Hagane no Renkinjutsushi - Volume 1 - Chapter 2

SILVER EYES

THE FOLLOWING MORNING, Edward opened his eyes to a view of the underside of the eaves of Belsio’s house, located on the outskirts of town. The sun was already high in the sky, its light harsh to his bleary eyes. As he sat up, sand trickled down the sides of his face.

“Sleep outside in a place like this and you’re bound to wake up with sand in your hair.” Belsio’s voice emanated from the front of the house. He was seated working on a tool of some kind. Next to him, Alphonse was oiling the wheels of a mining cart.

“Morning, Ed. You’ve got little sand-cakes on your cheeks.”

Edward groaned and brushed the sand off his face. His head was pounding from the beating it had taken the night before.

Belsio laughed. “I said you could sleep in the house, but you wouldn’t listen.”

“If people in town heard you’d taken us in, what would they say?”

“Don’t know. I was just in town, and no one seemed to care.”

Edward gave him a puzzled look.

“Never mind,” Belsio continued, waving his hand dismissively. “Your brother fetched some water in that basin over there. Go wash yourself off. Take care to clean your eyes out good. A lot of folks in town don’t see too well anymore on account of all the sand.”

Edward thanked him, stood up, and dusted himself off. “A wash sounds good right about now.” He located the oil drum filled with water toward the back of the house.

Edward patted his growling stomach. “I could go for a bite to eat, too!” He considered Lemac’s tavern, but the chances of getting thrown out seemed pretty high. “We missed dinner last night …”

Edward’s stomach growled as he brushed the sand off his body. A sudden sharp pain made him stop abruptly. Lifting his shirt, he discovered he was covered with black and blue welts. He hadn’t noticed them before, but now that he had, he realized he was aching all over. “That jerk didn’t hold back, did he?”

Of course, neither had Edward—but knowing that the impostor must be hurting just as much as him did little to ease Edward’s pain. The things that guy had said! He had really tried to get under Edward’s skin. And it made Edward even madder that he had succeeded and made him lose his cool. Not to mention that, even though they were the same age, the impostor was at least a head taller.

“He was lying about his age! I know it!” Edward insisted, sounding more hopeful than confident. “Let’s see … I grow about two inches a year … And we were about eight inches apart … So … Four years? That would make him nineteen!” Edward proclaimed, heedless of the possibility that he might not grow two inches next year. Somewhere along the way he had progressed from estimating Russell’s age to imagining himself at age nineteen: tall, handsome … 

“Nineteen!” Edward crowed, turning to Alphonse with a big grin.

“Um, Ed? What’s up? You’re kind of smirking …”

“Huh? N-nothing.” Edward let his hair fall over his face to hide his expression. He wanted to give a little thumbs up and shout, Me at nineteen! Eat your heart out! But Alphonse would just frown at him, and that would be the end of that.

Edward turned around to find himself eye-to-eye with Elisa, the girl from the day before.

“Hey! It’s the bandit brothers!”

“Oh, hi. You’re Lemac’s daughter, right?”

“Yep. I’m Elisa!”

She smiled as though she’d completely forgotten yesterday’s events.

“Elisa’s just come up from town,” Belsio said. “She tells me Lemac invited you down for lunch.”

“Thanks, but I don’t care to be called a liar again.”

“You’re still pretending to be the Elric brothers?” Elisa put her hands on her hips and pouted. “Lying is wrong, you know!”

“We’re not lying!”

“Papa says you want to get into the alchemy lab real bad. He says it’s funny. He says you must really be excited about alchemy to go that far!”

Edward laughed bitterly. Apparently there was no use trying to convince Elisa of the truth. “Well, why not. We have to eat.”

“Okay, but no more lying!” Elisa ran off after Belsio.

“You’re not coming back with us, Elisa?” Alphonse called out behind her. She showed no sign of slowing down.

“I’m helping Mr. Belsio today!” she shouted back over her shoulder.

The two watched Elisa and Belsio head off toward his garden before turning and setting out for town.

Along the way, the people they passed shot them glances and laughed. A few even warned them to knock off the tomfoolery and cut the crap. Apparently, word of their humiliation had reached town. Still, at least they weren’t being treated like outlaws. Everyone seemed to have just written them off as mischievous kids. When they reached town, Alphonse went off to have a look around while Edward headed for the tavern.

Yesterday a newcomer, today a laughingstock.

Edward plodded into Lemac’s place with a scowl on his face.

“There you are. Hungry?” Lemac greeted him with a look of great condescension, but cheerfully went in back to prepare him breakfast.

“So,” called Lemac from the kitchen. “I hear you tried to sneak into Mr. Mugear’s place last night.”

He doesn’t waste any time, does he?

“Yeah, that’s right. How’d you know?”

Lemac laughed. “You must have really been itching to see that lab. Posing as alchemists, raiding the Mugear mansion … I’ve got to admit, I’m impressed!”

Edward sighed. The misunderstandings were running so deep, it didn’t seem worth defending himself anymore.

“You’ve got a lot of determination for a kid, but you really ought to think about directing your energy in a more positive direction. If you want to become a great alchemist, why don’t you try to join the State Alchemists, like Master Edward?”

“ ‘Like Master Edward’ … ” Edward muttered. Why hasn’t anyone ever called me “master”?

“People figure all the talk about the Philosopher’s Stone went to your head.”

“True enough.”

“So why don’t you just give up your little act and be straight with us? Tell us your real name.”

Edward lacked the will to shout I told you my real name! At the same time, he didn’t want to take the easy way out and make something up.

“Edward,” he said quietly. “And my brother is Alphonse. It’s the truth.”

Lemac frowned. He seemed deep in thought.

“It’s true!” Edward insisted.

Lemac took on a look of resignation as he filled Edward’s coffee cup. “I guess sometimes people have the same names.” Apparently he was finally willing to give the brothers the benefit of the doubt. Or, perhaps, half the benefit of the doubt. “Still, to keep from confusing you with Master Edward and his brother, I’ll just call you Ed and Al, okay?”

“Fine.”

“And no more playing at bandits!”

Edward’s heart sank in his chest. Still, this was better than being called a liar and getting tossed out on the street. He decided the time had come for him to keep his head down and focus on finding out everything he could about this so-called “Stone.”

“So everyone’s convinced they’ll be able to create a real Philosopher’s Stone?”

Lemac shrugged and began drying cups. “Some things you just have to believe in order to keep going, you know?”

Edward knew what he meant so well it hurt. There was no guarantee that the Stone would get his brother’s body back, but he couldn’t give up hope. “Isn’t it hard living here in the meantime?” Edward asked.

“Sure, it’s hard. Some people leave. But a lot of us want a chance to use our skills again to work gold.”

“But if you have enough money to loan some to Mugear, couldn’t you use it to move and find a mine somewhere else?”

“Well, we couldn’t just do that. Mr. Mugear’s helped us out so much.”

“But he bought all the rights to the mine, didn’t he? And that killed off all the crops … ”

Lemac said nothing.

“Isn’t that Mugear’s fault?”

Lemac sighed and sat down across from Edward. “Some might say that, but that’s not the way it is to my mind. At least, it’s not all Mr. Mugear’s fault. Sure, we all meant to buy the rights to the mine together, but, truth be told, we were short on cash. And we were reluctant to sell our farmland to come up with the money. So Mr. Mugear put up his own money to make the purchase. And yes, some of the fields near the mine went bad from the dust, but everyone’s lives improved. Some people might regret losing our green fields and orchards, but most of us were happy enough with the wealth we got in return. And once one person made it, everyone else wanted to get in on the act. That’s why we all learned goldsmithing so fast. Now, none of us can forget those golden days. That’s why we stay. For the love of gold.”

Lost in memories, Lemac’s eyes took on a faraway look. Edward wondered whether he was picturing the days of the gold rush or the green fields from before. One thing was clear: the town and the townspeople lacked their former spirit.

“Sounds like you’re living in the past.”

To his surprise, Lemac nodded in agreement. “We all have doubts somewhere in our hearts. But none of us who touched gold can forget what it was like—Mr. Mugear least of all. We want that glory back. We can’t change our ways.”

“Not even you, Mr. Lemac?”

“I guess not. Now that I’ve lived a life of luxury, I can’t help but want that for Elisa. And I need to take care of my wife. She’s in a hospital off in the countryside.”

