Olivier stood atop a cliff, one that the small city of Aarbon sat next to. He gazed out at the vast sea across from him, watching the moonlight shimmer on the waves. The smell of sea salt and the crashing of waves had a calming effect.
It had been a week since the two brothers returned to the past. Neither of them had made any moves in that time; Olivier was planning how to conquer the past, and he reasoned that his brother was altering his own plans.
Neither could move recklessly, nor could either truly practice alchemy yet.
They had both come of age in a city of alchemy that trained future alchemists. An Alchemist Familia was the terminology. In the wider world, it was considered a privilege to be from such a place, but neither Olivier nor Victor considered it as such.
Their Familia, the term for their fellow alchemists in the same town, were complacent old men in a world of innovation. Thinking back on his previous youth almost made him laugh.
"Get some rest." Olivier heard a voice from behind him. As he turned, his grayish-blue eyes almost seemed to mimic the moon above him.
What he heard was not a comforting voice, nor was it a harsh voice; it had an air of indifference, if anything. It was the voice of Olivier's father.
He was tall and had a square face; his short, dirty blonde hair stood in contrast to both of his sons' jet-black hair. He seemed to always have small bags under his eyes.
Olivier had treated the man with the same indifference he always had, even in his previous life. He thought that if there was any reason in the world he and his brother had turned out the way they had, it was because of him.
Their father, Samuel, was anything but a simple man. He seldom expressed his emotions, his family never came before alchemy and the pursuit of furthering his craft, and his children – he considered them part of that craft.
It was inconceivable that their mother could fall for such a man. That "why" was a question that Olivier had given up trying to solve hundreds of years ago. So he instead did what he always did: he listened to the man.
He didn't have any reason not to, not now and not then.
Olivier began the short trek back to their house as he noticed his father was watching the moon and the sea, just as he had been.
Their house was in the inner portion of the city. He walked past the few peasant houses dotted outside the walls, then towards the middle of the small city. While his family couldn't be considered rich, they certainly weren't poor.
"As the saying goes, a poor alchemist is a poor alchemist." He mused with a smile. "My father, despite his faults, is an excellent alchemist. At least for the heights that he was capable of reaching."
Olivier stood outside the door to their large house. It was a simple two-story dwelling that his father had inherited and had apparently been in the family for a few generations.
The young boy sighed and entered the house, immediately spotting his mother standing at the entrance.
"The ritual is tomorrow, honey." His mother, Isabelle, smiled warmly as she gently led him to the dining hall. "Your father doesn't want you to stay up late, so have some dinner and get some rest."
Victor sat at the other side of the grandiose table, calmly cutting up a piece of meat and watching his brother. Olivier ignored him in response.
Olivier had no idea what to think about being in the past; he didn't enjoy hating things – it was too bothersome and caused many issues down the line. Yet, he found himself being surrounded by many things he hated: his brother, his father, the city he grew up in… and now his mother.
He couldn't consider her his real mother because she wasn't. Besides his brother, nobody retained any of their future experiences. It was as if a memory were puppeteering her, and Olivier considered it vile. Of course, there was only one person responsible for it, so despite now disliking his mother, he didn't blame her.
It was a complicated feeling, he admitted to himself.
Olivier masked his hatred behind tranquil eyes as he calmly followed his brother's example and began his dinner. Hatred would only lead him down a path to being easily destroyed, so he would forgo his hatred.
In the last moments of his previous life, he had gotten angrier than he had in many years, and it disturbed him to think that his brother had any power over him. His brother had caused the anger, and it made Olivier play into his hands, even if ultimately that resulted in Victor's plotting going wrong.
So he erased that hatred that had been building up inside of him. As he had many times before.
After some time, their father joined them at the table. Their house servant quickly placed a plate in front of him.
"During the ritual tomorrow," Samuel intertwined his fingers as he watched both of his sons, "the rest of the town will be watching. From that moment on, you are truly a part of the Aarbon Familia, as well as an alchemist."
The ritual was nothing more than a test to determine how the saints would bind one's soul. A so-called Limit of Fate could be the death of an individual in a Familia if it were low enough. It described the upper limits of an alchemist, though if one were knowledgeable enough, they could break past them.
Many could never become an alchemist, however, if their Limit of Fate were nonexistent.
Olivier would begin his plans as soon as he received his grading, since he would be considered an alchemist, which had its own benefits. His eyes darted towards his brother.
"He'll start his plans too."
Olivier had been able to guess what his brother would do, simply because it was the only logical thing to do.
There was going to be a race. Hidden across the nearby lands were ancient relics, whether they were simply lost by wandering alchemists or by those in town didn't matter. What mattered was that in their past life, as time went on, some had been found by a lucky few.
A relic would be able to grant them boons to help with their alchemy. It'd be like a jumpstart, and whoever stood out the most would gain the most influence in the city.
