Chevaliers De Sangreal
“A few days later, William passed away quietly in his sleep. He was worn out after suffering for so long, but there was a small smile clinging on his lips when I found him. It was as if he was set free in those last moments and he had welcomed the next step unafraid.”
“But I digress,” Hohenheim noted, straightening his glasses. “On the very next day, we had the funeral, keeping the ceremony simple, just as William had requested. The only others who attended were the Rockbells, who were sad to see a good man gone.”
“And the boys? Winry?” Beregond asked, listening intently to the story.
“Al was too young, and Winry didn’t really understand what was going on; she couldn’t. But Edward…” Hohenheim sighed. “I still remember him crying in his mother’s embrace, saying that he didn’t want William to leave, then screaming on the top of his lungs and asking his uncle to wake up. And the worst was yet to come. In the days that followed, Edward refused to eat or play with Alphonse. He even became violent when someone tried to talk to him, accusing them that they took William away from him.”
Beregond saddened at that, understanding what that loss must have meant to the boy – the first out of many in Edward’s life. Still, there was something that bothered the Gondorian.
“Edward doesn’t seem to remember any of that,” he said.
Hohenheim nodded. “I’m not surprised. Time has a way of healing a young boy’s heart – even if it means offering him oblivion.”
“Or sending him more problems along the way,” Beregond pointed out wryly.
The bespectacled man’s expression became wistful; he clearly understood what the Gondorian told him.
“I didn’t want this,” he said. “I intended to keep William’s promise, and that was why I started researching for a way to fix my problem. But, after two years, I came up with nothing, and my skin only kept rotting further on.”
“So you left.”
“Please, don’t judge me,” Hohenheim said. “I was still hoping I’d be able to find the answers I had been looking for elsewhere. Xing, especially, is advanced in medical alchemy, so there was a chance I could find a way to heal myself there.”
“Is that where you went?” Beregond asked.
“At first,” Hohenheim replied. “Then I went to Creta, and then I travelled to Drachma, but I didn’t find anything there either.”
Beregond frowned. “There was a cottage at the Drachmanian borders. A woman by the name of Shaughnessy told the boys and me that you lived there for a time.”
“I did,” Hohenheim said, “Although I’m surprised that my sons would want to go so up north.”
“In a way, they’re in the same quest as you,” Beregond said. “They have been for the last six years.”
“I see,” Hohenheim said. He pursed his lips momentarily in thought. “Mr. Beregond, can you please tell me your side of the story? And how did you end up with my sons?”
“If you have the patience for it,” the Gondorian said.
Hohenheim’s nod was enough as an answer, so Beregond started telling his tale from the beginning.
Neither Pinako nor Ed spoke some time. Ed especially had become particularly quiet from the moment the old woman finished her tale, and Pinako didn’t know what to think of that reaction.
“Ed?” she asked softly.
The teen alchemist didn’t answer, not at once anyway. He just smiled wanly, and stared down at his automail. “It’s ironic,” he murmured.
Pinako blinked, not really understanding the statement.
“Winry once said that Beregond cared about us like some sort of uncle,” Ed explained. “I guess she pretty much hit the nail on the head there.”
“Yes, I suppose she did,” Pinako replied softly. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before,” she added.
Ed, however, waved his hand dismissively. “You did it for my sake. There would be no point in bringing back bad memories,” he said. “That was probably what mom must have thought too.”
Pinako nodded, then looked at the boy closely. “Are you alright?”
“I’m fine,” Ed said, though there was a dry, mirthless tone in his answer. “I just wish it didn’t feel like I stole another kid’s dad so I could have an uncle in place of the one who died.”
“What are you talking about?” Pinako asked, stared at Ed incredulously.
“That’s right. You don’t know,” Ed said, his voice barely audible. And with that, he started telling the old woman everything concerning Beregond – his true identity, the circumstances under which he found himself in Amestris, and even what happened to him inside the Gate. Pinako listened intently, and though some of the things the teen alchemist told her sounded too incredible to be true, she accepted them nonetheless; she knew that Ed would never make up a story like that.