“Your wife?”

“Yeah. You think I could have built up a business like this with my rotten cooking? I’m here because I have to be, but this was my wife’s place. The dust from the mines got to her, though, and she had to leave. Me, I’m just carrying on until I can find some other way to make a living. It’s a darn shame, really.” He seemed resigned to his fate.

A town caught tight in the chains of its past. Chains of gold … 

Edward sighed and paid for his meal.

WHILE EDWARD WAS TALKING with Lemac, Alphonse was making his way to the town’s pharmacy in hopes of finding some bandages and liniment for Edward’s bruises. The townspeople laughed when they saw him, but he was grateful they weren’t hostile.

“Hello!” he said, ducking into the pharmacy. An older woman peered out at him from between bottles lined up on a shelf.

“Ah, one of those kids everyone’s been talking about. You’ve sure been causing a ruckus.”

What a greeting, thought Alphonse, but he couldn’t bring himself to defend having trespassed at the mansion. He decided to let the matter drop. He was a customer here, after all.

“Do you have anything that’s good for, um, bruises?”

“I’ve just the thing,” the woman said, perking up. “Let me mix you up a batch.” She pointed to a chair in the corner. “Have a seat over there—if you can sit in that armor of yours.”

“I’ll just stand, thanks. Don’t mind me.”

Alphonse stood patiently in the middle of the pharmacy while the lady brought various bottles into a back room to formulate a salve. Suddenly, the door to the pharmacy opened.

“Hello?”

It was Fletcher. When he saw Alphonse standing next to the entrance, he stopped dead in his tracks. He looks nervous, Alphonse thought. Understandably! He’s stolen my name, and the last time we met, our brothers were trying to kill each other!

The pharmacist hadn’t noticed her latest customer yet.

He’s probably scared I’m going to reveal he’s a fraud … or maybe he thinks I already have.

After standing in silence for a few moments, Fletcher quietly turned and began to walk out of the store. But then the pharmacist caught sight of him.

“Oh, Master Alphonse! Did you need something?”

“Um … ” Fletcher’s voice trembled, even though the pharmacist’s greeting must have assured him that his disguise hadn’t been uncovered.

Uncovered or not, your guilty conscience won’t let you rest, will it? Still, Alphonse didn’t resent the boy for not confessing. In fact, he almost sympathized with him because he seemed so obviously guilt ridden.

The pharmacist stood smiling at them, utterly unaware of what was running through the two boys’ heads. “Master Alphonse, please don’t be angry at these boys. They only pretended to be you because they idolize Master Edward’s talent so.”

She thinks he’s nervous because I’m “pretending” to be him!

“Don’t worry, we’ve told them not to bother you anymore. Now, what can I get you, Master Alphonse?”

Fletcher appeared on the verge of tears. He hesitated between Alphonse and the pharmacist, unable to decide what to do or say.

“Uh, um … I came for some medicine,” he managed to squeeze out at last. “Something for bruises. My brother bumped himself …” His voice trailed off until it was barely a whisper.

“So!” the pharmacist exclaimed, glaring at Alphonse. “Was that salve you wanted for treating bruises your brother incurred from fighting Master Edward last night, by any chance?”

Alphonse gulped. Her eyes burned into him … but at least she was still mixing the salve. She’d probably sell it to him regardless of his answer, but not without scolding him first, just like his brother always did.

Before she could continue, Fletcher took a step forward. “Um, actually, my brother’s bruise wasn’t from fighting. He just fell down. It has nothing to do with the two, um, impostors.”

“Well, that stands to reason,” the pharmacist said. “I didn’t think a small boy like that could hurt your brother.” She handed a bottle to Alphonse. “There you go. Thanks for waiting. Soak a bandage in that and put it on the bruise. And tell your brother to behave himself! Master Edward is the forgiving sort, and the townspeople have laughed this whole affair off as a silly kid’s prank for now, but if you don’t stay out of trouble …”

Alphonse took the bottle and nodded his thanks.

The pharmacist picked up another bottle and gave it to Fletcher. “And here’s Master Edward’s salve and some powdered syrup to drink. Just dissolve it in warm water. No, no … there’s no need to pay.”

“That’s all right, I’ll pay. Thank you, ma’am.” Fletcher paid the full amount against the pharmacist’s protests and walked out into the street beside Alphonse.

Several paces from the pharmacy, Fletcher stopped abruptly. “I’m sorry,” he said, in a voice so full of pain that Alphonse stopped short. Fletcher’s shoulders were trembling.

“If you’re so sorry, why don’t you just tell them the truth?” Wouldn’t it be better to just get it off his chest?

“I’m sorry. I never dreamed you two would come here, to this town. I’m sorry the townspeople got mad at you because of us.”

“So you never thought about what would happen if you ran into the real Elric brothers, huh?”

Fletcher nodded sadly. “I know what we’re doing isn’t right.”

“But you’re still doing it anyway! That makes it even worse!”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

Alphonse could tell from watching Fletcher now and last night that living a lie was hard for him. His older brother, Russell, had a face that revealed little, and he had been so busy picking on Edward that he had given no indication of his feelings on the matter, but Fletcher was different. Every move he made revealed his inner turmoil.

“You disagree with your brother, don’t you?”

Fletcher sighed, unable to answer. He was tired of all the lying.

“If you can apologize to me, why can’t you just tell your brother how you feel? It’s cowardly not to confront him.”

“I know it is, but …” Fletcher’s head drooped. “If I turn against him, he won’t have anyone. He’ll be all alone.”

Alphonse didn’t know what to say.

“There’ll be no one left on his side! I mean, it’s probably our fault because of all the lies, but we’re on our own. What would he do if I left him here?”

“He could leave with you!”

Fletcher shook his head. “If that was all it took, I would have confronted him before all the lying started.” A black spot appeared on the ground at the boy’s feet. A tear, quickly swallowed by the dusty soil. “I can’t leave—not by myself. I have to stick by my brother.” Fletcher wiped the tears from his eyes with the back of his hand. “I can’t believe I’m telling you this. You’re the victim here, and I’m the one who’s crying. I must be nuts.”

“If I felt all on my own, living a lie every day, I’d lose it too.” Alphonse didn’t think Fletcher deserved his sympathy, but it was hard to be cold to him. “I know how you feel,” Alphonse said kindly. “I’m a younger brother too. I know you feel like you’ve got to do what he says, be loyal, and not question him. But there are some things in life that are more important than that.”

Alphonse put his hand on Fletcher’s shoulder. “If you two are all alone in the world, that means if your brother’s doing something wrong, you’re the only one who can stop him—even if you have to fight with him. If you don’t, who will? If you can’t pull him back by yourself, then you’ll have to ask for help, but somehow, you’ve got to stop him before he goes too far! You can’t just hope this will blow over by itself, and you can’t rely on someone else to take care of it for you.”

Fletcher remained silent.

“That’s just my opinion, of course,” mumbled Alphonse, suddenly self-conscious. He knew he was right, but he was afraid he had been too harsh.

Fletcher stared at the ground for a while, then raised his eyes to Alphonse. “You must get along well with your brother.”

Fletcher’s face seemed a little brighter than before, underneath the streaks his tears had left on his cheeks. Although he hadn’t really acknowledged Alphonse’s words, Alphonse was glad that Fletcher had cheered up a little at least. A few minutes ago, Alphonse thought he was going to collapse on the spot.

“We get along all right, but that doesn’t mean we don’t fight,” Alphonse told him, trying to sound encouraging.

“Really? Actually, my brother and I haven’t fought in a while. You know, he didn’t tell Mr. Mugear that he lost to your brother last night. He tries to act all cool, but really he’s a sore loser. He’d never tell anyone if he got hurt in a fight or had trouble with his research. He pretends he doesn’t care. But I’ve seen his face when he thinks no one is watching. That’s why I’ve got to buy his medicine for him.”

The boys caught each other’s eye and laughed. Fletcher pulled one of the packets of powdered syrup out of his bag and handed it to Alphonse. “This is supposed to be good to drink when you use the salve. It really works.” He placed the packet in Alphonse’s hand.

“I can’t … ” Alphonse began.

“It’s a fair trade … ”

Leaving Alphonse to ponder his words, Fletcher turned and walked away down the street.

“WHAT’S THAT supposed to mean? His syrup is supposed to pay for using our identities?” Edward waved the packet of powder under his brother’s nose. They were standing outside Lemac’s tavern.

