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Alchemist's Waltz

Crossroads

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a part of Alchemist's Waltz, by Anno Domini.

A Western kingdom of massive proportions.

Anno Domini holds sovereignty over Crossroads, giving them the ability to make limited changes.

909 readers have been here.

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Crossroads

A Western kingdom of massive proportions.

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Crossroads is a part of Alchemist's Waltz.

18 Characters Here

Alkera Jolse [1] A young surveyor and cartographer. She is the creator of many of the most acurate charts and maps, but not many know her beyond the name at the bottom of their map. As well as mapamacking she is an apprentice gunsmith.
Adrian Darkchylde/Maiya Toren [0] Two souls seeking to save their distant country.
Terra Arrowny [0] A fiercely independent and naturally curious young wolf-girl seeking the power to take her race from second-class to top dog.
Conor Venz [0] The Blind Alchemist
Soldier of the Crossroads State Military [0] A Footsoldier of the State Military, trained to kill and defend the land. Strong and determined, he is willing to do anything for his country.
Pierre Montagne [0] A young man at the cutting edge of Alchemic research.
Stella M. Pennington [0] (Alternate Version) At sixteen, Stella has only just escaped her parents' home and without being recruited by the Crossraods Academy, wanders aimlessly to Northgate.
Beval "Brown" Koshovska [0] A Chimeran Clockwork Alchemist out to prove his worth. *Guild Character*
Lain Caleglia [0] An Alchemist that uses peculiar methods... In search of the Truth.
Hyde Duval [0] A Homunculus born from the dark side of a man's heart.

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The fireplace in Solomon's shop slowly closed as Pierre strode down the celestial hallway into the main cavern of the Guild. "Zat bastard," he grumbled while shoving his hands into his coat pockets for warmth. "Trying to trick me with such impertinent lies." The man suddenly stopped in his tracks as a new thought came to him. What if Francois had been telling the truth? My brother has never been the curious type, but... Pierre immediately took off running for the archives.

Pierre was sprinting down the main road when he saw Beval. As he ran past the him, the alchemist grabbed the chimera's arm, and surprisingly enough, had enough momentum to pull the hulking figure along with him. "No time to explain!" Pierre shouted over the wind rushing past his ears. "We need to look up ze Eternal Knowledge!"

((Hey Anno, I hope it's OK that I'm referencing the Knowledge here, seeing as it's an alternate storyline. The first time I mentioned it, it was the only reason I could think of for Francois coming to see Pierre. Now I have a much more devious plan...))

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"What has you all riled up about myth?

"Zere is no time to explain!" Pierre replied hastily, looking around for the lore section. "'Elp me find books on it, now!"

"Sorry," [Stella] managed. "I'm not laughing at you, exactly. It's just..."

"Ah, Stella! Good!" Pierre exclaimed with the same breathy voice he had used with Beval. "You can 'elp too!" Without any further ado, Pierre rushed over to the section of the archived he had been looking for. The alchemist hastily grabbed a few volumes on the Knowledge, the Philosopher's Stone, and similar subjects and went to sit down at the nearest table. In a matter of seconds he was deeply engrossed in his research, paying no attention to the outside world as he scanned page after page as fast as he could.

((Sorry for the length. On a completely separate note, did anyone stay up late last night to watch Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory? I did!))

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As Pierre sped off without wasting a moment, Beval turned to Stella and flashed a smile. "You're well. Good," His words were gentle and brief, but he didn't waste time as he wandered off along the rows upon rows of shelves. What is he all about today? The thought buzzed about his head as the bear fumbled through books and topics, picking out only the most tantalizing titles. Such was Beval's occasionally short attention span, only having time to glaze over large prints like "The Sovereign Chemical" and "Biblical Accountance: The Eternal Knowledge". He couldn't be troubled with sifting through encyclopedias or directories.

Taking a few choice pieces under one arm, Beval returned to a study table and came to sit. This is way too much reading for one day... He thought with a sigh before opening the front cover of "Studies in Alchemical Relics" and gazing inward. Every other sentence he shot a glance over to Pierre and then to Stella. Her recovery came faster than he had anticipated- within the day even was a surprise. Still, he wasn't terribly impressed, having already seen what the girl was capable of. Easterners had strange tendencies that he'd observed, but their ability to shrug off the most serious of injuries was new to him. Guess she doesn't even have time for illness, he thought happily.