“So,” she said, once Ed stopped with his narrative, “Beregond believes that he was sent here for a reason?”
“Yeah,” Ed answered, “That’s why he stayed with us all this time.”
A ghost of a smile appeared on Pinako’s lips. “It looks to me that he wants to see you back to your original bodies just as bad as you and Al do,” she noted. “But what will be left to him then?”
Ed gasped. “What do you mean?”
“Isn’t it obvious enough?” the old woman said. “His whole life here is determined by one purpose; to help you. But what will happen if your quest comes to an end, and you restore your bodies? Where is he to go from there?”
The boy’s eyes widened; it was clear that Ed hadn’t thought of that option. He remained silent, trying to figure out the best answer to that question, until he finally made up his mind.
“He will stay with me and Al.”
“Are you sure about this, Ed?” Pinako asked. “There will come a time that you won’t need him.”
Ed smiled at that. “Aunt Pinako … would there ever be a time that we wouldn’t need mom, had she been alive?”
It was then that Pinako understood. Ed didn’t regard Beregond as a companion anymore, or even as simply a friend. No. Ed’s emotions for the Gondorian ran deeper than that; almost as deep as his emotions for his brother.
Ed saw in Beregond a family.
Al and Winry still remained seated at the top of the stairs, barely moving. They had heard Ed and Pinako’s talk, and they could only look at each other in mild confusion when the living room had grown quiet once more.
“I had no idea,” Al murmured, his eyes flickering. “Ed mentioned that he remembered someone who looked just like Beregond, but I never thought that it would be something like this.”
“That makes two of us,” Winry said thoughtfully. “I’m sorry, Al.”
Al, however, just shrugged. “It’s okay. I can’t miss what I didn’t know I had,” he said. “But still, I can’t help thinking that Beregond’s presence here is more than just coincidence or an accident after all.”
“Why is that?” the girl asked.
“Beregond had said that the Amestrians and the Gondorians share common ancestors,” Al said. “What if Brother, Beregond and I share a common ancestor, too?”
“So you think you three are actually related?”
Al nodded. “It makes sense, doesn’t it? Brother and I used our blood in order to recover mum’s soul. But… we weren’t able to find her inside the gate.”
“But you found Beregond.”
“Exactly. Maybe our blood connection guided us to him,” Al said.
“And so, you got someone in place of your mom, when he got two boys to regard as his sons,” Winry pointed out with a smile.
Al chuckled embarrassedly. “I wouldn’t know about that,” he said, scratching the back of his head. “I mean, he does care about us a lot, but--”
“I do know,” the girl said, clasping of Al’s gauntlets in her hands. “I see it in his eyes.”
“Really?” Al asked.
Winry hummed her affirmation. “I’m not surprised that you haven’t noticed it. You haven’t even seen what’s in my eyes when I look at you.”
Al’s eyes grew bigger in surprise. “Winry?”
Winry simply brought herself closer, her forehead pressing Al’s and her nose nuzzling his face plate.
“I want to see your face again, Al,” she whispered, and her fingers caressed his metal jaw. It was a touch that Al couldn’t feel, but the suit of armour knew only too well what it meant. And Al knew that, if he had a heart, it would have skipped a beat right there and then. His own fingers reached for the girl’s face, but she stepped back before he could touch her. She headed towards her room without another word.
It was then that Al realised that he had been missing more than just his body – and it filled his soul with unprecedented pain.
Hohenheim removed his glasses for a moment and rubbed his eyes tiredly. Beregond didn’t say anything, but he somehow knew that the other was trying to hide a tear that threatened to trickle down his face.
“I should have been with them,” he said softly.
Beregond smiled in a wry manner. “It’s easy to say what should have been done,” he pointed out. “But the truth of the matter is that you can’t change the past. All you can do is decide what must be done now.”