“Stop waving that around! You’ll spill it!” Alphonse snapped. He got to work applying the bottle of salve to the cloth bandages Lemac had been kind enough to give them. “I don’t think that’s what he meant by ‘fair trade.’ If he did, I wouldn’t have taken the medicine.”

“Then what did he mean?”

“Um … I’m not sure.”

Edward hadn’t been there. How could he explain it to him? They sat down on the bench next to the entrance.

“You’re too nice sometimes, Al. You should have just told the truth, right there in front of the pharmacist. That Fletcher kid needs a good sock in the jaw to straighten him out. I can’t believe he goes around pretending to be you and all he has to say for himself is ‘sorry.’ ”

Edward was snippy, probably because of the sting of the bruises Russell had given him.

Alphonse just shrugged. “She wouldn’t believe me even if I told her we were the real thing. I mean, they look more like us than we do!”

“Huh? What do you mean by that? Just because Russell’s more even-tempered, and smarter, and cooler, and tall—ow!” Edward yelped as Alphonse slapped a wet bandage on his banged-up leg. “Look,” Edward continued, “I’m sure they’ve got their reasons, but so do we. Let’s focus on how we’re going to get what we want.”

“All right.”

They had come for one thing: the Philosopher’s Stone. Or, failing that, information that might lead them to the means of making one themselves.

“Well, at least we’re officially ‘bandits’ now,” muttered Edward. In other words, he was planning to raid the Mugear mansion again. “In any case, I need more info, so we’ll have to stick around town a while longer.”

“You need to rest up, too. And you might as well take that medicine I got.” Alphonse applied more bandages.

Edward looked at him suspiciously. “You really think this stuff works?” he asked, holding the packet up to the light to inspect its contents.

“I’m going to go help Belsio. It’s the least I can do after he took us in. Drink that, okay?” Alphonse scooped up the empty bottle of salve, stood up, and headed off toward the outskirts of town.

Edward sat with the packet of powder in his hand. “What if it makes me all numb or something?” he muttered to himself, frowning.

The truth was, he just didn’t like to take medicine.

THE AIR IN TOWN had been clear that morning, but by evening, the haze of dust blocked visibility beyond a few yards. Belsio stood watching the dust trickle up in streams like smoke off the mounds of rubble near the mine. He turned to Elisa and Alphonse behind him.

“Elisa? Al? That’s enough for today. The wind’s picking up.”

Elisa looked up from where she was diligently clearing rocks, her little hands wrapped tightly in tiny work gloves to protect them from the rough stones. Alphonse was putting up boards to support a half-completed stone fence.

It would be a while before they finished the wall and it could finally serve its purpose to protect the waterway that led to Belsio’s field. Even the sections that had been completed not too long ago were already getting worn down by the constant barrage of wind-blown sand. Those sections had to be shored up, and they had to finish the wall around the reservoir and field as well. It was harder than Alphonse had expected to work out here in the sand. But Belsio had done so much already, and he had done it all by himself.

“Once we finish this, you can make the field bigger. I bet having more greenery here will brighten up the whole town,” Alphonse said. Perhaps he was being a hopeless optimist, but in his heart he felt it was true.

“I think so too,” Elisa said, her eyes sparkling. “Won’t everyone be surprised when they see it? It’ll remind them of how beautiful our town used to be.”

It was just a touch of green in a brown, barren wasteland. But if it spread, how the hearts of the townspeople would soar! Elisa had never known anything but this arid landscape herself, but when she saw the first tree that Belsio had planted, it brought tears to her eyes. That was when she started coming every day to help him.

“I was so surprised,” she told Alphonse. “It was so big and green! When I told my papa, he said the whole town used to be like that!”

Alphonse recalled his own hometown. There had been a lot of rock and sand there too, but at least a little vegetation as well. He had been shocked when he arrived in Xenotime. Compared to the places he knew, this was a desert. “I hope the town becomes green again, Mr. Belsio.”

“I hope so too.”

“We’ll make it happen, Mr. Belsio! I’ll help out until it’s done,” Elisa piped up. “Promise?”

Belsio nodded. “Promise.”

With just one man and a little girl, who knew how long it would take?

“I’ll take you back home,” Belsio told Elisa at last.

Elisa jumped up and surveyed the vegetable garden. “We picked some good vegetables today, didn’t we, Mr. Belsio?”

“The ripest I’ve seen,” Belsio assured her. The basket beside him held three bright red tomatoes. “Thanks to your help, Elisa.”

Elisa giggled. Even Belsio’s stern face softened into a smile. “Come on, let’s go.” Belsio picked the basket up in one hand, and the three walked down towards the town, which was already shrouded in a brown twilight haze.

WHEN THEY ARRIVED at Lemac’s tavern, they found many of the townspeople gathered inside. Edward and Lemac stood near the back, leaning on the counter.

“I’m home!”

Lemac, head drooping, hands folded in front of him, looked up at the sound of his daughter’s voice. A warmth rose to his face. “Welcome back, Elisa.”

Elisa ran to give her father her usual greeting hug, then stopped in her tracks. She was used to everyone greeting her when she came into the tavern, but tonight, no one had said a word.

“Papa, is something wrong?”

“Well … no.” Lemac fell silent.

Alphonse looked at his brother. “What’s going on?”

“They’ve just been discussing the town’s progress … or lack thereof,” he answered, looking glumly around the room. Edward picked up a coffee pot and refilled his own cup. He seemed happy to be in the role of a detached observer.

“Papa, what happened?” Elisa asked, looking from face to face. Belsio handed her the tomatoes from the basket.

“Elisa, could you wash these for me? Be gentle, now.”

Elisa nodded and took the basket back to the well behind the tavern.

“Thanks, friend,” Lemac said softly.

“Don’t mention it. Now what’s going on?”

Belsio sat down next to Lemac and surveyed the silent crowd. Without exception, the faces were carved with deep lines of worry. They looked beaten and worn out.

“Norris left,” Lemac said bitterly.

Belsio seemed surprised. “Really?”

“Yeah. He gave everyone the news at noon. He’s already gone. His son’s not doing too well, he said.”

Norris was one of the most skillful goldsmiths in town. He had been an outspoken supporter of Mugear’s research to develop the Philosopher’s Stone and was the biggest contributor by far. But his two-year-old son had been bedridden since the beginning of the year. The dust had gotten to his lungs.

“I see,” Belsio said. “Sounds like he didn’t have much choice.” Belsio and Norris had often found themselves on the opposite side of debates, with Belsio strongly urging the townspeople to give up their goldsmithing and Norris striving to rouse support for Mugear’s efforts to manufacture the Stone. But they had known each other for a long time, and Belsio was sad to hear he had left. “He was a great goldsmith.”

“Aye, one of the best. Master Mugear was sorry to hear he’d left, too,” Lemac added bitterly. “Of course, that was after we told him the funding for his research would go down now that Norris is gone.”

“I see,” Belsio said. Now the sour faces in the room made even more sense.

When he heard that Norris had left, Mugear came to town and told everyone that it would be difficult to continue the research without their biggest supporter. The town was in a bind. With everyone in such dire straits already, they had nothing left to give. On the other hand, if they stopped funding Mugear’s research, not only would they never get their Philosopher’s Stone, but all the money they had contributed so far would go down the drain.

“Even if we keep supporting him, there’s no guarantee he’ll ever manage to make the Stone! So why don’t we cut our losses now?” demanded one of the townsfolk.

“What about all the money we’ve spent so far?” asked another. “I have faith he’ll succeed!”

“Fine! If you believe in him, give him your money!”

“But that means the rest of us will have to give more!”

“Don’t you want to get this town back on its feet? We were the best goldsmiths anywhere! Are we just going to let our gift die with us?”

“All I’m saying is we can’t live out here in this wasteland on dreams alone!”

Heated exchanges continued to reverberate throughout the tavern. This was only the latest in a series of such scenes. But it seemed the months of pent-up frustration had finally reached the boiling point. The shouting got louder and louder, and no one listened to what anyone else was saying.

“We’re just doing Mugear’s bidding! What’s in it for us?”

“We should have bought the rights to the mine while we still could …”

“Hey, you were just as blinded by the gold as I was!”

“Oh, yeah?!”

