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Who: Maiza Avaro and Firo Prochainezo
What: A chat between friends
When: The evening of July 11th
Where: Good Spirits
Summary: Maiza and Firo meet for their usual drink and get into talking about Maiza's past.
Rating: PG, probably. Will change if needed.

The near-constant boredom and aching homesickness aside, there are a couple things Firo does like about Luceti. Being able to drink in peace with Maiza is one of them. They've shared plenty before back home in Alveare, but that place was rarely as peaceful as Luceti.

There's a lull in the conversation, and Firo relishes in the companionable silence before a question springs to mind. It's been bouncing around his head for a while, but he always shoved it back.

He clears his throat. "Hey, Maiza, I was wonderin'..." He glances down at his drink, swirling it around. They did say they'd talk about it one day, and he supposes that now is as good a time as they'll ever get. "If you don't mind..."

Oh, just spit it out already. He sets his glass down on the table--a tad too hard, though he doesn't mean to--and looks up at Maiza. "I was wonderin' if you'd tell me about your life. Before everything with the Advenna Avis and all."

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Firo smiles again, partly because Maiza isn't annoyed (of course he's not; it's Maiza) and partly with because it's just nice to see him happy and laughing. He has to admit, he had been worried about it being a potentially sore subject.

He leans forward, unable to hide his interest. "Alchemists? So that's how you met the others?" This is a point where he probably could dig into Szilard's memories and get an answer--they're clearer than the others--but he doesn't. It'll be more pleasant hearing it from Maiza.

"Yes, and no. To be honest, I didn't know some of the alchemists aboard that ship until a few days before our voyage."

He tries to remember their names, but many of them are faint now, even if immortality expanded his memory. He wishes he still had that roster, so someone could remember them.

"... Actually, to explain how I came to meet them, I'll have to tell you about the not as pleasant parts of the town. Honestly, it isn't the sort of place I miss."

He blinks, wondering how they all came to be on that ship together. With the benefit of hindsight, going on such a voyage with a bunch of strangers doesn't seem like such a good idea. But then again, Firo supposes it does happen every day with the immigrants coming to New York, even if those ships are simply for transportation and not alchemical rituals.

After taking a sip of his drink, he offers a wry smile. "Well, no need to sugarcoat it on my account." He's seen a lot of the "not as pleasant" parts of his city in his short life. He doubts the shady areas of Lotto Valentino would be much different from the slums of his childhood. "...Though you don't hafta talk about it too much if you don't wanna."

If it makes Maiza uncomfortable, he doesn't want to force him to relive too much of that. Then again, they are both Martillo capos. Shady is something Maiza surely can deal with.

"Well." He pauses, but it's not a pause born from discomfort or uncertainly, merely one taken to find the words to explain. "A few years before I left that town, someone began creating and distributing fake gold to the people. Anyone not involved didn't realize they were fake... and one day, the commoners used that gold to 'buy' the town from the nobles. Since then, those who had the power were the commoners who had the money. Even the town's so-called police were their side.

"... It was quiet but lively there. People came and went, and nobody was starving. Still, Lotto Valentino... was a very corrupted town."

Firo wouldn't have thought a counterfeiting operation could ever be that big or successful. That's not all that makes his eyes widen as he stares at Maiza. "The normal people were the ones in charge?"

He shakes his head. "I've never heard if it workin' that way anywhere." He has no illusions about their government back home, thought perhaps his perception is overly pessimistic. "So by "bought" the town, you mean they bribed everybody..?" It's the explanation that makes the most sense to him. You can't really buy a town, but you can buy its officials and law enforcement.

"That's right. The police on the surface still worked under the nobles and favored them, but ultimately their loyalty laid with those who had money. There were many nobles who weren't happy with that, so the upset sons would form groups in which they'd wander the streets, causing troubles. Kind of like the thugs you see in New York."

He takes a drink, still at ease as he tells his tale. "My family was one of the more influential families in Lotto Valentino. Of course, my father wasn't the governor, but we were higher up than some of the rest."