Hohenheim considered Beregond’s words carefully, and he put his glasses back on. “Of course. Forgive my display.”
The Gondorian waved his hand dismissively, showing in this way that there was no harm done. But there was obviously something that set Hohenheim thinking, for he regarded Beregond closely.
“You said that your gods brought you to this world so that you could live the remainder of your days here.”
“I did,” Beregond answered.
“Have you ever wondered why you met Edward and Alphonse in particular?”
The Gondorian blinked. “Do you mean why I had to awake in Amestris at the present day and not some other time and place?”
“Not exactly,” Hohenheim replied, smiling a bit. “What I’m asking is: did you ever consider your meeting with Edward and Alphonse as more than mere chance?”
Beregond clenched his jaw in thought. He had to admit that he hadn’t thought of that, and it must have been evident in his eyes as well, for Hohenheim continued on.
“I know something about the history of the names too,” he said. “William means ‘Will to protect’, and Brice means ‘Stone’.”
Beregond flinched, eyes widening ten fold. “But my name also means…!” he exclaimed, but his voice died in his throat; the realisation was too shocking.
“Yes,” Hohenheim said with a nod. “It seems your gods knew exactly what they were doing. Who knows… perhaps they even acted out of pity for my sons’ predicament. I certainly hope they did.”
Beregond swallowed hard and leaned against the rail, suddenly feeling quite overwhelmed. Even so, Hohenheim was far from done.
“Because it would mean Ed and Al couldn’t be left in better hands.”
Beregond stared at Hohenheim, trying to understand what the man was telling him. But Hohenheim simply dug out form the inner pocket of his overcoat a small journal and handed it to the Gondorian.
“This is my diary. It contains all you need to know about Dante, so use it wisely.”
Beregond felt like his jaw would drop on the ground. “Why are you doing this?” he asked, confused.
“Because someone has to stop her,” Hohenheim replied with a weak smile, and he patted the man on the shoulder. “I leave everything into your care now.”
With that, the bespectacled man turned on his heel and walked away, letting the grey mist of pre-dawn swallow him whole. All Beregond could do was watch him go, his hands holding the diary tightly.
TBC…
“But I digress,” Hohenheim noted, straightening his glasses. “On the very next day, we had the funeral, keeping the ceremony simple, just as William had requested. The only others who attended were the Rockbells, who were sad to see a good man gone.”
“And the boys? Winry?” Beregond asked, listening intently to the story.
“Al was too young, and Winry didn’t really understand what was going on; she couldn’t. But Edward…” Hohenheim sighed. “I still remember him crying in his mother’s embrace, saying that he didn’t want William to leave, then screaming on the top of his lungs and asking his uncle to wake up. And the worst was yet to come. In the days that followed, Edward refused to eat or play with Alphonse. He even became violent when someone tried to talk to him, accusing them that they took William away from him.”
Beregond saddened at that, understanding what that loss must have meant to the boy – the first out of many in Edward’s life. Still, there was something that bothered the Gondorian.
“Edward doesn’t seem to remember any of that,” he said.
Hohenheim nodded. “I’m not surprised. Time has a way of healing a young boy’s heart – even if it means offering him oblivion.”
“Or sending him more problems along the way,” Beregond pointed out wryly.
The bespectacled man’s expression became wistful; he clearly understood what the Gondorian told him.
“I didn’t want this,” he said. “I intended to keep William’s promise, and that was why I started researching for a way to fix my problem. But, after two years, I came up with nothing, and my skin only kept rotting further on.”
“So you left.”
“Please, don’t judge me,” Hohenheim said. “I was still hoping I’d be able to find the answers I had been looking for elsewhere. Xing, especially, is advanced in medical alchemy, so there was a chance I could find a way to heal myself there.”
“Is that where you went?” Beregond asked.
“At first,” Hohenheim replied. “Then I went to Creta, and then I travelled to Drachma, but I didn’t find anything there either.”
Beregond frowned. “There was a cottage at the Drachmanian borders. A woman by the name of Shaughnessy told the boys and me that you lived there for a time.”