“Quiet down, everyone!” Lemac ran out into the middle of the room, waving down the people who were jumping up from their chairs. “Fighting amongst ourselves will only make matters worse!”

“So what do you suggest we do, then?” someone challenged.

Lemac had no answer. He understood both sides—those who wanted to give more money and those who wanted to find another way—and he was torn.

Someone in the crowd piped up, “Hey, Ed … Al … You went to the lab, didn’t you? Well? Did they have the Stone? Are they making any progress?” All eyes turned to Alphonse and Edward.

“Um …” Alphonse stalled, unsure of what to say. “We, uh, didn’t exactly get inside. They chased us off.”

Edward, seated beside him, calmly sipped his coffee. Alphonse realized that his brother wasn’t paying attention to anything going on inside the tavern. He was gazing out the window at something outside … golden hair, waving in the breeze.

“Maybe we should ask Master Edward how they’re coming along?”

“You think he’d tell us? It’s top-secret research …”

Some of the townspeople cradled their heads in their hands. They’d been running on hope too long. Now it was time for the truth.

Then Elisa came back into the tavern, her voice a ray of light in the gloom that filled the room. “Look! Aren’t they beautiful?” She held the tomatoes, still glistening wet, in her hand. They were a vibrant red. “These tomatoes are almost as pretty as goldware, don’t you think, Papa?” Elisa held the tomatoes up high for everyone to see. “I planted the seeds these grew from myself! I thought maybe nobody had seen one of these before, so I brought ’em here to show you!” She wanted to share what she had felt when she first saw the tomatoes shining red in Belsio’s vegetable patch. “Belsio keeps saying he wishes we had a lot more of these around, so we’re growing ’em!” Elisa smiled innocently. “I wonder how long it would take for everyone to grow these!”

Nobody said a word.

Edward was the one to finally break the silence. “Ha! From the mouths of babes …” He set down his coffee cup and picked up one of Elisa’s tomatoes. “It’s got good color.”

“Really?”

“Yep!” He handed the tomato back to Elisa with a smile. “But I think it’ll be a while before anyone else can grow one of these in their yards.”

“Ed …” Alphonse began worriedly. There was no point dashing the child’s hopes. But Elisa smiled.

“That’s okay! We’ve still got lots of rocks to move, and then everyone can grow green things. They might be a little scraggly and yellow at first, but soon there’ll be green plants everywhere! They change color every day, you know. All we hafta do is move all those rocks!”

Just move rocks—it seemed so simple when she said it. Never mind that it would take years, or that the sandy soil might not be able to support any plants. Elisa’s words touched the heart of everyone sitting in the tavern.

“She’s right. If we just clear the land … ”

“Well, Belsio? What do you think? Could we get back some of the green we’ve lost?”

Belsio frowned. “It won’t be easy.” The tavern was silent. “It would take years,” he continued. “And it might not work out in the end. Besides, we’d never be as rich as we were when we were goldsmiths.”

“True. We’re better off counting on Mugear’s research!”

“And digging for that gold mine … ”

“We can’t go back to farming now!”

Edward scowled. “Yeah. Why don’t you just keep on clinging to your dreams of gold, all of you!” His voice was cold. All eyes turned to him, but he was unfazed. “You know that synthesizing gold through alchemy is illegal, don’t you?”

“. . .We know.”

“So what are you going to do if you get caught? Maybe you’re thinking because you used to be a gold-mining town, you can produce a little and no one will notice? Or you’re hoping you’ll find that new gold vein before word gets out?” Edward’s words cut deeply. He was provoking the crowd, but there was nothing they could say. “You’re looking for a gold vein that you might never find, throwing money at a Stone that might never get made, giving up your health … But you still refuse to look for another way to live your lives?”

Lemac spoke softly on behalf of the silent crowd. “You’re young, Ed. You can do anything you want. But we’re too old to start over. We don’t know if we can make it somewhere else. And we have a trade we want to pass on to our children …”

“Fine,” Edward snorted. “Then stay here and wait forever. I don’t care.”

“Well, we know that won’t do, but we’re not sure what to do next. No one can agree on a direction—”

Edward interrupted Lemac’s rationalizations. “Maybe you can’t agree on anything because you haven’t even chosen the path you’re on now! When will the money you’ve donated to Mugear’s research bear fruit? When will you get your money back a hundredfold? This is Mugear’s trap, and you’re stuck in it!”

“You don’t understand. You have your life ahead of you, but we have our past behind us. Once you’ve lived as richly as we have, you can’t settle for less.”

“Maybe you’re right,” Edward said sarcastically. He stood up, walked to the door and opened it to leave—then stopped to address the crowd in the tavern. “Call me crazy, but I could never depend on someone else for my livelihood. I couldn’t live like that.”

Edward closed the door and walked out into the street before turning around. “And you—why don’t you say something?” he growled at Russell, who was standing by the door. “You know I don’t like you much either.”

“I couldn’t care less what you think of me.”

Edward chuckled mischievously. “How about the townspeople? Do you care what they think? Here’s an idea. Why don’t you go in there and tell them you need more cash for your research. Tell them how much you’ve spent on it so far. See what they think of you then.”

Russell grimaced. “It’s … for the town.”

“‘For the town’?”

“You’re just causing trouble here. Why don’t you leave?”

“Me? I’d say it’s you who’s causing the trouble!” Edward retorted. “Say what you will, we’re not going anywhere. In fact, I think we’ll settle in for an extended stay. Sorry, pal.” Edward slapped Russell on the shoulder and sauntered off down the street.

Alphonse quickly caught up to his brother. He glanced back and saw Russell still standing in the street. He hadn’t made a move to open the tavern door.

AT TWO IN THE MORNING, a few hours later than the night before, Edward and Alphonse were back at the wall of the Mugear mansion.

“He won’t be expecting us to come back so soon. I told him we’d be in town for a while,” whispered Edward.

“I hope Russell and Fletcher are asleep.”

Using the same maneuver as the night before, they scaled the wall.

“After that fight last night and the trip into town, he’s got to be asleep by now.”

“Speaking of which, we’ve been through the exact same things. Shouldn’t we be asleep?”

“Hey, I’m tired too. Just hang in there a little longer.”

They dropped down inside the wall and made straight for the laboratory. The mansion grounds were quiet. They saw no sign of the impostors anywhere.

Edward pressed his ear to the laboratory door. “Doesn’t sound like anyone’s home.”

“How are we going to open it? If we make a passageway, the noise and light of the alchemy will give us away!” Alphonse glanced around nervously.

Edward laughed. “With this!” He held out a small key.

“Where did you—?” Alphonse began.

“I took it from Russell’s pocket when we ran into him on the street today!”

Alphonse frowned. “You’re getting worse, Ed … ”

“Getting better, I’d say! Let’s get this open!”

Edward slid in the key and quietly opened the door. They were in.

There was no one inside. A great number of beakers and flasks lined the wall, and a container filled with steam was positioned before a large furnace. The container held a row of flasks filled with some liquid. They were being maintained at a constant temperature.

“Hmm … ” Edward scanned the room. “With a setup like this, you can afford to not watch your samples every minute of the day. I can see why they needed all that money.”

Edward passed his eyes over the stacks of books and papers covered with hastily scrawled notes. Alphonse began looking through the documentation while keeping an eye on the door in case someone should pay them a visit. The two possessed a knowledge of alchemy far surpassing any layperson, so they would be able to gauge the progress of the research simply by scanning the notes and experiments in progress.

“It looks like they’re on the right track, all right,” Edward remarked, putting down one sheaf of files as he looked for the next. Scattered throughout the workplace were strange lumps of materials discarded halfway through some alchemical process, rocks that glowed with a dull light, and pots of various sizes filled with a variety of colored liquids. The mess was testimony to just how seriously Russell was pursuing his research.

He talks like a lightweight, but he knows a fair bit about alchemy, Edward noted. Then he saw something that made him groan. He showed the notebook he had been leafing through to Alphonse. “Look at this, Al. Talk about extreme methods!”

The notebook described in detail a very forceful and dangerous method for making a Stone. The results of the experiment hadn’t been recorded, but from the bloodstains covering the bottom half of the notebook, Edward had a pretty good idea what happened.

“Fletcher must have it rough, trying to look after a brother like that,” Alphonse said sympathetically. When they had met at the pharmacy, Fletcher had mentioned that he was often sent there to obtain medicine. Apparently, Russell got injured a lot—and not just in fights.