Firo nods; he knows an unhappy rich brat, doesn't he? "Like Dallas?" He frowns; Dallas is fresh in his mind after the "kidnapping" and he doesn't like the reminder that he should be back home hunting down that no good bastard.

"Really?" Maiza certainly is different from the rough guys Firo saw growing up, but he never suspected that he came from a noble family. He doesn't stop to consider it too long, and pushes down the memories that try to surface. "It's kinda hard for me to picture you as anything other than a Camorrista."

It takes Maiza a moment to remember who Firo's referring to, and he nods. "Yes, like him."

He can't help but laugh quietly at Firo's comment. He can sort of understand how his friend feels, and he thinks he can agree, too. But he also remembers that how he acts now is much more suited to his old status than how he had used to before becoming an alchemist.

"It was a long time ago. I don't think I ever liked my upbringing much, and my father certainly did not appreciate me either. Unhappy as I was with the state of the city and rebelling against him, I started a group called the Rotten Eggs. I suppose I've always had a tendency to be involved with gangs."

Firo wants to say that any father who didn't appreciate Maiza wasn't worth it anyway, but he holds his tongue. Difficult relationship or not, Maiza might not appreciate Firo insulting his long dead family. He can't keep from frowning, though, so Maiza might be able to guess his thoughts easily enough.

An instant later he's blushing as he realizes he just unwittingly compared Maiza to a thoroughly unpleasant human being. "I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean..." He shakes his head as if trying to slough off the embarrassment. "S-so what did you guys do? Were any of the people on the boat in it with you?"

He doesn't really catch on to why Firo is blushing. Sure, he's heard the tale of Dallas Genoard since the incident and he can agree that the man was very unpleasant, but much of that, to him, doesn't compare to the shock and anger he'd felt from seeing Szilard Quates, or the relief that he was finally gone, or the terror when he realized his friends were immortal. In the end he felt relief, too, but the bottom line was that he can't even remember Dallas' face. He decides to just smile in response to Firo's apology.

"We did what most group of thugs did. Cause some fights, harass some people -- though mostly those were done by others. I wasn't really looking to cause trouble, personally; I only started it because I'd realized that there was something wrong with the city, but as a noble, I had far too little power to fix it. I thought being something else might help...

"And to answer your question, no. None of those people were on the ship with me. In fact, but the time we boarded the Advenna Avis, I wasn't even a part of the group anymore."

Having a lot of respect for the man, it's strange for Firo to hear Maiza admit not having the power to change a situation. There's Gretto's death and, to an extent, some of Szilard's rampage, but for most of the time Firo's known the man he's seemed well in control. He nods along, but doesn't say anything to that part. His friend's a strong guy; Firo thinks he doesn't need assurance that things are different now.

Firo realizes in the back of his mind that he should be quiet and let Maiza tell his story, but his curiosity gets the better of him. "You left it?" Or maybe it was wiped out. He doesn't want to state that possibility out loud; Maiza's lost enough friends already.

"I left it. Let's see... I think it was about 1707. That was the year." He smiles at the memory. "It was at a party hosted by my father. I was speaking with an old friend of mine, Jean-Pierre, when we met some of Begg's friends. ... Aah, you might find the name familiar. Begg was on the ship, and he's also in Jersey, I believe. Working under Mr. Bartolo of the Runorata Family. Anyway."

He takes a drink.

"Begg himself wasn't there, but Lebreau was. They studied alchemy under the same man, and they had correspondence with my father. While Begg was talking to him, Lebreau was at the party babysitting their teacher's kid. That was when I first met Czeslaw, actually."

"He is?" Funny how some immortals still manage to run into each other in such a big world. Though Szilard and maybe Czeslaw didn't wind up in New York by accident, as far as Firo knows.

There's that name again. Lebreau. Maiza mentioned it once before and Firo tried to dismiss it as a coincidence. He hasn't tried peeking into the memories connected with that name since, and he definitely didn't try asking Czes about it. He nods, deciding not to bring up the memories this time.