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Pierre groaned in exhaustion as he flipped yet another page in the giant encyclopedia he was looking through. "I'm beginning to sink zat zere is nosing useful 'ere!" he exclaimed, thumping his head against the desk he was working at. "All of zese texts say zat ze Knowledge is powerful, but zere are no specifics! Every book 'as ze same information!" The exasperated young man tiredly closed the book, adding it to the ever-growing pile of spent books.

Pierre mechanically picked up the next work, a small, leather bound book no larger than a pocket journal. It had probably belonged to some long-dead alchemist, perhaps an ancestor of one of the current guild members. Just by looking at the first page, Pierre could tell that this person had spent his or her entire life searching for the knowledge. The dates on the top margins began almost one hundred years ago, and spanned the distance of about twenty-five years. As Pierre flipped through the pages, the handwriting became more illegible, and the notes less organized. Clearly, the research had taken its toll on the alchemist.

Pierre looked at each page with a scrutinizing glare; he didn't want to miss a single detail. With each page, the job got harder and harder. All he found were increasingly confusing reports of the alchemist's speculations and failed expeditions. After what seemed like an eternity, Pierre came upon the last page of the book. It was completely blank.

"Dammit!" Pierre yelled, slamming the booklet down onto the table. He received several glares from nearby Archives workers, but he saw none of them. Sighing deeply, the young man picked up the book to place it on the pile of books he had already read. Before he had a chance to do so, however, a soft noise stopped him. A small wad of paper, which had previously been concealed in the binding, had fallen out of the book and onto the table. Pierre slowly unfolded the small slip of paper, holdong his breath in anticipation. The sheet was blank, save one line: The fires of knowledge will tell all.

"I've always 'ated riddles," Pierre murmured as he pondered the words in front of him.

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"Ze fires of knowledge..." Pierre murmured, his brow furrowing up into an unsightly bundle of wrinkles. "What could zat mean? It cannot be ze Knowledge itself; it would be kind of ridiculous for someone to need ze knowledge to learn a clue about it..." The longer Pierre stared at the small slip of paper, the more he grew frustrated. The riddle seemed to taunt him, laughing at his failed attempts to uncover its secrets.

Just as he was in the middle of concentrating, Pierre heard a rather disorienting noise accompanied by a bright flash of light, the reaction typical of clockwork alchemy. Beval, Pierre thought. Glancing over at his friend, who had sat a table or two away, the man could see that the chimera was transmuting something or other. While Pierre was a little ticked off that the alchemy had disrupted his chain of thought, he was still a bit curious about what his colleague was doing.

Without much further thought, Pierre gathered his things and began to migrate towards Beval's table. Unfortunately, Pierre had chosen the wrong moment to arrive. Just as he was about to sit down, a heavy plume of smoke shot out of the transforming mass and nailed him right in the face. After a few seconds, the geyser had receded, but Pierre's face was already covered in soot. "What ze 'ell is zat?" he asked as the transmutation finished.

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"It is 'is ambition zat makes 'im so willing to look for ze stone," Pierre replied to Stella. "My brother 'as always loved power, and 'e would always do whatever 'e 'ad to to get it. I suppose that, with all of ze people so 'yped up about ze Knowledge, 'e 'as convinced 'imself zat it is real. But Francois knows zat 'e cannot find it alone. Our alchemy 'as always been stronger when we work together, no matter how rare zat may be; a master of ze concrete and a master of ze abstract can do marvelous sings in each others' company. Francois probably sought zat, if I went with 'im, zat we would 'ave a better chance of finding ze Knowledge. 'E's always been like zat. Above all else, zere is one thing I know. My brother is on an agenda, and 'e won't let somesing like a fable stop him."

Satisfied with his explanation, Pierre took another look at the paper. Ze fire of knowledge... he thought, rubbing his chin. For a long while, he came up with nothing. Then, against all odds, a small, almost insignificant piece of information surfaced in the depths of his mind: a short quote he had learned in school. Knowledge is a fire in the hearts of men, it has the power both to give and to take away.