“He’s in a real hurry.” Edward gazed at a broken rack for storing chemicals, left where it had splintered apart. “They don’t even take the time to clean up.” He took another long look around the room. “It seems like they’re on the verge of a breakthrough—this must be their sprint to the finish. But they can’t figure out the final step, so they’re trying every experiment in the book … But you know … something’s odd about all this.”

Alphonse held his tongue. He could see Edward was lost in thought and knew better than to disturb him.

“Yeah, there’s definitely something strange going on here. You know, it’s almost as if …”

Muttering on, Edward searched through the file closest to him, then dropped it and picked up the next closest one. Edward had unusual powers of concentration. It was this focus that had earned him the title of State Alchemist at the age of twelve. He had good research instincts, as well.

Alphonse stood by, watching Edward quietly, until he noticed something odd out of the corner of his eye. At first he thought it was a shadow cast by his brother as he moved about the room, but when he looked more closely, he realized it was something altogether different.

“Ed!”

“Huh? What is it?”

It was times like this when Alphonse appreciated his older brother the most. No matter how focused, no matter how dire the circumstances, Edward always gave Alphonse his due. In fact, it was precisely during tense moments like this that he was least likely to shush him or resent an interruption. Sure, he might have snapped at him once or twice a long time ago, when they were still kids, but these days he would never do that. No matter what was going on, Edward always heeded Alphonse’s impressions and opinions—even when the last thing Edward wanted was an interruption.

Alphonse had asked him why he was so obliging once, and Edward had told him simply, “ ’Cause you’re my partner.” Alphonse had never been so surprised or pleased as when he heard those words on a day not long after Edward had become a State Alchemist. Alphonse knew his older brother’s profession was a serious affair, and all he could do was follow along and try not to get in the way. He felt guilty, that he should be doing more himself, but he couldn’t think of what. When his older brother said those words, he finally realized what he could do. He could support his brother as his brother supported him—as an equal.

That day the brothers decided that whatever trials awaited them, they would face them together. They would fight side by side. That day, Alphonse truly became Edward’s partner.

Alphonse pointed at the wall behind Edward. “Doesn’t that seem strange to you?”

Edward turned to look. “What? This wall?”

The wall didn’t appear unusual. It was composed of sandy mortar and was completely nondescript. Edward carefully scanned the surface.

“The color. Isn’t it a little different from the other walls? Or am I just seeing things?” Alphonse studied the surface intently, trying to determine what had caught his attention.

“Aha!” the brothers exclaimed simultaneously.

A thin line stood out on the wall’s surface, barely wider than a hair. Upon closer inspection, they found two parallel lines about an arm’s width apart, both stretching up close to the ceiling. The lines were so thin they would most likely be invisible, but for a wan reddish light that seeped through them, giving a blush of color to the white surface of the wall.

“There’s a room on the other side!” Edward exclaimed. The two exchanged glances, then began to push on the wall. They could feel its weight against their hands.

Noiselessly, the wall tilted inward, creating an entryway into the room beyond.

It was a small room, barely large enough to conduct research in. It was rectangular and lacked even a single window. A lone desk stood in the very center, upon which a candle still flickered, as though someone had been there only a moment before.

And there, on the table, a single glass flask caught their gaze and held it fast. At the bottom of the corked vessel was a tiny amount of liquid.

A red liquid.

“Ed, you don’t think … ?”

“I do. The Crimson Water.” Edward was transfixed.

It wasn’t the Philosopher’s Stone, but it was far from a disappointment. In fact, it was the closest thing to the Stone they’d ever come across. They stood, transfixed.

The crimson color of the liquid seemed to move independently, dancing with every flicker of the candlelight. Though there were only a few drops, the reflected light filled the room, painting it as red as a cloud at sunset.

“Wow,” murmured Edward.

The two had seen countless documents and failed attempts in their search for the Stone. Even the failures were often impressive, and sometimes, though the brothers strove to bridle their enthusiasm, the failures delighted them and gave them hope.

Like so many attempts they had observed, the Crimson Water was not a completed Philosopher’s Stone. It wasn’t even a Stone, for that matter. However, it promised something almost as valuable: a means to make the real Stone—or at least the best clue they had ever found.

The much-coveted Stone was a legend, almost a fable, and as such, there was little verifiable information to be had about it. It was said to possess a reddish light, the power to fascinate, and … unlimited alchemical potential.

The room shifted like the surface of a pool suffused with a scarlet glow.

Never had they seen something so enchanting, something with such presence, something they wanted so much.

“Al … I think we found it,” Edward breathed, staring fixedly into the liquid. He could barely restrain the tremor of excitement in his voice. “This could advance our research by years. This might unravel the mystery of the Stone.”

Although it was still just one step on the path, after years of nothing, it was a miracle. “There has to be some research data around here somewhere!” Edward slid his hands along the edge of the table. It was perfectly smooth. There were no drawers, nor was there anything else in the room: no shelves, no racks, nothing.

“Maybe they’re in the other room?” Alphonse suggested.

“No, all the notes in that room seemed … odd, somehow.” Edward crouched down to look under the bottom of the table. “I can’t believe there’s nothing here!” He walked along the walls of the room to make sure there weren’t any more secret panels.

“Dammit!” Edward glared at the red fluid. “Just think if we had the recipe for this! We’d be so close!”

“Close … but not there. It’s not the Stone, after all, is it?”

“It’s not, but it’s something, and it’s very, very close.”

Edward gently laid his finger on the flask, as if to touch the liquid through the glass. It felt cold, yet, at the same time, his hand felt hot. Maybe it’s just because I want it so much.

“Of course, I’ve never seen it before, so I can’t say this is it for sure, but Crimson Water is a pretty established element of alchemical lore about the Philosopher’s Stone. No one’s sure exactly what it has to do with the Stone, though. Is it some kind of by-product from making the Stone? Is it something derived from an entirely distinct alchemical process? Or does it harden and become the Stone? I’ve always thought it was something else, something different from the Stone, but it’s definitely involved in the creation of the Stone, one way or another.”

“I see,” Alphonse said, nodding.

“So if that lump Russell carries around is a trial Stone, could this be a byproduct of its creation?”

“Wouldn’t it be more important than that?” Alphonse asked. “Otherwise, why would they be hiding it in this secret room?”

“Good point. Maybe he made that trial lump out of this stuff.”

“That seems like the most likely explanation to me.”

“But if that’s true, where are the records of this experiment? Even if it was a failure, they must have recorded their procedure somewhere.”

“Maybe Russell carries his notes around with him. I mean, there are bandits in town, after all.”

Edward shot a glance at his brother. “I’m surprised you’ll admit it.”

“What choice do we have, under the circumstances?”

“Well, yeah, but …” Edward began, suddenly self-conscious about the part he was playing in leading his younger brother off the straight and narrow path.

“Let’s just get this over with before anyone has a chance to point fingers, okay?”

“Deal. And about those research notes,” Edward continued, returning to the pressing matter at hand, “I don’t think he carries them around with him.”

“Why not?”

“Well, look at what’s been left behind here … It’s weird. It’s like something vital is missing.” Edward’s eyes shone with the light of a sudden realization. “Their methods … They just don’t make any sense!” He dashed back into the main laboratory and began shuffling through the piles of notes. “Look, here, here … and here!”

“Huh?”

“There’s a huge gap in their research! They go from nothing to something with no steps in between! And there’s not a scrap of evidence—no notes, no materials—to indicate they made any Crimson Water!”

“Huh? So that means—”

“Right! They didn’t make it! They’re researching how the Crimson Water was made! They’re taking samples and trying to reverse-engineer the stuff!” Edward picked up scattered notes, scanned them, and tossed them aside. “But without the ingredients and procedure, their research is doomed.”

“Is it that hard to figure out how something was made?”

“It’s like splitting a hair into a hundred pieces—lengthwise. Much harder than creating something from scratch.”

“So it’s … impossible?”

“I’ll say! It’s like taking a sweater and trying to figure out how many strands of wool taken from what parts of which sheep were used to knit it.”

“That sounds impossible, all right.”

The brothers sighed in unison.

They knew it wouldn’t be easy to find the Stone, and they knew better than to have gotten their hopes up, but this time … this time they had seemed so close! Their hearts sank to the floor, and a moment later shot through their throats when they heard a third sigh.