“I did,” Hohenheim said, “Although I’m surprised that my sons would want to go so up north.”
“In a way, they’re in the same quest as you,” Beregond said. “They have been for the last six years.”
“I see,” Hohenheim said. He pursed his lips momentarily in thought. “Mr. Beregond, can you please tell me your side of the story? And how did you end up with my sons?”
“If you have the patience for it,” the Gondorian said.
Hohenheim’s nod was enough as an answer, so Beregond started telling his tale from the beginning.
Neither Pinako nor Ed spoke some time. Ed especially had become particularly quiet from the moment the old woman finished her tale, and Pinako didn’t know what to think of that reaction.
“Ed?” she asked softly.
The teen alchemist didn’t answer, not at once anyway. He just smiled wanly, and stared down at his automail. “It’s ironic,” he murmured.
Pinako blinked, not really understanding the statement.
“Winry once said that Beregond cared about us like some sort of uncle,” Ed explained. “I guess she pretty much hit the nail on the head there.”
“Yes, I suppose she did,” Pinako replied softly. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before,” she added.
Ed, however, waved his hand dismissively. “You did it for my sake. There would be no point in bringing back bad memories,” he said. “That was probably what mom must have thought too.”
Pinako nodded, then looked at the boy closely. “Are you alright?”
“I’m fine,” Ed said, though there was a dry, mirthless tone in his answer. “I just wish it didn’t feel like I stole another kid’s dad so I could have an uncle in place of the one who died.”
“What are you talking about?” Pinako asked, stared at Ed incredulously.
“That’s right. You don’t know,” Ed said, his voice barely audible. And with that, he started telling the old woman everything concerning Beregond – his true identity, the circumstances under which he found himself in Amestris, and even what happened to him inside the Gate. Pinako listened intently, and though some of the things the teen alchemist told her sounded too incredible to be true, she accepted them nonetheless; she knew that Ed would never make up a story like that.
“So,” she said, once Ed stopped with his narrative, “Beregond believes that he was sent here for a reason?”
“Yeah,” Ed answered, “That’s why he stayed with us all this time.”
A ghost of a smile appeared on Pinako’s lips. “It looks to me that he wants to see you back to your original bodies just as bad as you and Al do,” she noted. “But what will be left to him then?”
Ed gasped. “What do you mean?”
“Isn’t it obvious enough?” the old woman said. “His whole life here is determined by one purpose; to help you. But what will happen if your quest comes to an end, and you restore your bodies? Where is he to go from there?”
The boy’s eyes widened; it was clear that Ed hadn’t thought of that option. He remained silent, trying to figure out the best answer to that question, until he finally made up his mind.
“He will stay with me and Al.”
“Are you sure about this, Ed?” Pinako asked. “There will come a time that you won’t need him.”
Ed smiled at that. “Aunt Pinako … would there ever be a time that we wouldn’t need mom, had she been alive?”
It was then that Pinako understood. Ed didn’t regard Beregond as a companion anymore, or even as simply a friend. No. Ed’s emotions for the Gondorian ran deeper than that; almost as deep as his emotions for his brother.
Ed saw in Beregond a family.
Al and Winry still remained seated at the top of the stairs, barely moving. They had heard Ed and Pinako’s talk, and they could only look at each other in mild confusion when the living room had grown quiet once more.
“I had no idea,” Al murmured, his eyes flickering. “Ed mentioned that he remembered someone who looked just like Beregond, but I never thought that it would be something like this.”
“That makes two of us,” Winry said thoughtfully. “I’m sorry, Al.”
Al, however, just shrugged. “It’s okay. I can’t miss what I didn’t know I had,” he said. “But still, I can’t help thinking that Beregond’s presence here is more than just coincidence or an accident after all.”
“Why is that?” the girl asked.
“Beregond had said that the Amestrians and the Gondorians share common ancestors,” Al said. “What if Brother, Beregond and I share a common ancestor, too?”