In Olivier's previous life, after he had left the city, he came back a few years later to investigate a particular matter. He had spent a lot of time investigating the city's history and the major events that occurred there. Now that it was hundreds of years ago, he had forgotten most of it.
As such, Olivier had spent the last week plotting down what he could remember to figure out which relics would be most beneficial to his alchemist's path.
He was certain, though, that his brother had investigated the matter more "recently." If that were the case, most of Aarbon's history would have been lost. That's typically what happens when a city gets razed to the ground.
"So it seems likely to be another thing we'll have even footing on." Olivier's mind raced as he poked at his food. His thoughts were paused by their mother suddenly speaking.
"What happened between you two?" Isabelle muttered with a furrowed brow, "For the past week, the two of you have done nothing but glare at each other. Your father may pretend not to notice, but I'll be damned if I say nothing about it."
She placed her palms flat on the table as she looked sternly at the two.
"You came home with cuts on your arms, and now you barely talk to each other." She began to tap her fingers as their father leaned back in his chair. His eyes scanned the faces of the two boys.
"We're just worried about the test," Victor said, his background in royalty almost shining through in his soft speech. Though quiet and refined, it exuded confidence. "We got into a fight, and that's it. Right, Olivier?"
From now on, every conversation between the two would be a little duel of words. So, without skipping a beat, Olivier responded.
"Yes, Victor and I were dabbling in simplified alchemy by the cliff and got into an argument."
Their mother sighed with exhaustion and realized that she should just leave it there. In her mind, she thought that boys would be boys. As much as she would like for them not to fight, it wouldn't have been the first time they'd come home hurt.
Their father, however, watched Olivier with a blank stare, his eyes bore into his son's skull.
"What was the argument about?" He curtly asked.
"Olivier wanted to use witherstalk in a fire equation. I told him it would destabilize it." Victor took the opportunity to write the narrative before Olivier could even respond to their father.
It would make his brother look almost pathetic in his alchemy skills.
Witherstalk, hence the first half of its name, had a nasty habit of causing instability in alchemical equations, especially one as dynamic and unstable as a fire equation. It could cause fire to wither away very quickly. In the context of a fire equation, it was entirely counterintuitive to include it as an ingredient.
Olivier remained calm as he spoke, "It was for fire suppression if Victor had been paying attention. The more volatile alchemical equations always eluded him, so I thought maybe he could use a bit of help. I suppose he didn't take kindly to it, though. It's okay, we're both worried about the test, so I forgive him."
"Why would I think it was for fire suppression when it's only simple alchemy. One can only do so much with it." Victor shrugged as he looked at the food.
"Doesn't mean I can't theory craft for later." Olivier retorted.
Victor conceded with a slight smile, and their father eyed the two. If he knew that more was going on, he didn't speak about it. Instead, he simply started cutting into his food; it had grown cold.
After dinner, the two went to their shared room and slipped into their beds. Both of them were still unused to their old room and their old trinkets. Their father taught them all about alchemy before most children were ever clued in, so they had diagrams spread all throughout the area.
While it wasn't illegal to teach children alchemy, especially not in a Familia, most families chose to do it the year before the trial. This would allow their children to have a semblance of a normal childhood.
The two had spoken only a few times since they re-awoke in their childhood. As they got into their room, they briefly spoke about the upcoming ritual. It didn't take long for them to go back to silence.
The crickets outside echoed as the city slept.
"I've been thinking about it, Olivier," Victor called out while staring at the ceiling. His brother didn't respond as he watched the moon from their window.
"Consequences be damned, I know you would have killed me a week ago if that strange phenomenon didn't take place." He placed his hand over where the cut used to be; the spot was now only a tiny scar. "I think our souls have been bonded."
"The taboo," Olivier said as he finally looked over at Victor.
"Yes, my taboo. As far as consequences go, I can't say I really mind it – especially considering the things I've heard have happened. But it's extremely restrictive for both of us. Think about it, in a year or so, when the duels take place, how will we fight?"
Olivier watched his brother purse his lips in thought.
"I've thought about it, but I don't know. As much as I dislike your company, the town can't learn about a soul-bonding taking place. They'd put this family in a crucible, and I assume that, for the sake of our plans, that would be a catastrophe." Olivier closed his eyes with a sigh.
He still wasn't used to his younger body. It was entirely mortal with no modifications from alchemy enhancing it, meaning he found himself growing tired very quickly. He considered sleep a waste of time, but his body needed it right now. It'd need it for a long while, too.
"Well, in our future fights - physical or not - let's parlay if either of us comes up with a solution. I assume you wouldn't mind getting rid of the thing stopping you from killing me." Victor let out a grin.
"You'd assume correctly," Olivier muttered as he let himself fall asleep.