(in no way is any of this true.)
A lone professor scribbled mixed notes and complex formulas on a chalk board. A child outside yelled about today’s news and what it entailed, which he cared little for. In the professor’s line of work politics and history mattered little. Only numbers and theories, some mixed idea that something else could be discovered just a throw stone away. And with so many scientists throwing stones, someone has to break glass at some point.
The year was 1898, spring had just arrived and the flowers were on bloom around the area Professor Mustang had purchased barely two years ago. A busy corner in London, full of noise and people, with a zest of life that is rarely seen elsewhere. Most professors stick to quiet, tame areas. But Mustang was as wild as his name, barely 21 when making his reach at wealth he followed his passion, science and discovery. Around him were three walls of library full of books of all kinds from philosophy to alchemy. The fourth was the chalkboard he wrote on. Etched into the book shelves were windows that looked outside. Across the room was the door into another study and then a hallway to the rest of the manor. He paused for a second and wiped the white chalk powder on his suit; being black it showed the chalk quite well. He thought silently glairing at the board as if it were something foreign he had yet to name. He spun around and picked up a tattered journal under several loose papers on a desk, which was in turn quite cluttered with notes and journal entries on several of his greatest works.
“This shall be my Magnus Opus, my greatest work.” He looked through the tattered journal as if it were a treasure. To a normal man the book looked worthless, only 21 pages that were in alchemical symbols and several languages that would need several translations to decipher. He skipped two pages and secured the book in his inner jacket pocket as if it were unimportant and just random notes when there was a knock at the door. “You may enter.” A young maid walked in. she had golden hair like his, and had blue eyes differing from his green eyes, which both locked for a few seconds. She was 18 and very small, shy, and had a way about the world as if Mustang was the only thing in the world.
She bowed politely and spoke softly. “There is a visitor sir, a Sir Germain Antal is here to see you.”
Mustang looked at her for a few seconds then nodded. “Send him in, I have a few questions for him.” She looked at the Alchemical symbols on the floors and board before meeting his eyes again.
“Yes Sir.” The girl bowed again and left the room quietly, Mustang looked at his board again intrigued by how much has changed in the last few days, it seemed amazing that one 21 page book would break so many windows that were so out of reach by the stones he was throwing.
The visitor came in, “Professor Eric Mustang, your speech about Perpetual Motion was amazing.” He glanced around the room. “I knew your true motives were in alchemy.” He smiled as if he was over confident, almost sure of himself even. But none the less the visitor was correct. His smile was wide and he showed gold capped incisors. Sleek and pale in an amazing suit that seemed to be more modern than the three piece suit Mustang preferred. The man seemed aged but had some kind of admiring youth with his years.
“The book you sent me, how did you know?”
“It’s something I’ve known for a long time.” The visitor said, still smiling. “It is a book Nicolas Flamel had made his life’s work. It is the same thing Newton studied more than his physics.”
The Maid walked in again with fresh tea, Mustang moved across the room quickly as the room went quiet. He removed papers from the table neatly and fast to make room for the tea. The maid set down the tea quietly for them and started to leave politely, as she did she tripped, Mustang caught her quickly. “Sir, i…”
“I had plenty of lessons in swordplay and dancing to catch you. Be more careful next time.” He patted her on the head and returned his focus on his guest. The maid left flustered.
“I would prefer whiskey.” The visitor smiled again, those lupine fangs. They seemed strange to Mustang, it was eerie and strange. Mustang lead his guest to the guest room. A wide fireplace with several chairs encircling it was the bulk of the room, a liquor cabinet and several other things to brighten the room for talk stood about in common fashions that were the usual for who owned such things. He got out whiskey and tumblers for Sir Antal. They sat down calmly, Mustang poured the glasses for the both of them.
Mustang noticed the chalk on his suit and chuckled, finally warming up to his visitor. “Back to the book Sir Antal, What was the purpose of giving me such a treasure, it shows so much alchemical knowledge and more that I would have laughed if someone sold it to me.