Russell stood in the doorway, arms folded, head hanging down. Fletcher was standing behind him.

“Y-you scared me to death!” Alphonse snapped.

“You could at least be a little noisier when you barge in like that!” Edward growled, humiliated that he had been sneaked up on twice in two nights. Russell’s face was a serene mask.

“You’re one to talk, breaking into a private residence in the middle of the night.”

That was true enough. Edward winced under Russell’s gaze.

Russell’s face grew clouded. “You really think we’ve failed?”

Edward blinked. For a moment, he wasn’t sure what Russell was talking about. Then he realized he was referring to their reverse-engineering experiment. He nodded.

“Your research? Yeah, it’s dead in the water. When you start with a finished product like this, it’s almost impossible to determine what went into making it.”

Russell looked like he’d eaten something bitter. “I see. Well, you are the State Alchemist, after all.” After a moment of silence, he added, “If that’s what you think, it must be true.”

Edward and Alphonse exchanged glances. Something had occurred to them both at the same time, and they didn’t like it. “Wait a second,” Edward said. “We didn’t sneak in here without you knowing about it, did we? You knew I had the key!”

Russell smiled grimly. “You’ve got quite the reputation as a master alchemist, so I thought you’d know a few things I don’t. I wanted a second opinion, you might say.”

Edward shot a glance into the inner room. A scintillating crimson color spilled out of the opened wall into the room where they stood. “Look,” he said, “alchemy is a science. You can’t make something like that in there without the proper ingredients and methodology. Now that you’ve made us jump through your hoops to hear our opinion, I think I’m entitled to a question. What is that in there?”

“That? I call it the ‘Water of Life.’ ”

“The ‘Water of Life’? Is that the Crimson Water they say has something to do with creating the Philosopher’s Stone?”

“Ah, yes. I’ve seen some documents that call it that. There are lots of theories about what it is, and just as many theories of how to make it.” Russell picked up a book from the table near him and thumbed through it. “That wasn’t made as part of the Philosopher’s Stone project, though. It was made to be what it is—the Water of Life … though it’s incomplete.”

“Wait,” Edward snapped, his temper igniting. “Aren’t you getting paid to make the Philosopher’s Stone? Isn’t that why you’re impersonating us?!”

His answer took Edward by surprise.

“I care nothing for the Philosopher’s Stone … or gold, for that matter!”

“So you’re just exploiting the townspeople?!” Edward shouted, boiling mad now.

Russell didn’t flinch. “What I’m doing is still for the sake of the town. It’s just that … I’m doing it in a slightly different way than I told them I would.”

“So you’re still deceiving them, you scumbag!”

Russell shrugged. “I didn’t come here to win your praise.”

Edward fumed. No matter what he said, Russell had a smooth comeback. Russell was always looking down on him, and this infuriated Edward. “You, you … I can’t stand people like you!”

“Then why don’t you leave? Go! You’re putting us in jeopardy as it is.”

“That’s your problem!”

“If Mugear suspects anything, we’ll be in big trouble.”

Edward grinned. “Maybe I’ll just go tell him then!”

Russell shook his head and sighed. “You just don’t listen, do you? Maybe you’ll listen to a little pain, hmm?”

Fletcher’s worried voice came from behind him. “Russell …” He tried to grab his big brother’s arm, but Russell shook him off.

“Fletcher! Make sure Mugear stays in the cellar!”

“But …”

“Go!”

“What a great brother you are,” muttered Alphonse, glaring at Russell. Fletcher looked as if he might say something. Then, without a word, he turned and left.

“We told Mugear to stay downstairs because of the bandits, but that doesn’t change matters much. As long as you’re around, we’re in danger. So get out and don’t come back!”

“If you want us to leave, you’re going to have to throw us out. But if I beat you, you’re going to tell me everything about your research—what you’ve done in that secret room and what it is you’re trying to do.”

Russell was silent.

“I don’t like mysteries,” Edward said, “and this is one I’m going to get to the bottom of.”

Russell’s response was a derisive snort.

Like the night before, the two faced off on the stone tiles of the courtyard.

“Al, stand back.”

“Standing back,” reported Alphonse, glancing back at the wall they had climbed over to get onto the grounds. “I’ll make sure our escape route’s clear.”

“You do that.”

With those words, the battle began.

Neither combatant felt the need to test the other’s strength this time, and both their goals were clear: Russell wanted Edward to leave town, and Edward wanted information from Russell. With the two so evenly matched and equally motivated, no one could say who would prevail. The only thing that was certain was that they would both be tested to their limit.

Russell lifted something in his hand, an iron vessel of some sort that he had grabbed from the laboratory. He brought his hands together, and it became a shiny black lump. Rapidly, the lump twisted into a sword many times larger than the original vessel.

“Ignoring conservation of mass? Rely on that Stone in your pocket like that, and you’ll never beat me,” snarled Edward. He brought his hands together, then pulled his left hand away, as if drawing a sword, and the automail in his right arm extended until it became a long, sharp blade. “The bigger they are, the harder they break!” Edward shouted, waving his slender arm-blade at Russell’s giant iron sword.

Edward lunged forward, slicing the air with his arm-blade. Russell caught the blade with his own, blocking the swing in mid-air.

Russell gasped and took a step back. He had been counting on his larger weapon giving him the advantage, but now he saw a fracture clearly running down the iron blade from the spot where Edward had caught it with his arm-blade.

“What’s wrong?” Edward taunted him. “Go ahead, use your Stone again! See what good it does you!”

Russell put his hand on the back of his thick sword and twisted around, trying to knock Edward backwards, sword-arm and all—but it was merely a ruse. As he turned, he brought his leg up in a swift circle-kick, catching Edward squarely on the shoulder.

“Yow!” Edward shouted as he was knocked back by the blow. Before Edward had time to regain his balance, Russell ran to the outside of the laboratory and put his hands to the wall.

Edward braced himself for a volley of stone spikes like the ones they had launched at each other the night before, but Russell lifted his hands to reveal a tiny, tiny … 

… door?

Edward glared at him suspiciously as Russell grabbed the door’s handle. The instant before it opened, Edward remembered what was on the other side of that wall. Twisting his body in midair, he fell back and to the side as a blast of flame erupted from the opening. Russell had opened a door directly into the laboratory furnace.

“Whoa! That was close!” Edward yelped as he fell on his rear to avoid the blast. As he struggled to stand, he saw Russell’s foot flying straight at him. Edward dodged aside at the last moment, thinking quickly enough to thrust with his right arm-blade at the same time. Russell’s eyes went to the shining steel, and Edward’s left fist caught him in the side.

“Got you!”

“No, I’ve got you!” shouted Russell, grabbing Edward’s outstretched fist. Russell leaned into Edward’s shoulder and fell onto him, pushing him toward the ground.

“Hey!” Edward reached a hand down to the stone surface of the courtyard and lurched sideways, rolling out from under Russell. Edward hopped up and away, putting some distance between them. Russell let him go, choosing to catch his breath rather than give chase.

“You’re as shifty as a little monkey,” he sneered.

“What did you say?!”

“But for a monkey, you’ve got a pretty good punch,” Russell admitted, rubbing his side. Edward grinned, then winced and rubbed his own shoulder, which had taken the brunt of Russell’s kick a moment before.

The two had adopted a similar strategy. They knew that when it came to straight alchemy, they were evenly matched. The deadly weapons they had fashioned were only for feinting to create opportunities to land a few blows in hand-to-hand combat. But there too, they were evenly matched.

“We’ll be at this until the sun comes up,” Russell said, sounding as unconcerned as if he were talking about two strangers.

“You wish! You’re only a match for me because of that Stone, remember?” Edward shouted, furious that Russell actually considered himself his equal.

“That kick wasn’t alchemy, you know,” Russell said with a smile.

“I know,” Edward spat. Okay, so maybe they were equally matched when it came to fighting, but he didn’t have to remind him with every other breath. “Would you stop being so … so annoying?”

“I’m not annoying. You’re just easily annoyed.”

Edward feinted and kicked. Russell deftly stepped aside, bringing his elbow down toward Edward’s back.

“Saw that one coming!” Edward yelled, twisting away as he brought his knee up to score a blow into Russell’s solar plexus.