"Czes? What was he like as a kid?" Sometimes he still thinks of Czes as a kid--it's hard not to--but then he'll spout off some weird fact or give Firo a funny look and he remembers just how old the "kid" really is.

"Oh yeah. And there are others, scattered here and there. I was thinking about asking the Don to let me go look for them, sometime, since Szilard is gone now. But that's for another time.

"Czes as a kid... well, you remember how he was like around Christmastime, yeah? That was him, maybe give or take a few years. He was real shy and also small so I think I intimidated him the first time we met. Good kid though."

He laughs. He decides he'll spare Czeslaw the humiliation and keep quiet about how he screamed like a girl when they first met his teacher that night. Maiza, unlike Firo and Czes, really has no idea what sort of man Lebreau really is, but he does add as a warning: "... Try not to mention Lebreau around Czeslaw too much."

He nods, making a mental note to ask Maiza about that later. It'd be nice for the guy to meet up with old friends, but Firo has to wonder if all of them are completely safe.

"Really? He was so... different. I could barely get him to say a word to me." Not that they have the best relationship now, but the usual Czes would have taunted him or ignored him, not hid from him.

His jaw tightens as Lebreau is brought up again. Maybe Czes is sad to have lost his guardian? He did get eaten at some point. Or maybe there's another reason. He looks down at his drink, swirling it around as he thinks. "...Why's that?"

"Czeslaw comes from a family of alchemists. His grandfather used to lead that guild, but he and both of Czes' parents lost their lives when he was barely five years old. It was an accident, or so I heard. Lebreau was the one who took it upon himself to look after him since then, so he was always by his side."

Even that night on the ship, Czeslaw was probably calm only because he had that man with him. His decision back then, to go along with Maiza's plan, was also made because Lebreau voiced his agreement first. They were really close.

"I don't know what happened to them after we reached North America, but when I contacted him again he was alone, and of course he must have gone through a lot of hardships over the centuries. I wouldn't want to make him relive anything that's painful for him. Until he's ready to talk to us on his own, at least."

"...I didn't know that." He knows how it feels to lose one's parents young, but Czes was even younger than he was and lost both at once. He'd assumed the kid's parents were dead or vanished or never in the picture, but he didn't actually think about how it happened and what Czes went through.

He wonders if not bringing up his concerns to Maiza counts as being dishonest. Faint memories and the terrible feelings attached to him are all he has to go on; he doesn't want to bring it up and concern Maiza for nothing. "Y-yeah, I can see why you'd wanna wait for him to be ready."

Even if Firo brought it up, Maiza would probably stop him because that sort of thing is Czeslaw's story to tell. Maiza has absolutely no idea what actually happened, but even he suspects that something must be up that Czes, who stuck to Lebreau like glue, hasn't brought him up a single time despite dropping topics about Elmer C. Albatross here and there or nonchalantly commenting on Huey Laforet's mysteriousness occasionally.

He moves on.

"... Lebreau and Begg were acquainted with the owner of one of the libraries in Lotto Valentino. That one library didn't have a name, but we called it the Third Library in the days we used it. Anyway, the two of them invited Jean and me along, so I followed. That was when I first met Dalton Strauss, the one-handed owner of the library -- and the immortal head of the hidden school of alchemists."

Firo relaxes slightly when Maiza moves on. He'll try and forget about Lebreau for now, maybe forever. It's not like the guy can hurt anyone now; he was eaten.

"A one-handed alchemist... Sounds like somethin' out of a story." He doesn't say it to be dismissive, but to express his wonder. Having grown up borrowing books about fantasy and adventure from his friends, he can't help but make the comparison. His introduction into the world of alchemy was rather hurried, and even with the memories of so many alchemists, some aspects of it are still fresh to him.

"It does, doesn't it? I remember Elmer liked to insist that Professor Dalton wore his prosthetic that was shaped like a hook so he'd look like a pirate."

