November 26th, 1908, Ruined Northern Sector, Gunja, Amestris – Visha POV
In the first mission a month ago, the 203rd had been relatively silent and tried to focus on the next objective and the mission: they could hardly breathe when the entire front and the future of Amestris was at stake. On their subsequent mission in Gunja a few days earlier, they had tried to have some light banter and comments about the enemy or the way the battle was going. Still, it felt forced; they had no problems with laughing and talking about their day when in their barracks, but for their elite team, it all felt superficial. There had been no “banter” when their commander brutally trained them in the frozen mountains north of Riviere.
Now no one said much, they did not have to.
Visha had spoken with the soldiers under her command and the leaders of the other Platoons and they all agreed that there was not much need to fill their radios with idle chatter or quips to make up for nerves or dead air. The Battalion was disciplined, organized, and efficient and the communication only worked to undermine that by making things more difficult for people needing updates or support. Every one of them wanted to give their 110% to the Lieutenant Colonel and if the pointless talk made them even 1% less effective, it was too much.
More importantly, it made Lieutenant Colonel Degurechaff more hesitant to issue commands, and no one in the unit dared to interfere with their commander’s ability to lead.
As such – except for status updates or orders from their Commander – the radio was silent.
[Battalion, this is Gnome. Cleared sector G13 until crossroads. Holding for orders.]
[Battalion, this is Scroll. Held the G21 critical point against assault. 348th Rifle is holding. Will continue with clearing G20.]
[Battalion, this is Silver. No changes to report. Our supply lines have still not been attacked. Will continue until relieved by the 354th Cavalry as ordered.]
Next to Visha, the Commander nodded with a smile on her face.
“Alright, Gnome, your orders are to push into G20 from the north. G13 was an easy clear and if the enemy is foolish enough to try and take it again… all the better. Silver, you are approaching an area the 354th was ambushed yesterday. Have a team take point as bait and try to lure or scout the enemy in case they try again. Scroll, continue as planned and link up with Gnome. Understood?”
[Yes Commander!]
Visha let out a brilliant smile. She knew her decision to keep idle talk to a minimum was the right one.
‘Ever since then, Tanya’s been really taking charge and organizing us into a ruthless fighting force! Our progress in taking Gunja has increased by more than 100% since we started! Sure, the enemy is not the “peer adversary” – as the Commander would put it – like the chimera we faced on our first mission, but the experience is still important. By quickly taking control of the area from the enemy and bolstering our nearby allied forces, we are using less “Mental Willpower” than normal. We can then save our strength for the potential big threats like the Ishvalan Combat Monks or-’
A shot rang out and a soldier from the 412th Rifle Company that was accompanying them fell in a pool of blood. While the rest of the soldiers of the company jumped behind buildings and into cover, the 203rd Pixie Platoon stayed in the open and surveyed the area on the lookout for the threat.
‘-Or the occasional sniper.’
Visha turned to the Commander.
“Orders?”
Tanya looked around at the confusion and panic of their supporting Battalion and sighed. She got on the radio.
“Pixie-4 and 5, keep holding down the north-eastern ring road. You’ll be seeing the enemy falling back that way soon. Pixie-3. Keep those rebels suppressed in the east. Pixie-2 will cover the rear while our Pixie-1 and 6 will swing down from the south and flank them.”
The crack of a rifle sounded again in the distance and she saw several members of the 412th to her east start a panicked retreat down the road behind her. Tanya shook her head and turned to Visha.
“The sniper must be in the building west of the intersection: its the only point that could have made that last shot. That sniper is going to cause the collapse of our supporting Company at this rate… No choice, use a Destroy.”
With a smile and a nod, the 1st Lieutenant did as she was ordered. She took out her new Karabiner 98 and took aim through the 4x optical scope. With a single pull of the trigger, the entire top of the building was obliterated.
However, the moment she did so, eight strong-looking Ishvalans in robes rushed out from the alleyways around them! A trap! She heard Tanya yell out.
“Close! Close!”
It was a simple command, but anything more complicated would have only caused more to confuse than help. At Tanya’s yell, the nearby soldiers all ran away. They knew what was going to happen next.
Next to her, Visha could see in the corner of her eyes that Tanya had just pulled the pins on two grenades and threw them at the rapidly approaching enemy. At the same time, the other three nearby members of Pixie-1 threw grenades as well, only these were practically at their own feet. Without any time to react, Visha did not have time to do the same, instead, she played the secondary role of the maneuver. She threw her rifle onto her back and took out her machinegun, but she was a little too slow to fire it in time.