“So you think you three are actually related?”
Al nodded. “It makes sense, doesn’t it? Brother and I used our blood in order to recover mum’s soul. But… we weren’t able to find her inside the gate.”
“But you found Beregond.”
“Exactly. Maybe our blood connection guided us to him,” Al said.
“And so, you got someone in place of your mom, when he got two boys to regard as his sons,” Winry pointed out with a smile.
Al chuckled embarrassedly. “I wouldn’t know about that,” he said, scratching the back of his head. “I mean, he does care about us a lot, but--”
“I do know,” the girl said, clasping of Al’s gauntlets in her hands. “I see it in his eyes.”
“Really?” Al asked.
Winry hummed her affirmation. “I’m not surprised that you haven’t noticed it. You haven’t even seen what’s in my eyes when I look at you.”
Al’s eyes grew bigger in surprise. “Winry?”
Winry simply brought herself closer, her forehead pressing Al’s and her nose nuzzling his face plate.
“I want to see your face again, Al,” she whispered, and her fingers caressed his metal jaw. It was a touch that Al couldn’t feel, but the suit of armour knew only too well what it meant. And Al knew that, if he had a heart, it would have skipped a beat right there and then. His own fingers reached for the girl’s face, but she stepped back before he could touch her. She headed towards her room without another word.
It was then that Al realised that he had been missing more than just his body – and it filled his soul with unprecedented pain.
Hohenheim removed his glasses for a moment and rubbed his eyes tiredly. Beregond didn’t say anything, but he somehow knew that the other was trying to hide a tear that threatened to trickle down his face.
“I should have been with them,” he said softly.
Beregond smiled in a wry manner. “It’s easy to say what should have been done,” he pointed out. “But the truth of the matter is that you can’t change the past. All you can do is decide what must be done now.”
Hohenheim considered Beregond’s words carefully, and he put his glasses back on. “Of course. Forgive my display.”
The Gondorian waved his hand dismissively, showing in this way that there was no harm done. But there was obviously something that set Hohenheim thinking, for he regarded Beregond closely.
“You said that your gods brought you to this world so that you could live the remainder of your days here.”
“I did,” Beregond answered.
“Have you ever wondered why you met Edward and Alphonse in particular?”
The Gondorian blinked. “Do you mean why I had to awake in Amestris at the present day and not some other time and place?”
“Not exactly,” Hohenheim replied, smiling a bit. “What I’m asking is: did you ever consider your meeting with Edward and Alphonse as more than mere chance?”
Beregond clenched his jaw in thought. He had to admit that he hadn’t thought of that, and it must have been evident in his eyes as well, for Hohenheim continued on.
“I know something about the history of the names too,” he said. “William means ‘Will to protect’, and Brice means ‘Stone’.”
Beregond flinched, eyes widening ten fold. “But my name also means…!” he exclaimed, but his voice died in his throat; the realisation was too shocking.
“Yes,” Hohenheim said with a nod. “It seems your gods knew exactly what they were doing. Who knows… perhaps they even acted out of pity for my sons’ predicament. I certainly hope they did.”
Beregond swallowed hard and leaned against the rail, suddenly feeling quite overwhelmed. Even so, Hohenheim was far from done.
“Because it would mean Ed and Al couldn’t be left in better hands.”
Beregond stared at Hohenheim, trying to understand what the man was telling him. But Hohenheim simply dug out form the inner pocket of his overcoat a small journal and handed it to the Gondorian.
“This is my diary. It contains all you need to know about Dante, so use it wisely.”
Beregond felt like his jaw would drop on the ground. “Why are you doing this?” he asked, confused.
“Because someone has to stop her,” Hohenheim replied with a weak smile, and he patted the man on the shoulder. “I leave everything into your care now.”
With that, the bespectacled man turned on his heel and walked away, letting the grey mist of pre-dawn swallow him whole. All Beregond could do was watch him go, his hands holding the diary tightly.
TBC…
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