It's a fond memory, one of the few that he has of a hometown he doesn't quite miss or feel homesick about. There are plenty of regrets, but he's been able to move on from it.

"He had that hook on that night, too. I found out he was immortal because he took it and slit his own throat with it. Really, it was a shocking sight, and I'm glad he at least had the sensibility to tell us to cover Czes' eyes."

Firo laughs, "You can't wear somethin' like that and not expect to look like a pirate." He doesn't know if Captain Hook as a character had been created yet, but maybe the concept had been around longer than the book.

Smile fading, Firo's eyes widen. "...Geez, really? That's... I guess it gets the message across, but it seems a little overkill." Pun not intended. "Couldn't he have just scratched himself with it?"

"Nah, he put that one on for Elmer too. Usually he's got a normal one that looks like a hand." He laughs, smiling still even as Firo's fades. "He's probably just dramatic.

"I asked him to let me learn alchemy from him immediately after. When I did, he told me to fix up my attitude, so I've been acting this way--" (he gestures to himself) "--since around that time."

At Maiza's remark, the ghost of an amused smile crosses his face. "There really are some eccentric people out there..." There's just dramatic, and then there's dramatic enough to cause yourself great amounts of pain for a demonstration. Firo thinks they're in a different class.

Firo mutters to himself, shaking his head in disbelief. "Somebody told you to fix your attitude..." Even with Maiza saying he used to be a troublemaker, Firo finds the image hard to grasp. "And that's when you started to learn about all that alchemy stuff?"

"That's right. I studied under him for about four years, although it usually wasn't with the classes. I mostly used the books and did my own studies, since I couldn't come in at regular times. It was in 1709, I believe... that things started growing strange in the city. It's always been a little strange, but even that was changing.

"There was a powerful family named the Dormentaire that came into Lotto Valentino in search of someone. I don't know exactly what happened, but they stayed in the city for a year. After that... it appears they came to consider the city their enemy."

"Did the rest of your family didn't know about it?" He's guessing that's why Maiza had to schedule his studies differently. Whether Gretto, specifically, knew is something he's curious about, but he doesn't ask.

"Huh... Were the people in the city gettin' in their way or somethin'? Who'd they wanna find, anyway?" Maybe someone who stole from them, that'd tick them off, right?

"I didn't speak to my father very often.

"I don't know all of the details. I wasn't told who they were looking for either, but I do know that someone bombed the buildings under Dormentaire control that time. They couldn't identify the culprit, but even if they had, they would still have targeted the entire town. They're a very proud family."

Had he a different upbringing, Firo would probably burst out that it's unfair to declare a whole town your enemies when only one or a handful of people were to blame for the incident. Thinking about that as a camorrista, however, he thinks he can see the logic.

"I guess that makes sense. They needed to send the right message, is that it?" It's what they would do if a single thug in some small time street gang hurt one of their guys; they'd declare war on the whole. "So what did they do?"

"That, too, but I suppose greed also worked into it. Alchemists aren't the only people who like gold and immortality. Anyway, they took command of all the important businesses and buildings in the town and tried to make Lotto Valentino their own. They suspected every ship that came in or went out of the harbor... so we decided that if we were going to attempt to create the elixir, it shouldn't be on land."

Firo nods as he begins to understand what Maiza's getting at. "...Smart." Despite what eventually became of the voyage, he's not being sarcastic at all. The tragedy was because Szilard was there, not because of the setting.

"Aren't there some ships that do stuff like that back home?" But with alcohol, of course. A few stills and some innocent malt syrups or yeasts aren't too hard to load onto a ship, and once it's out of American waters, well, who cares what they do with their supplies?

He nods in response to Firo's question. He's certainly right about that. Taking it out to sea was not a new or very original idea, but it worked many times.

"Professor Dalton arranged the ship for us, as well as the list of people who would be boarding it with me. Some people like my brother and Sylvie weren't on the original list, but they came along for their own reasons as well. Huey Laforet and Elmer's names were included on a separate list. But the chaos began before that... someoe had caused trouble with the Dormentaire again. Things were already looking bad between that family and the town, but now they were starting to target alchemists exclusively. By the time we left, most alchemists had fled from the city using the sewer system, and we were hiding out underground for a few days, too."