Instead – all at once – explosions rocked the alleyway, blanketing the area in thick dust, but it did not stop there. Now, Visha finally fired her machinegun into the clouds as more grenades were thrown and detonated. By the time that the third round of grenades exploded, she could feel the nearby buildings collapse. After about a minute, they stopped and they waited for any movement or sound. Another tension-filled minute passed and the smoke began to clear.
Now they could see the results of their new training in Close-Quarters-Combat. The ruined corpses of the 8 monks filled the street. In contrast, they had not suffered a single casualty as they simply used their Deflect as normal. With the grenades sending shrapnel and debris everywhere, the monks had no chance closing in on them. Normally, they could dodge around the machinegun fire or throw back the grenades, but they were afforded no opportunity for either. Either they kept their distance and lost the opportunity of surprise and were either killed by reinforcements at the flanks or machine gun fire from inside the smoke, or they were obliterated by the grenades they would be need to rush into to reach them.
Tanya smiled and turned to Visha.
“Well, I think that concludes another successful “trial” of the “Close-In Maneuver”, don’t you think?”
She grinned in response.
“Yes Commander! They’re a month late in trying to catch us off guard!”
As they laughed, the soldiers of the 412th Rifle Battalion started slowly returning. Considering the circumstances, while Visha felt a little guilty for having the constantly rushing for cover, at the same time, they should be glad the 203rd was on their side.
---
November 27th, 1908, 94th Brigade Forward Operating Base, Gunja, Amestris – Tanya POV
Tanya sat at a fold-out chair and desk in her tent, writing requisition requests for her Battalion as well as organizing the next round of offensives. As the only Staff Officer in the Battalion, the one in charge of maintenance and R&D of the Operation Orb, as well as a front line soldier, she was burdened with triple-duties and had to spend her precious time off trying to catch up on her paperwork. At least she was banking up a rather healthy sum of funds she would no doubt be investing once these back-to-back wars were over.
The 203rd was finally relieved from active duty after almost a week of intense fighting. Tanya had the “luxury” of a cold shower, a fresh uniform and a full night’s sleep. With a fresh cup of coffee made by her Adjutant, she was refreshed and ready to take on the day again.
While the work was tough, it had never felt more rewarding. Unlike the Western Front or their first mission, the goals were straightforwards, the missions were reasonable and – most importantly – there was no risk of sudden foreign wunderwaffe to contend with the Operation Orb’s absolute supremacy on the battlefield. Their work – and the lives of their fellow countryman they saved – was limited only by the number of hours a day they could use the Orb; a number that got larger and larger as she developed new tactics and procedures.
‘I’m just glad the Battalion stopped being so cavalier and casual about everything. While it is important to stay optimistic, would it be so hard for these warmongers to have a little introspection? A War – especially a Civil War – is a failure. It is a failure of forethought by the leaders, a failure of unity by society, and a failure of compromise by the instigators. I wish my subordinates would at least point out the glaring issues with this conflict: about the wasted resources, the tactics, the politics, anything. I know there is nothing we can do, but it is also no good for them to completely dehumanize their enemy. I hope they aren’t thinking situations like these are normal.’
She was no robot and she was certainly no warmonger. She had her reservations about the war and why it was still being fought. About her place in everything and the responsibility she had as a citizen. That being said, she was not someone who advocated “peace at all costs” either. It was clear to her that Amestris was forming similar to Imperial Japan or Germany: surrounded by enemies and with factions eager to see war as the “hammer” for every socioeconomic “nail”.
‘Now that this war has gone on for so long, it’s too late to stop. Too many Amestrians have died for the people to compromise. For the Ishvalans, it’s clearly a matter of survival made only more heinous by the fact that they are boxed in by mountains or desert. Refugees fleeing are just as likely to die in the effort than escape. Could I even help the Ishvalans? Could I rebel against the incompetence of the State that allowed this to happen? No. To aid the weakened Ishvalans is just to condemn more Amestrian soldiers to death and to fuel the nations hatred even more and scapegoat myself in the process. That is what’s so heinous about war; why there are rules: it can feed on charity just as much as it does on violence, on good intentions and bad. And even the concept of rebelling against the nation that has given me so much-’
She shook her head. She had been having more of these uncharacteristically anti-estabilishmentarian thoughts lately, but it just left her thinking in circles. Fundamentally, she trusted in a rational society to maintain itself, but what if the system itself was flawed? How can someone from inside such a system fix it without causing more damage in the process?
‘I need to take a walk.’
She stood up from the desk and walked out of the tent. As she did so, she gave a nod to her Adjutant who sat just outside and under the shade of the extended flap that protruded out of the entrance-way. As she did so, the 1st Lieutenant made to stand.