Suddenly it all made sense. Instead of 'the fire of knowledge,' the paper really meant 'the knowledge of knowledge.' "Knowledge is ze basis of science," Pierre mumbled, the gears in his head spinning so fast they threatened to break off. "Alchemy, of course! Why didn't I think of it before?" Pierre snatched up the slip of paper and held it up to the study light at the desk. Sure enough, if one looked close enough, one could see the faint gleam of an invisible ink. The alchemist, his hands trembling so much that he could barely hold the paper, scrambled to gather four small paperweights from neighboring tables. After he had fastened the slip flat against the work surface, Pierre turned to Stella.

"Torch it."

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Pierre watched with intense anticipation as Stella gently heated the paper. Slowly but surely, the paper darkened, leaving only a small area untouched. This space spelled out three short words: ONE MAN ARMY.

Pierre's heart skipped a beat; it all made sense now. Memories from the man's distant past flooded his mind, further clarifying the events that had unfolded.

It was a cool autumn afternoon in the Auvergnian countryside. Over the gentle rustling of the suntanned leaves could be heard the loud clanging that is commonly associated with the common pastime of fencing.

Two young boys were going at each other with iron foils, the younger about thirteen years old while the other, a nearly identical child, seemed to be a few years older. The duo seemed to be evenly matched, with the one of them occasionally gaining the advantage for a minute or two before losing it to the other. These boys were none other than Pierre and Francois Montaigne, both aspiring alchemists.

Pierre was currently in the lead, beating his brother back farther and farther, getting closer and closer to the duel-ending touch he needed to win. Francois, in a desperate attempt to regain the upper hand, made a daring lunge towards his foe. Pierre pulled back, causing his brother to stumble forwards. The younger brother immediately came in for the kill, only to fall down himself. A few sparks left the ground around Francois' foot, a sign that he had used alchemy to best his brother.

"No fair!" Pierre whined, getting up and brushing the dirt off his knees. "You can't use alchemy in fencing!"

"Nothing says I can't!" the elder replied, laughing.

"Why do you always have to win?" Pierre said, glaring at his sibling. "Every time I start winning, you always cheat and beat me!"

"Well, I have to start somewhere, don't I? One day I'm going to be a King, and Kings don't lose at anything."


This last, pompous sentence rang in Pierre's head as he stood up from the table. "He's planning a coup d'état. Warm up that weapon of yours, Beval: we're going hunting."

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It wasn't long before Pierre, Stella, and Beval were walking once again, this time away from the Archives.

"Look, Pierre, I know you want to stop your brother and everything, but just how exactly are we supposed to do that? If he's even half as smart as you make him out to be, he's got enough people to make a serious attempt at this, and probably some really impressive weaponry too. I don't know how many members of the Guild you're planning on telling this to, but even if you had all of them on your side, it probably wouldn't be enough. And in case you hadn't noticed, there are presently only three of us."

"Details, details," Pierre murmured, not really paying attention. His mind was too busy brainstorming where his brother would be found. Would he have come back to the guild, or just got up and left Northgate? Well, he's still in the city, Pierre thought as he rounded a sharp corner. If he wants what we suspect, he won't give up so easily.

"Where will we be going?" [Beval] asked offhandedly as they went.

Pierre cringed on the inside. Even he wasn't entirely sure of the answer, but he couldn't tell Beval that. It would be humiliating! "Solomon's office," he said with faux confidence. The only thing he could hope now was that his guess was right.

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"So it's a two man team," Golding's proposition sounded like it was already set in stone.

Well, at least Stalla won't be alone if anysing goes wrong, Pierre thought. He had tried to get Stella out of the mission altogether, but in retrospect, it was clea that the would have been impossible.

