a chair and a bed, where a huddled form was currently lying and regarding Dante with loathing in his glazed eyes.
“Haven’t you grown tired of coming here, asking me the same thing when you know my answer will always be ‘No’?” the old man said.
“I haven’t come for the man’s journal this time, Syndow. I’ve come for some other answers,” Dante said. “And you had better give them to me.”
The door swung open and Maes stepped into Elysia’s room. He was followed closely behind by Gracia, who was holding her daughter tenderly in her arms. The girl herself was sleeping, peacefully oblivious to everything that was going on around her, including the conversation of her parents.
“You didn’t tell him anything of what happened these past few days?” Gracia asked, a thoughtful look settled on her features.
“I couldn’t,” Maes said simply. He took Elysia carefully into his arms so that he could put her in bed. “He should focus on other matters now.”
“He’s your friend, Maes,” Gracia replied. “It’s only natural that he’s concerned about what’s going on.”
Maes sighed. “Gracia…” His hands clutched the edge of Elysia’s blanket tightly. “Whoever was behind the operation of the lab must be someone within the army, and I suspect it’s someone very important. Someone who’s able to monitor the soldiers’ actions and avoid being discovered.” He didn’t face his wife, his features shadowed as the light from the hallway didn’t hit him directly. “Maybe even have their houses tapped.”
Gracia flinched at this, a small gasping sound escaping his lips. “But… if that’s true, Roy has to know about this.”
“No,” Maes said adamantly. “Not until I find something more tangible.”
The woman wrung her hands nervously, understanding perfectly well what her husband meant. “Just… be careful,” she whispered.
Maes didn’t answer this time. He simply caressed Elysia’s cheek affectionately, a small smile tugging on his lips; a smile that this time didn’t reach his eyes to chase away the darkness reflected within them.
“Daddy will have to work late tonight, sweetheart,” he said in a soft tone, leaning down to place a small kiss on the girl’s forehead. “Goodnight.”
He only cast a reassuring glance at Gracia’s direction before he walked out the door.
He was in the dark again. She left a bit more than a quarter of an hour ago, after making sure she gave him his usual meagre rations in food and water. As she said, it was his reward for co-operating this time.
Syndow sighed. It was against his gentlemanly contact to betray another man’s trust in him, but he was certain that that Dante person already knew a lot more than she let on. Even if he hadn’t said anything, she would have taken his silence as more than enough answer to the questions she asked him, thus making his discretion pointless.
Nevertheless, he refused to translate the Gondorian’s journal for her. He didn’t know how she acquired it, but he was more than certain that it was through devious means. And whatever it was that she was hoping she’d find in there, he wasn’t going to help her find it.
Still… this journal provided an account of a man whose life began 6,000 years ago in another world. That man’s life was so different back then, resembling the tales Syndow had spent almost half a life-time to gather. And it was enriched with so much wondrous detail that it made the professor imagine how the world was back then, even feel like he was there. More importantly, it was filled with the emotions of this man, this Gondorian. All his fears, all his beliefs and even his impressions of this world and life he was currently leading were put into words of such sheer beauty in their simplicity that it put powerful epics and elegant poems into shame.
It was a journal of a man who lived everything Syndow could only mentally touch through the languages and stories in which he had dedicated his soul. That made Syndow wish to know this man, to understand him and his world better. And perhaps through it all understand this world as well.
Now he had that chance. That was why, under the dim light of that torch that was still on the wall, Syndow worked fervently to translate the journal without being discovered by his captor, trying to quench that thirst his scientific mind was craving.
TBC…
Subtitles
- Brother's Debt
- Fullmetal Body, Fullmetal Heart
- A Quiet Day
- In The Night
- Two Men's Faces
- Transfer
- Making Plans
- Shadows Of The Past
- Underworld
- The Price Of Immortality
- Departure
- The Key
- Enemy Revealed
- A Step Back
- A Step Closer To The Truth
- A Race
- Rush Valley
- Responsibility
- Izumi
- Time To Stand Still
- Wild Child
- Encounter
- Riddles In The Dark
- In Search For Answers
- A Teacher's Mistakes
- Complications
- Visits
- The Nature Of A Homunculus
- Dante Of The Deep Forest
- Kidnapped
- Fight At The Devil's Nest
- Innocence Lost
- Blood Spilt
- Recovering
- Bearers Of Ill News
- The Flame Alchemist
- True Colours
- Markings On The Ground
- The Mission
- Heading To Liore
- Change Of Plans
- The Scar
- Holy Mother
- A Mother's Face
- Final Moments