“Lieutenant Colonel, are you-”
Tanya waved away her question.
“I’m just going for a walk. Sorry, but you will have to man the post while I’m gone in case anyone has messages or requests.”
Her Adjutant smiled and gave her a crisp salute.
“Of course, I would be honored! I’m glad you’re not organizing our operations all day like you used to. It isn’t right for the Battalion to monopolize all of your time. You should do what you want.”
Tanya frowned.
‘What does she mean by that? It’s my job to- Ah, I couldn’t recognize it since we normally have such a good relationship. She must be sarcastic and thinking I’m just skimping out on work! All the stress and effort planning for that first suicidal mission must have set a precedent that I have to work 12 hours a day with no rest or else I am not giving my all. Damn, I have to nip this in the bud or I will never have any time to myself.’
Tanya shook her head.
“The Battalion will always be the number one priority for so long as I am in charge. You can rest assured that I intend to do whatever I can to avoid any more causalities or deaths in the future. This walk is just a means of gaining a different perspective with a change in scenery. I promise that I will be thinking through a number of strategies and tactics as I do. Don’t worry, I’m always working, even if I don’t always look like I am.”
Viktoriya Serebryakova frowned.
“That’s not what I… well alright. Have a good walk. I hope that between your strategies you are able to relax a little.”
Tanya nodded in response. While she was not confident her subordinate did not pick up on her ruse, she was at least confident that her reputation as an adequate commander was still intact.
‘I’ll have to be more careful from now on. I’ll need to slowly reign in their expectations or I’ll never get any rest!’
As she walked through the base, she tried to familiarize herself with the people there. There was little joy in the camp as one would expect. Some men were playing cards, some men took the time off to rest while others sat in small circles talking with one-another. None of them looked very happy to be there, but these were the people she was fighting to project. It was sad that she needed this reminder of what this war was being fought for. While there could no longer be any compromise between Ishval and Amestris, there was still an opportunity to save the human resources here before their value was wasted by the shortsightedness of the State.
‘Perhaps when I am promoted enough to be safely back in the rear, I can do something to make sure a war like this never happens again…’
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a familiar face storm out from one of the social-circles. It was Major Mustang, Captain Hughes and an unfamiliar female soldier. She walked towards him, but the group moved in the opposite direction faster than she could match and she decided to give up on saying hi. He probably had some place to be.
She immediately felt guilty, she too had a tent to sit in and important documents to process.
Before she turned around and made her way back, however, she saw one more familiar face.
“Major Kimblee, is that you?”
---
November 27th, 1908, 94th Brigade Forward Operating Base, Gunja, Amestris – Kimblee POV
Major Solf J. Kimblee – the Crimson Alchemist – watched as Roy, Maes and Riza left in frustration after their conversation with him. It was inevitable. As soon as he pointed out their hypocrisy, they could only run away with their tails between their legs.
‘It’s understandable. Really, I empathize with them… well, as much as I can comprehend the emotions of naive “conformists”. Their lofty “goals” and “aspirations” are borne of a hatred for the Rules of Nature: Survival of the Fittest, Might makes Right. Inevitably they encounter contradictions and overcomplicate the simple facts of life. Right, wrong, good, bad? The answers are obvious: they’re whatever I want them to be. If I want to kill someone, the only thing stopping me is if doing so will get me killed in return. Why make things more complicated than that?’
Of course, the Crimson Alchemist was no longer a boy. He no longer killed the small, “pitiful” animals in the forest near his home or indulged his base needs in excess like a kid given free reign in a candy store. He was intelligent and resourceful. He worked, and studied and found new, more exciting ways to kill. He found new hobbies and new philosophies and grew into a hedonist that savored a delicious “steak” rather than a starving mutt that gorged on “potatoes” to survive.
He methodically chose his career and painstakingly searched for superiors that appreciated his “skills” and let him indulge when he wanted. His efforts had paid off. Only a few hours earlier; the State gave him something he only thought was just a legend: the Philosopher’s Stone. He had his doubts about how capable it truly was – nothing could live up to the legends – but while the Generals and Doctors were sometimes boastful, they rarely outright lied. He itched to test out the quality and quantity of explosions he could make with it.
‘Damn, when will that stupid bell sound to send me back to the frontlines?! Normally, the Top Brass are so eager to have us fighting and killing one-another, so what is the hold up for-’
He turned and saw the slowly approaching form of a child. A smile bloomed on his face. The stern expression that did not fit the soft, pudgy features of a child was like looking a younger version of himself.