Because Maiza hadn't mentioned them joining in his studies, Firo was wondering where Gretto and Sylvie came into it. He nods, then his mouth drops open as Maiza gets to the rest of the story.

"Underground? Damn..." It certainly sounds like an adventure. Or a big hassle. "They didn't look there?"

"It's hardly in use. In fact, by that year it was a place for the grave keepers to dump the bones from the cemetery once it got too filled, I think. The Dormentaires, at least, didn't know about it until the end, so it kept us safe until we finally escaped from a cave connected to the tunnels onto our ship.

"... Needless to say, I haven't been back there since, so I didn't get to fulfill what I originally became an immortal for."

"That's kinda morbid..." Firo's no stranger to death, but he thinks even he would be uncomfortable hanging around underground with a bunch of bones.

"Any idea what happened to everybody? You said it became a place for tourists..." But that's not exactly what he's curious about; he wants to know where the conflict between the classes went and what happened with the Dormentaires. Whatever story he expected, it wasn't something quite like this. He feels like he's getting even more questions as it goes on.

"Oh yeah. It wasn't pleasant. But compared to getting arrested... most of the alchemists who lived in the city fled. Those of us who stayed were the ones that sought the elixir."

Maiza falls silent there, not from the emotions but mostly because... he doesn't know. For the first many years after the voyage, they'd all hidden. He was too busy grieving, he remembers, to care about what happened to the city he felt less love for than he felt duty, about the father that he didn't have any serious remorse about leaving. He had lost the one family he truly cared about, and there was no heaven that he norGretto could've gone to -- Gretto was stuck inside Szilard (and now, Firo)'s body, and Maiza had a life that was destined never to go anywhere but inside another immortal's. What had happened of the town? of the Dormentaire's? No book he ever looked at centuries after had ever said. He'd always been afraid of touching on that topic with Molsa.

"I'm afraid I don't know. It wasn't... there were other things on my mind after. They didn't leave many records, and none I've been able to find out a lot from."

Of course he had a lot of things on his mind. Firo nods quickly, feeling guilty for asking without thinking of what sort of events it could cause Maiza to dwell on. "Right, right. Sorry."

He sinks back into his chair. "...That's a pretty incredible story." He didn't know much about Maiza's side of everything that happened and now his head is almost spinning with all the action.

"You think so?" He smiles, leaning back in his seat and taking another sip of his drink.

"I guess it is rather fascinating to hear for the first time, huh? I wasn't sure if I was a good storyteller so I hope I didn't bore you."

Firo smiles back and nods firmly. "You'd never bore me!" And the story itself was fascinating. You can't make something like that up.

He imagines that it wasn't completely easy for Maiza, so he says sincerely, "Thank you. I mean it."

It isn't a story he would tell just anyone, he thinks as he nods in response to Firo's thanks. It wasn't as difficult as he thought it would be, but bringing the memories to the front of his mind again wasn't easy.

"... It was nice to get if off my chest, too. Thanks for listening."

Hearing Maiza benefited from it makes Firo feel even better. "Hey, there's no need to thank me. That's what we do, right?"

Mushy as it sounds.

"Hm. I guess you're right. I did meet the don when I we sat down once and I listened to his entire life story."

Maybe he'll tell the man his own, too, someday. He files that thought away for when they get home.

"Still, I appreciate it."

Firo blinks. The don does seem more relaxed and open than is typical for someone leading a crime family, but Firo's still surprised to hear about them meeting like that. "Really? That's how you guys met?" Maiza's already spilled so much for him that he thinks he shouldn't press for details, but the question still slips out.

He keeps on grinning to hear that. "I'm glad. Sometimes..." Sometimes people do need to talk about their problems, it seems. If he thinks back to right before he was dragged to Luceti, Maiza helped him feel better by making him spill his feelings.

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