"Our infiltrating agent shall be the lovely miss Pennington. Her exquisitely knowledgeable informant shall be sir Montaigne." Scratching about with a piece of chalk that was also inexplicably there, Solomon sketched up a Guild with two or so circles inside and an extra one beyond it. "Miss Pennington should be able to get closest to Francois. She can study his movements and track the progress of our southern counterpart." The two circles were now identified as the elder Montaigne brother and Stella. "Meanwhile, she will relay her knowledge to Peter and maintain a line of communication as to refer to him for advice and aid." Solomon then drew a dotted line from Stella to Pierre, lowering his piece of chalk triumphantly.

"A sound plan, Mr. Golding," Lord Pennington announced with a grunt, raising one pompous hand to scratch at his chin. "but what of their communication? Are they expected to maintain a dialogue by post?" The lord leveled his eyes with Solomon, mistaken to think that even he could outsmart the Guild master. "That issue will be taken up by our mechanical specialist, sir Koshovska." Solomon let his gaze fall onto Beval, a trusting and careful one that imparted a world of responsibility. "Isn't that right, Beval?"

"Yes sir," The young bear's voice, for once, almost faltered.


Pierre was silent. He agreed with Pennington; it was a good plan. However, he couldn't help but feel a bit of remorse at leaving Beval behind. If there was only some way of him tagging-

"The lie is too small," she said. "A Westmarckian refugee wants to join a Guild. It's far too innocuous. Someone good with this kind of thing would be suspicious right away. But not... not if I slip in after his brother and someone he fought with. He'll be far too busy keeping tabs on the two of you to even think anything of me, especially if I act like I don't know either of you. Besides, if we have to fight our way out, I'd say three people are better than one. Beval could communicate directly to Solomon. If any of us are found out, it would be easy enough to say we worked alone, too."


"Sounds good to me," Pierre spoke up. This was probably the only window of opportunity that would let all three of them go to Southgate, and he wouldn't let it just fly by. "Now, if zat is all, Monsieur Golding, ze three of us should probably go pack."

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Since Solomon seemed to have no objections to the plan, Pierre exited the office with the others and immediately left for his apartment to go pack. There wasn't too much to pack, just a few changes of clothes and his alchemical equipment. Most of his clothes were warm and bulky, hardly suitable for the desert-like conditions of the far south, but Pierre picked out a few of the thinner pieces and put them in his briefcase. He could always buy some more fitting attire when they got to their destination. Once he had packed his scientific instruments, no pun intended, carefully into the suitcase, the alchemist swept his research papers into an untidy pile and stuffed them inside. He would be able to sort them out later, once they arrived at Southgate.

As he passed by his bookshelf, Pierre contemplated bringing some reading material with him. After a few seconds' hesitation, he grabbed a few reference books, as well as a novel or two. It was a long ride to Southgate, and the only chance they would have to get off the train would be at the halfway point of Junction City. Perhaps a good book would help distract Pierre from the tedious travel ahead of him.

"If only zere was some sort of flying contraption zat could be used for travel," Pierre mumbled as he walked out of his room, locking the door up tightly behind him. "It would be much faster zan zose bumbling death traps they call trains."

Before long, he was out in the courtyard and ready to go. Pierre walked over to one of the many park-style benches that adorned the grassy plaza, resting his arm on the wrought iron armrest and setting his briefcase on his lap. The man's foot tapped impatiently; Pierre had always been a fast-moving person. I 'ope zat zis will be over soon, he thought, absentmindedly drumming his fingers on his suitcase. I 'ave always 'ated ze South.

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Pierre sighed as he rested his head on his hand. He had never been to Southgate, but he had heard rumors, and few of them were pretty. Some said that it was set in the middle of a scorched desert, and that there wasn't any water within fifty mules that wasn't several fathoms underground: it almost made one grateful to live in a godforsaken tundra. Pierre had also heard that the people there were as harsh as the environment they lived in, and that it was difficult for travelers to find lodging without gaining several cold glares. But, then again, it was probably all hearsay... right?

Pierre looked up just in time to see Beval enter the courtyard. Beval seems to be wearing new clothes, Pierre noted. 'e must 'ave transmuted zem. Grabbing his suitcase and standing up, Pierre strode over to his friend, feeling shorter and shorter the closer he got to him. "Shall we go find Stella?"

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"I'm ready if you two are. I suppose we are to take the train?"