‘Ah, well if it isn’t my favorite heretic. Ah, and she’s a Lieutenant Colonel now? It seems I was right; she’s far better at pretending than I am. A certain… patience, no doubt. She actually can tolerate the absurdities of conformist bastards. I couldn’t do it; too much paperwork and sycophancy. I prefer that all of my problems can be solved with the liberal use of extreme violence.’
As she approaches, Crimson gave the younger Alchemist a smirk and a half-hearted salute.
“Mythril, I was wondering when the military’s secret weapon would finally arrive in Ishval. Congratulations on the promotion. I hope you don’t mind if I skip the ‘sirs’. Feels strange enough saluting a child.”
‘Which is a lie, of course. I’m more than happy to give pointless gestures to authority if it means getting my way. However, many things can… change in a few months. It would not be the first time I met someone I thought was a like-minded heretic only to turn into a conformist toady at the first taste of power. If she becomes someone who would demand my respect just because of a rank or two, it would be best if I kept my distance.’
Tanya smiled and shook her head.
“You are too kind Major Kimblee and I don’t mind at all. It is just a single rank and we’ve worked closely in the past. It’s good to have someone as reliable as yourself at my back.”
‘So she hasn’t changed… but I can’t let my guard down just yet. How was she able to fool everyone into thinking she’s worthy of more authority? Do they not see it? The cynical ruthlessness; the cold pragmatism that underlines her every decision? If it meant getting one step closer to her goal, she would burn Amestris to the ground and personally butcher every person in her way… though she might give some token apology for being “forced” to do so. Its one of those strange proclivities of hers that just make me more interested in what makes her tick.’
A few months prior, they had spent just a single week together working on the final design of her project. At first, he hated it. Every moment with her was a moment he was not creating explosive death on the battlefield. However, in just that short period of time, she had enraptured him in a way no other human being could. While it was clear they were not on the same page on many things – her obsession with rules for one – they were far too alike for him to put her in the same category with the rest of humanity. If he had anything to compare it to, he might even consider her a friend. Impossibly – for the first time in his life – he found someone he enjoyed spending time with.
He smiled at her, glad to find something worthwhile to distract him from the lack of combat.
“It will be good to have you here as well, if you’re even half as capable as the reports say. More than your martial successes, I would say our discussions are far more personally enjoyable. Far better than the other Alchemists I’ve had the displeasure of talking to.”
She nodded and eyed him curiously.
“I noticed you were talking to the Flame Alchemist earlier? What were you talking about that has you so disappointed?”
He shook his head in exasperation.
‘Well, this is as good as any for a final test. What does she think of me if I let down the mask for a little bit?’
“He seems to have the strange opinion that soldiers are not simply tools for violence. That we shouldn’t be killing former Amestrian citizens in this war.”
Much to his delight, Lieutenant Colonel Degurechaff nodded in agreement.
“You’re right, that is strange; Major Mustang seemed more interested in Alchemy than the war when I talked to him so I’m surprised he would care about any of that. Still, while I can understand his frustration, I have to question his logic. The army is the State’s branch dedicated to violence. Soldiers are not trained like police to maintain order or as detectives to investigate crimes. The violence perpetrated on the Ishvalan people is the will of the State and the people have not indicated their opinion to the contrary. I can look at this war as the massive waste of resources it is, but that’s not something that can be fixed by wishful thinking.”
Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.
He laughed.
‘Exactly as I remember! How wonderful it is to find a like-minded individual! No need to hold back.’
“Exactly! Doctors heal, soldiers destroy, alchemists create. I don’t understand why everyone needlessly complicates things. Humans are best when they give their utmost to what they desire. Speaking of which, I heard a lot of my alchemy on the battlefield yesterday. It is such a wonderful surprise to experience such refined explosions in the distance. Normally I want to stay close to feel the full effect, but I have found that I appreciate the subtle nuances the distance can provide. I hope you do not mind that I took a little peak at your Battalion. They really are as strong as the reports suggest. Deflecting bullets, controlling large swaths of the battlefield at once. You can be proud of the lethal weapons you have at your disposal. Ah, if only I could get others to follow me as you can. Nevertheless, seeing the results, I assume that you worked out all the quirks with your weapon, Tanya?”
She looked down at the Silver Orb on her chest.
“Yes, the ‘Destroy’ operation we worked on together now performs flawlessly with a little change to the materials used. It has already saved my life. I honestly cannot thank you enough for all the work you put into helping the project. I know you were ordered, but you have gone above and beyond what was required.”
He messed with her hair. The child grumbled in annoyance but otherwise did not chide him for it. He chuckled at how cute the little murderer could be.