Russell froze for an instant, the wind knocked out of him. Edward pushed him down, trying to pin him without actually hurting him too much, but Russell easily knocked his hand aside. Edward shook his hand out to get rid of the tingling from the blow he had inflicted.

“Not bad.”

“Same to you,” Russell countered as he tried to catch his breath and rubbed his sore stomach. “For someone with a short temper, you sure are persistent.”

“Hurts, doesn’t it? I spar with my brother every day, you know. That’s the difference training makes. When I get a blow in, you can bet you’ll feel it.”

“Yeah, well … I only fight grown men, myself. I suppose I should do some sparring with Fletcher, now that you mention it.”

“Huh? Fletcher can fight?” Edward couldn’t picture lanky, frail Fletcher being much of a challenge. Russell laughed.

“It would be good practice for fighting someone shorter than myself.”

Edward’s temples twitched. “You really, really shouldn’t have said that.”

“Ah-hah! So that bothers you!” chortled Russell. He seemed very satisfied with himself for having hit his mark. “You shouldn’t let it, you know,” he added. His tone made it clear he meant the exact opposite.

Edward howled with rage and came at him, fists swinging. Russell wasn’t the type to be caught by wild punches. He ducked aside and brought up his leg, but Edward was more focused than he seemed, and he dodged the kick easily.

“I’m going to beat you to a pulp!” he shouted. “Then I’ll do this, and this, and sn-n-n-nap!” Edward leapt around and waved his hands as he spoke, pantomiming how he was going to pick Russell up and break him over his knee. The snapping noise was the part where he broke the imaginary Russell in half. “I never liked you, not from the moment I saw you. You act like you’re so smooth, but you just come across as uptight and stuck-up. Yeah, I’m sure it gets you places, but you know what? It makes you seem like a grown-up. Of course, you could be lying about your age …”

Russell’s mouth twitched when he heard the word “grown-up.” Edward noticed and went in for the kill. Finally the tables had turned, and he had a lot to get even for.

“Oh? So you’re touchy about your age? Maybe I should put it another way? You’re not like a ‘grown-up,’ you’re … past your prime!” Edward laughed. “I’m sorry, did I hurt your feelings? How old are you really?”

Edward was on a roll. Now he was the smooth talker, while Russell looked positively miserable. Until … 

“Aha!” Russell exclaimed with a wide grin. “You can’t stand my being taller than you, even though we’re the same age!” He took a step forward. “You want me to be older than you, don’t you?”

Edward cringed, but he wasn’t going to give up so easily. “You’re behind the times, out of style, past your prime … And you don’t have enough energy to be the same age as me!” He took a step forward and pointed an accusatory finger at Russell. The two started in on each other at point-blank range.

“I’m going to wipe that smirk off your face!”

“Keep chattering, little monkey.”

Sparks shot through the air between them.

They faced off, one looking down, the other looking up, as the insults continued to fly.

“You’ll pay for using my name, I swear. And don’t worry, I won’t take pity on you just ’cause you’re an old geezer!”

Russell raised clenched fists, rubbed his eyes, and yawned. “Phew! Sure is tiring looking down at someone for so long. I guess you wouldn’t understand …”

In just a few moments, the two had completely forgotten their objectives. This was personal.

The fight escalated with alchemy, punches, and flying kicks. The only difference was that now they hurled insults at each other as they battled.

They both knew they were being ridiculous. But when they looked around, they saw that neither of their brothers was there to stop them … so on they fought.

WHILE THE OLDER BROTHERS battled it out, Alphonse worked his way down the wall to make sure their escape route was clear. “Uh-oh,” he muttered to himself, dropping down to all fours as several guards passed by. When they had arrived there had only been three guards at the front gate. But now those three had been joined by a few more. He could hear them pacing outside the perimeter. If they scaled the wall, they would be caught in an instant.

Alphonse looked across the compound to the wall on the other side. If memory served, it was strung along its length with barbed wire. This could work to their advantage. If the guards relied on the barbed wire, they might not patrol that side. No guard would want to give chase over barbed wire, but for Edward with his steel arm, and Alphonse in his armor, a barrier like that posed little difficulty. Besides, it was beginning to look like their only option.

Alphonse sat up on his haunches. One of the trees lining the far wall had begun to shake.

Guards? In the courtyard?

Alphonse was straining to make out what was going on, when the piercing shriek of a guard whistle cut the night air. Back at the mansion, lights flickered on, one by one. Alphonse froze. Then someone hissed his name.

“Alphonse!”

It was Fletcher, standing before the wall with the barbed wire. That’s what had made the tree shake: Fletcher climbing down it.

“Fletcher?”

“Quick, get your brother! If you don’t leave right now, you’ll get caught!”

“Right!”

Alphonse could tell from the look on Fletcher’s face that he was serious. This wasn’t a trap—he really wanted to help them escape.

Meanwhile, Edward and Russell were wasting their alchemy talents throwing chunks of courtyard at each other. Suddenly, another guard’s whistle sounded.

“What the—? Al!” Edward tossed away the cobblestone in his hand, and turned to see lights flashing on in the mansion. Russell saw the guards approaching swiftly.

“I told them to stay out of this!”

“Well, looks like they weren’t listening!” Edward broke into a run. He could hear Alphonse calling from the back of the courtyard.

“Ed! This way!’

“Al!”

“W-wait!” shouted Russell, giving chase.

“What are you following me for?” Edward yelled over his shoulder.

“I’m going to be the one who kicks you out! I’ve got my reputation to consider!”

“You’re just scared we’ll get caught and blow your cover!”

The two followed Alphonse to the back of the courtyard until they reached the rear wall, where Fletcher was waiting.

“Fletcher!” exclaimed Russell. “What are you doing here? I told you to handle Mugear!”

Ignoring his brother, Fletcher turned and put his hands to the wall behind him. An alchemical transmutation circle had been drawn on the wall. When he touched it, a light flared from inside the circle and rapidly spread across the wall. When it faded, a door stood where there had been nothing but solid stone.

“Quick, go through! There aren’t any guards on the other side—I checked.”

Edward and Alphonse looked at Fletcher with amazement.

“Fletcher—you can do alchemy?”

“And without a Stone! You’re better than Russell.”

Fletcher pushed them both toward the door.

“Hurry up and get out of here! If you get caught, we’ll all be in trouble. Please!”

Fletcher’s urgency was easy to understand. If Edward and Alphonse were caught, they would give their names, and the impostors would be unveiled. Of course, it wasn’t like they owed Fletcher and Russell anything. After all, they were the ones who had stolen the real Elric brothers’ identities. Still, the desperation in Fletcher’s voice touched them, and without thinking, they instinctively threw open the door and ran through it.

Behind them, on the other side of the wall, they heard the muffled sound of a commotion. But where they stood it was frightfully quiet. There were no guards anywhere to be seen.

“Thrown out on our ear again.”

“Yup.”

“I don’t like how any of this is going,” Edward muttered, rubbing the bruise on his cheek where Russell had landed a punch. “No Stone, no research data … We’re taking the fall for Russell’s scheme, and the townspeople are all backward … Come to think of it, why are we staying here, anyway? I don’t care if this town is ruined!”

Standing quietly next to him, Alphonse nodded. “You’re right. Russell doesn’t have the Stone. But … he did have some trial Stones that work. There aren’t any useful research notes. But … they do have the Water of Life. And Fletcher does seem to regret stealing our identities. And even the townspeople are beginning to realize they can’t keep doing whatever Mugear tells them to forever. Sure, it won’t affect us one way or the other if this town dries up and blows away, but it would still be a shame, wouldn’t it? I mean, it feels like we’re standing at a crossroads. So much could happen, for good or bad … ”

Edward glanced at Alphonse out of the corner of his eye.

Alphonse returned his sidelong glance. “Come on, don’t you care about this town a little?”

“Well, if you put it that way … ”

“I’m just saying what I see in your eyes, Ed.”

The two looked back up at the wall. It was completely quiet again. They had no idea what was happening on the other side. For that matter, they had no idea what had been going on in there before, or what the impostor Elrics were really up to.

“Not interested in the Stone or gold …” Edward mulled over Russell’s words. “So what does he want?”

“He really gets to you, doesn’t he?”

Well, thought Edward, if nothing else, at least we’ll have plenty of time to guess tonight.

WITH A WAVE of Fletcher’s hand, the door disappeared, leaving the wall in its original state. He turned to his brother, his eyes fixed on his feet. “I’m sorry.”