"I would say so," Pierre chuckled as he followed Stella out into the rune shop. "Unless you feel like walking to Southgate!" Pierre crossed the hardwood floor of the dusty shop and grabbed his black woolen cloak. After donning the itchy, yet warm garment, the man grasped the brass doorknob of the shop's entrance and pulled the door open.

A blast of frigid air met Pierre as he stepped outside. The snow had stopped, although some of the snowdrifts that had formed in the alleyway adjacent to the rune shop were several feet deep. Sketching a simple transmutation circle in the snow, Pierre cleared a path through the precipitation to the street, which was, to his relief, much less snow-ridden. "Come on out!" he called out jokingly to Stella and Beval. "Ze weather is fine!"

---

Luckily, the snow had not delayed the train schedule, and the locomotive destined for Southgate was running perfectly. It wasn't uncommon for the harsh conditions in Northgate to put a train or two out of commission for a day or two, and snow often covered the train tracks leading into the station. Despite the recent snowfall, the station maintenance crew had been able to clear the tracks well enough for the trains to safely enter and leave.

"Next," a monotone voice called out, and Pierre stepped up to the ticket counter.

"Three tickets for ze train to Southgate, [i]s'il vous plaît," Pierre said, setting the appropriate amount of currency on the granite surface before him.

"Your train is now boarding, and will be leaving in twenty minutes, sir," the station clerk said handing Pierre the tickets. "I would hurry if I were you."

Heeding the lady's words, Pierre briskly walked back to Stella and Beval, handing them their tickets. "Ze train is boarding," he said, picking up his suitcase, which he had left with them while he went to get tickets. "Let's go get our seats now."

((Hope you guys don't mind that I skipped to the station.))

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Whether it be from exhaustion or from the fact that Pierre was ignoring him, the young man ceased his non-stop speech and retired to look out of the window. Before long, Pierre felt the car lurch as their train began to chug out of the train station. The alchemist watched as the snow-laden trees drifted past their compartment window, slowly speeding up until they melded together into one monochrome blur. Tearing his eyes away from the dizzying scenery, Pierre once again turned his eyes down to his lap and opened his book.

It wasn't a particularly good book; sure, it contained a few interesting tidbits of information, but Pierre already knew most of the facts contained therein, and he had never been too much of a history buff anyway. Needless to say, in a few minutes, he was listlessly gazing around the small compartment he was in. Ironically, Beval seemed very uncomfortable sitting next to who he was seated next to; normally, it would have been Beval who would make others feel uneasy. Stella, on the other hand, seemed to find distaste in the aforementioned woman. Last, but not least, there was a small child seated in the corner of the small room. Although he could not have been much older than eleven or twelve, he seemed to be much wiser than his appearance let on. His eyes along gave Pierre the chills.

Why couldn't we have gotten a car full of normal people? the man thought. Somehow, he already knew the answer to that question. Life just isn't that simple.

((There we go. Not the best post I've ever written, but it'll have to do.))

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((SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SORRY I TOOK SO LONG!!! As you might know, the new Pokemon game just came out, and I'm a huge fan of the series (four days in and I've already beaten the Elite Four). That, and I think my senioritis might have set in a few years too soon. Hopefully I'll be able to get back in the swing of posting regularly soon.))

Time seemed to pass very slowly in the cabin, at least for Pierre. Any conversation between the small rooms inhabitants had died down to near nothingness, allowing the faint rattling of the train cars to be heard through the thick cocoon of wood, glass and steel. Stella seemed to have fallen asleep, and Beval had attempted to rescue himself from the awkward situation by leaving the room for some 'fresh air'. Pierre drummed his fingers lightly on the front cover of his book as the viscous silence filled the room and those in it. 'ow long 'as it been? Pierre thought, taking out his pocket watch only to stare blankly at its ornate, ticking hands and whirring complications. We should be arriving at ze next station soon, I think.

Pierre's guess was confirmed as the rasping voice of the train conductor could be heard from the direction of the corridor. "Twenty minutes to Junction City!" Good,[i/] the alchemist thought, sighing slightly as he relaxed into his seat. [i]I just 'ope zat our fellow passengers will be getting off 'ere.

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