“Don’t think too hard about it kid. I got plenty in return. Your very unorthodox approach to alchemy inspired a few modifications of my own.”
Kimblee took off his gloves to reveal his newly tattooed hands. On his left palm was the half-moon in a top-pointed triangle and the right palm was the symbol of the sun with a bottom-pointed triangle. This had not changed. However, writing now made its way along his fingers from his palms. On his fingertips, he had etched a variety of circles and triangles which roughly mimicked the dynamic circles that he had worked with Mythril to produce,
He gave her a fierce grin, showing his canines.
“Until now, I had always used these hands to create explosions in the moment. To draw out the latent potential of alchemy into an instant of pure violence. However, you showed to me another aspect to my artistry I had not considered.”
He bent down to pick up a small fist-sized rock from the ground nearby. Based on its size, it probably once formed a piece of one of the nearby houses. He smirked at the irony of using structure for the demonstration. He quickly slammed his hands around the object and the signature sparks of electric alchemic transmutation response shot out. Casually, he tossed it into a nearby died-up ravine.
Then he waited, 30-seconds, then a minute passed with nothing happening. Then with the snap of a finger, the rock exploded.
The Mythril Alchemist tilted her head in confusion and thought.
“Ah, a time-delayed explosion? No, your finger-snap caused it to explode. You stored a reference or ‘flag’ in the stone and remotely connected to it.”
He smiled and gave a small bow.
“You’re always full of insights. Rather than creating the instability in my hands, or remotely through the ground, I can store the energy for later. It goes away eventually – something so unstable cannot last – but to keep the audience in suspense? To never know when their time will end? Ah, what a thrill!”
She shrugged away his “eccentricity”.
“I can’t quite appreciate your fascination with explosions, but I suppose I don’t need to. So long as you signal yourself as a productive member of society in the appropriate settings, it isn’t anyone’s business. Speaking of which, have you thought about what we talked about last time?”
He gave her a soft smile.
‘Yes, our little conversation about philosophy. Unlike me, it seemed like she was somehow born a heretic. That she could grow up to hide it so well was bound to have her formulate a number of fascinating ideas.’
“’Signaling Theory’ right? I have to admit, I never thought about it that way, but you’re right. Until now, I just did it naturally: to hide my heresy behind a mask of conformity, but it is interesting to put the concept into words. For you to think about this so much, what was the word you had? Oraku? No, Otaku. You called me an ‘Explosion Otaku’, but you are a bit of a ‘Rules Otaku’ yourself. It only makes sense that a child who volunteered to be a soldier would have certain proclivities.”
She grumbled underneath her breath for a moment then looked up at him with a roll of her eyes.
“I didn’t quite volunteer and you don’t have to make it out like I am some kind of deviant. We all have our struggles to fit in, some of us just need to try a bit harder than others. I assure you that deep down, I do my utmost to make good use of human resources to build the foundations of an efficient society where one is valued by their contributions and not superficial things ignorant people would call ‘disorders’.”
He looked back at the “Alchemy Research” building in the distance with a wistful sigh. He could almost hear the screams of the dying from here.
‘Human Resources, huh? She said something like that before. I had assumed she was speaking metaphorically, but my recent conversations with the Top Brass and Doctor Marco frames things in a whole new light. If the military isn’t quite as ignorant as I thought, perhaps she was let in on a few of these secrets like I was.’
Being careful not to let anyone else see, he took out the small red crystal from his pocket. He could feel a tingling sensation of the Stone on his fingers. His hands vibrated subtly with a rapturous energy. He could barely contain himself from using it right in that instant. He looked down at the child and held the Philosopher's Stone before her.
“I was starting to wonder where you got the idea when we talked about this before. So you are in on it too?”
She raised an eyebrow at him.
“In on what? What does that rock have to do with it?”
He put it away as quickly as he took it out. He could still feel it burning a metaphorical hole in his pocket.
‘Maybe she investigated on her own or they’re feeling her out for now? It’s too early to say, but I should give her a little hint. It would be a shame for the only person I’ve ever given a damn about in this world were to die from ignorance.’
He shook his head and chuckled.
“I don’t think I need to tell you this since you’ve already been promoted, but the government is not quite a stickler for rules as yourself. If you’re ever confronted by the State asking you to do something you don’t like, just play along. They have eyes and ears everywhere and won’t hesitate to use it against you.”
She rolled her eyes.
“You don’t have to tell me. Half the reason I’m here is because of the Fürer.”
‘So maybe she is involved. Damn you Tanya… do you tease me with these non-specifics on purpose, or do you have some other goal? Ah, I suppose it doesn’t matter. I will-’
At that moment, the sound of bells chimed in the distance.