Russell’s face was set in his usual mask, but he was furious. Yet when he spoke, his voice remained cool and even. “You mean you’re sorry you let them go? No need to apologize. It’s a good thing they didn’t get caught and tell Mugear who they were. Then we’d be in real trouble, huh?”

“I’m not talking about that.”

And you know it, but you’re too mad to even say it.

Fletcher swallowed. “I’m sorry I used alchemy.”

His brother’s eyes burned into his, and Fletcher had to turn his face aside. He had promised … 

Russell sighed deeply and turned away. “What would Father think? He asked us never to use alchemy. We promised! I … I hoped that you, at least, would keep that promise.”

Fletcher stared at his brother’s back. Come to think of it, in a number of ways, he felt he hadn’t looked straight into his brother’s eyes since their arrival at the lab. He couldn’t bear to.

I don’t want to see you lie.

I don’t want to see you using the Stone … using alchemy.

I don’t want to see you drown in your research … 

But now it seemed to Fletcher that he could see chains around his brother, chains binding his thoughts and his actions. They were wrapped so tightly Russell could barely breathe—yet he couldn’t see them. All this time Fletcher had thought he was the one who was trapped, forced to go along with his brother’s lies, but now he could see it was the other way around. Russell was bound; Fletcher was free, and only Fletcher could see the truth. But how could Russell be freed?

He was lying to make someone else’s dreams come true.

He was devoting his life to research to finish what someone else could not.

He was using alchemy, all the while apologizing for it to that someone else.

“Can’t you see?” Fletcher whispered.

“See what?”

“Why did we lie and say we were the Elric brothers?”

“We had to so we could do our research here.”

“And why are we doing this research?”

“Because it’s what he wanted. He wanted to redeem this town.”

“If you think that’s what he wanted you to do, why don’t you just use your own alchemy instead of those Stones?”

“Because he told me not to.”

Russell can’t see the chains … 

“Does it make you happy, doing all this for him?”

“I’m doing the right thing.”

The chains are so heavy.

“If that’s true,” Fletcher shouted, his voice trembling, “why do you look so miserable?!”

Fletcher was filled with pity for his brother. It was time to give a name to those chains. “You’re not our father!”

Russell’s face hardened.

“Our father was a great man,” Fletcher continued, “and a talented alchemist. We started doing alchemy because we wanted to be like him, remember? But when he told us to stop, we did.” Fletcher’s voice choked. His entire body was trembling, and he was on the verge of tears. “You told me it was all right to lie to get into this lab so we could carry on what our father started. But you’re pushing yourself too far with those Stones—and for what? For who? You’re just following the same path that he walked! Why, Russell? What about what you want?”

Russell said nothing.

“Our father had the talent—he even made apprentice to a State Alchemist. But then he quit and came to do research here. He had his reasons, I’m sure, but all the same, he didn’t want you to follow in his footsteps. Russ, if you keep on like this, you’ll kill yourself …”

The two brothers had dreamed of becoming alchemists, just like the one they most looked up to, their father. But he had ordered them to give up their dream. It would have been hard on anyone.

“You think Father would be angry at me for using alchemy like I did just now? How do you think he’d feel about us stealing the Elrics’ names? I used alchemy to help them, and if I can use my talent to help others, then I’ll keep on using it. In fact, someday, I want to be an alchemist—a great alchemist.”

Russell stared at Fletcher. Fletcher cringed. Would he shout at him? Would he punch him? He’d done both. But Fletcher wouldn’t turn away. His brother was wrapped in chains he couldn’t see, and it was Fletcher’s responsibility to set him free. He returned Russell’s gaze, and his heart filled with courage. This was what Alphonse had given him at the pharmacy. It was a fair trade.

IN THE END, Russell said and did nothing. He just turned away. And then a guard appeared and told them to report to the main hall. Without a word, Russell began walking back toward the mansion.

“Russ … ?” Fletcher followed, watching his brother out of the corner of his eye.

Russell’s face was white in the moonlight, an emotionless mask. Suddenly their positions had reversed. Now it was Russell who couldn’t talk, Russell who had been silenced by Fletcher’s words.

As they entered the hall, they saw Mugear halfway up the staircase to the second floor, leaning on the banister. He was looking over some documents. He glanced over at Russell and Fletcher when they entered.

“So you drove off the bandits?”

Russell nodded. “Yes.”

“That’s two nights in a row. This is beginning to disturb my rest. You tell me we should merely drive them off, Master Edward, but perhaps it would be better to capture them?”

“No. They can perform a little alchemy. If we brought them inside, who knows what havoc they might wreak? If we keep driving them off, they’ll give up eventually.” Russell spoke quickly and without hesitation.

Mugear shook his head. “No, I think not. I believe you’re worried that I’ll meet them and your deception will be revealed.”

Russell tensed. Beside him, Fletcher gasped.

“You instructed me to take shelter in the cellar, so I did, but I had so much time on my hands down there … Plenty of time to think things over.”

Mugear came down the stairs, sliding his hand down the railing. “The cellar of this house was made for holding people who wouldn’t listen to reason, you see. I was just thinking about the last person I put in there.”

Russell swallowed and said nothing.

“He was a man from this town, in fact. He left years before to study alchemy at the capital. He had great talent, but for some reason, he returned despite having just begun his apprenticeship. I’m not sure of the details of his departure, but he seemed very frightened. I offered him safe haven, and in exchange, he agreed to make me a Philosopher’s Stone. He said he was through with alchemy, but when he saw how shabby his hometown had become, he agreed to do research for me, as long as I permitted him to continue his work on the Water of Life. He said the Water would help restore the greenery that this town had lost so long ago.

“My intentions were noble. If he had completed the Philosopher’s Stone, I would have used my influence to make certain the military didn’t come after him, and I allowed him to do as much of his own research as he liked. I was generous, too. I gave him all the materials he requested. However, all he did was repeat the same experiments over and over, to no purpose. He would not listen to reason, so I put him down in the cellar for a while to think things over.”

Mugear held Russell and Fletcher in his steady gaze as he spoke. “I remember he told me he had two sons. Brothers with golden hair and silver eyes. He would smile as he told me how they resembled their late mother. When he completed the Philosopher’s Stone, he said, he would say adieu to his life of toil and summon his sons to him to share in the paradise of Xenotime. His name was … ah, yes, Nash Tringum, I believe.”

Mugear threw down the documents he was holding. They drifted to rest at Russell’s feet. The documents identified State Alchemist Edward Elric.

“Apparently the real Edward has gold hair and golden eyes.” Mugear strode over, grabbed Russell’s chin, and tilted it up. “Your eyes don’t look gold to me.” He swung his fist back and hit Russell hard on the jaw. Russell fell to the floor.

“You’re Nash’s sons, aren’t you?!” Mugear snarled.

Russell just sat on the floor without lifting a hand to defend himself and said nothing.

“The ones who came here—these bandits of yours—I know they’re the real Elric brothers. I’ll bring them here and have them prove it.” He grabbed Russell by the lapels. But Russell’s face remained a mask, as always. Mugear raised his fist again and hissed, “Insolent child!”

The fist fell on Fletcher, who leapt between Mugear and his brother.

“Please, stop!” begged Fletcher. His head began to pound. “It’s just as you say. I’m Fletcher! And this is my brother, Russell. Nash Tringum was our father!”

“Fletcher!” Russell pulled his brother to him, and saw the bruise forming on his forehead. He shot Mugear a furious look, but by then, they were surrounded by guards.

“Throw them in the cellar!” Mugear ordered. The guards pinned Russell’s arms behind him and shoved him towards the stairs leading downward.

“Oh,” Mugear said with a smile. “I almost forgot.” Reaching into Russell’s pocket, he pulled out a faintly glowing red shard. “I see you’ve gotten some use out of your trial Stones. You might even be able to make a little gold, no?”

Mugear grabbed a candle and studied the reflections in the Stone. For a moment, he was lost in fascination as he gazed upon the shimmering light. “I’ll have to summon new alchemists to complete my project, and I’ll have to raise more money to fund their research. Things will be hectic around here.”

He cared nothing for the townspeople, whose lives would only grow harder as he continued to bleed them to fund his project. Mugear’s only interest was the obscene wealth he dreamed of acquiring for himself with a true Philosopher’s Stone.