‘Finally! As much as it is a joy to talk with Tanya, my true life’s passion awaits!’
“It’s time to go. Good luck. I have my purpose as an instrument of violence to resume.”
She smiled.
“Myself as well. As fellow productive members of society, I can only hope our paths cross again soon.”
As he walked off in the other direction and towards his unit in the distance, he felt himself standing a little taller and a little happier with the orders he had been given to invade the Kanda region.
‘It’s really unfortunate that I have to pay that pair of doctors a “housecall”, but so long as there are still people like Tanya out there in the world, removing a few potential heretics doesn’t seem so wrong.’
---
November 27th, 1908, Makeshift Field Hospital, Kanda, Ishval – Scar POV
As a monk, the Man Without A Name was accustomed to pain and hardship. He had fasted for months for the Sacrament of Earth, living on just one sip of water and a bite of unleavened bread a day. He stood for days in the various Forms during his training, reciting the scriptures until his legs burned with strain and his voice grew hoarse. He never quit, not when he walked with the Desert Caravans without sandals, or went on pilgrimage to the Holy Sites with nothing but the clothes on his back, relying on the charity of strangers just to survive the journey.
He had never felt pain like now.
While the physical pain hurt, it was a spiritual anguish that left him crying out like a newborn child confused at the absence of their mother. It was like a deep scar on his soul. As with the Apostle Vula making pilgrimage to the Desert Oasis of Tul Alah, his mind tried desperately to make sense of the trials Ishvala had forced upon him. Unlike that apostle, he had no time to come to terms with his mutilation.
It was no quick thing either, but a wound that had festered since the start of the Civil War. For every hour he recited the Three-Hundred Psalms and Sixteen Sutras, he spent days hunting Amestrian soldiers and failing to adequately clean the blood from his hands. For every moment he had to prayer, he had dozens seeing woman garbed in mourning clothes in cemeteries that could no longer fit the dead, crying over pits with dead stacked to be buried en masse like so much garbage. They were the lucky ones. Most could only cry at home; their loved ones having been burned by the Amestrians or left to rot in the desert sun as food for crows and vultures.
Like filth, the sights and sounds of the carnage built within him for years, burdening his every thought and action. There was no guilt, no hesitation or frustration with his solemn duty to rid the godless invaders from their blasphemous genocide. And yet, he could feel himself change; the carefully honed emotional distance and purity within his soul stained by the death, hatred and madness of war. Until now, he had contained it. He fell back on the camaraderie of fellow monks, in the domestic – if strained – relationship with his wayward brother.
Then it all came crashing down.
‘My arm, brother I-’
He awoke and saw his brothers arm and sighed.
‘Thank Ishvala that he-’
He moved to grab that hand, but his bothers arm responded like his own. Confused, he looked down at his own right arm, but could only see his brothers arm there. In that moment, the scars on his soul and on his body merged into one and the red hue of his eyes bled into his vision.
“WHAT IS THIS?!”
He screams, looking around to he people around him. In his eyes, reality or illusions played out, but he did not take a moment to question it. He saw the Alchemist and Amestrians who murdered his people all around him. He grabbed a nearby knife and swung at them.
“Argh!”
“Who are-?”
“Major Kimblee we’ve got a problem-”
The soldier fell, the others began to turn his way, their guns pointed at him, but they were too slow. While he was wounded, his carefully trained body had more than enough rest. It could fight for as long as he was still breathing.
He ducked under the rifle of one man and sliced through his neck. Using him as cover, the corpse absorbed two shots from another soldier before the monk barreled into him and crashing into a third man. With two quick stabs, they were both dead. He turned and saw him. The man from his nightmare; a nightmare that was becoming more real by the moment. The State Alchemist who murdered his brother.
“You!”
The murderer looked shocked.
“What the hell is going on? This clinic was supposed to be cleared of-”
The Alchemist was cut off when he was forced to dodge a swing of his blade. It narrowly missed, but the monk kept in range. He swung several more times, each closer than the last in reaching its mark. The State Alchemist tried to kick him, but failed to connect. However, it bought them some distance.
“Get away from me believer!”
The man brought his hands together and the building around him exploded and fell on him. He felt pressure all around him and the gloating laugh of the monster above. He thought he was about to die, but as he held his right arm up to grab hold of the rubble, his arm glowed with blue-white energy and the rubble before him turned to dust.
Just like that, he was once again face to face with the alchemist who killed his brother and he did not hesitate to press the surprising encounter.
“Argh!”
The alchemist recoiled as the knife finally struck home. It sliced the palm of the mans hand, causing blood to spill across the ground. The madman grabbed a red stone hanging around his neck and in a flash of red energy, his wound was healed. However, he attempted to put his hands together, but the damage must have changed something. The surroundings did not explode like before. Instead, the Alchemist was shocked and looked down at his hands.
Then the Monk saw it, the fear in the mans eyes for just a fleeting moment before the Alchemist turned-tail and fled into an alleyway.
Realizing that he had somehow neutralized the vile magic of his brother’s killer, he seized the advantage. He rushed after him, jumping over piles of rubble and running through the desolate streets. It was slow, but he began to close the distance. He knew that once the alchemist was out of the narrow pathways and rubble-filled streets, he would be able to outrun him in the open and finally bring justice to his brother’s killer.
Just as he was gaining on him, he felt a pain in his side.
“Argh!”
He collapsed. He turned down to notice blood beginning to fall from around his chest and pool on the ground. His vision grew blurry and his eyes strained to look for the man who just moments ago was in reach. He grabbed his chest and noticed his brothers book – which had been there and which his brother had entrusted to him – was now wet with his blood. Without thinking, he took it out and gripped it in his hands.
‘I-I’m sorry brother… I could not…’
He could not speak and struggled to breathe. He stabbed the knife he held in his other hand into the ground. Desperately, he tried using it to inch forwards even a little bit more. He needed to find that man. He knew that if he did not kill him now, he might never have another chance.
“Kill…Kimblee…Alchemist…Amestris…”
He could not go on. Darkness crept at the edges of his vision.
It would be another day before he would awake. By then, the Alchemist Kimblee, the Amestrian soldiers, and Ishval as he knew it would all be gone.
---
November 27th, 1908, Town Outskirts, Kanda, Amestris – Shan POV
Shan narrowed her eye as she struggled to look at the man in front of her in the darkness. An explosion from the Alchemist known as “Crimson” had taken her left eye which was now covered by a crude bandage.
‘I was already having a hard time seeing things, and I need to walk with a cane now… I’ve turned into my mother. I never thought I would see the day I finally “got old”.’
The man gestured to her group and gave her a shallow bow, his right hand covering his heart in respect.
“Revered Elder, are you the last ones?”
The rough-looking man was a guard for the merchant caravan and carried a rifle that looked more rust than metal. He seemed desperate to leave. It was a feeling Shan shared.
Shan had once been willing to live and die in the town of her birth, a town in which she once shared a last name… but which no longer felt appropriate. She had been too stubborn, and had not fled with the others when she had the chance. She felt it was the best choice, both for herself and her people. When the attacks came and the injured poured in, she had used her knowledge as a healer to help where she could: using local remedies that improved clotting, numbed pain or sanitized wounds. It was not much, but it kept some of the lightly wounded soldiers and monks from infection and quickly brought them back onto the ever-encroaching front lines.
‘I hated it. This duty as a leader. To look at the strong but naive faces of our youngest and most capable believers and sending them to their deaths… but what other choice was there? We had tried peace. We tried compromise and diplomacy and every time the Amestrians just got angrier and more violent. If our people are to die no matter what… at least let the choice land on my old bones.’
As penance, she had tried to heal and take care of the weak as best she could. She looked to her six companions. They were all that remained after the makeshift clinic in the heart of the town was attacked by Amestrian soldiers and the alchemist that destroyed her eye. They were lucky that an Ishvalan Monk who had been unconscious at the time flew into a rage and killed the lot of them before they could do the same to them. She would be forever in the debt of that scarred man and hoped that – like all their people – he would find some manner of peace in the bosom of Ishvala once these trials were over.
She looked back at the guard and nodded.
“It is just the seven of us… But the attack by the Amestrians just ended. There might still be some people left in-”
The man shook his head and pointed to the top of one of the nearby hills.
“I’m sorry, but even if you were to order it, we can’t risk a search party… we’ve someone up there and they’ve sighted another Amestrian patrol. The patrol won’t leave until morning and if we don’t leave now… I probably don’t need to tell you, but our food situation is not the best.”
She nodded sadly. Their group was able to scrounge up enough dried food to last for 2 weeks, but their trip through the desert to Aerguo would take longer than that. What’s more, they were the lucky ones; most would have arrived with only the clothes on their back. Between eating berries and animals in the wild, they might survive, but every moment waiting would mean either traveling through the desert during the day or wasting their valuable food. It was a terrible decision that no one should make.
‘But I’ve made worse decisions, and it is only what I deserve. I could have met my end today; I was sure of it. In my hubris I decided the time and manner of my death against the plans of Holy Ishvala and I have been punished. Ishvala could have tortured me with debilitating pain or left me crippled and useless while others took care of my every need, but – as always – God is merciful. I have been given a more fitting sentence: to take care of the remains of my people in exile. I will keep them together and focused away from thoughts of self-sacrificing vengeance. Some day, we will return and rebuild the homeland… probably long after I’m gone. But I will keep them strong. As with the Prophet Vershad and the nomadic founders of Ishval: “We flee the darkness and the screams of the multitude of Xerxes. Until our flesh is ruined and our bones ground to dust, we keep Ishvala in our hearts, until a land can be found where the Voice of the Earth can be heard once more.”’
She was but a lowly priestess of Ishvala and she once felt she was going above her station to bear the duties and responsibilities she now faced. She was only meant to serve and guide, not lead and command, but there were too few left. The entire class of Monks that served as the foundation of their faith were gone and most of the highest-ranking Priests had been singled-out and killed in the first few years of the war. She hoped there would be enough priests to release her from her burden once she arrived as refugees to the place of their exile, but she held little hope. If there were even a dozen left to lead the tens of thousands of refugees, she would be surprised. Without her and the other priests, she knew the hotheaded youth would run headlong into their deaths and the teachings of Ishvala – of peace and freedom and love – would be gone.
As the guard watched them go in, he caught sight of something that shocked him into blocking their path. He pointed his rifle towards the stretcher being carried by two of her party.
“E-Elder Priestess, why are you bring one of them with you! There is hardly food to spare of us, yet alone an Amestrian!”
Around them, a few of the nearby caravan workers stopped what they were doing and moved towards them. Sensing the potential hostility, the members of their group formed a ring to protect themselves and the Amestrian on the stretcher.
Elder Shan smiled and lifted her hand in the air.
“Now, now. There’s no need to do anything drastic. I’m sure you’ve heard of the Amestrian doctor pair right? The ones helping cure our people?”
At those words, the man responded like he was hit. He recoiled back and lowered his weapon.
“Then- No, why is she hurt? Did one of our own do it? I swear I wouldn’t… I didn’t mean…”
Shan had a dark look on her face and a tear threatened to fall from her eyes. She gestured to the rest of her group.
“It was just a few hours ago. They were curing the men, woman and children here like they always did. Such loving souls. One could scarcely find such a pair of saints among the best of our Ancestors.”
She pointed to a man with a burn on his face. The burn went down his neck and Shan knew it covered over half his body.
“You should have seen Rohan here. He came in with a face as black as ash from that Flame Alchemist. He-”
Rohan touched her shoulder and smiled sadly.
“I would have died. There were at times where I wanted to be taken to Ishvala’s kingdom. The doctors ran out of painkillers and the traditional Ishvalan remedies don’t exactly help with immolation. I cursed them and if it wasn’t for others holding me down, I would’ve killed myself. I know what the teachings says about suicide, but the pain was so strong… they took all my abuse and everyone’s hatred… and they just kept saving lives.”
He started tearing up.
Shan nodded and turned towards the growing number of people.
“And against these peacekeepers and saviors, the State sent a band of assassins to kill them. It wasn’t enough that they turned on their own citizens on the first flimsy justification they could find, they did not even have a justification to kill this pair of doctors. No doubt their healing was seen as a threat to the war they wanted and so they would have them killed over. Or at least they tried. It must have been by Ishvala’s Grace that one of the patients at the clinic was a monk. The man woke up at the perfect time, catching the killers off guard and saving us before they could finish the job.”
The nearby people let out a cheer.
The guardsman looked at the female doctor lying on the stretcher once more and gave a nod.
“I’m sorry… I understand. I can’t exactly tell you to turn her over to the military that tried to murder her, not after she helped our people so much.”
Then he looked around for a moment.
“But I remember that there were a pair of doctors: the Rockbells, right? They were a married team. Where is the husband?”
Shan shook her head.
“The Monk, he had been unconscious at the time and we were alone and defenseless against them. I suppose we should all be fortunate that these would-be killers wanted to toy with us first. They shot and killed poor Larisa, one of the teenaged girls that was helping out. She was the only one of us capable of putting up a fight and they… they did not even hesitate. Then the Alchemist – the Crimson Alchemist that went by Major Kimblee – he went up to the doctors and put his hands together. The room exploded. By the time the dust cleared and the ringing in my ears stopped… the husband, he had grabbed his wife and held her underneath him to protect her from the blast. Until now she’s been asleep but-”
“Yuriy’s dead?!”
Priestess Shan and the rest of them turned in shock. Miraculously, Doctor Sarah Rockbell was awake and trying to sit up on her stretcher. The sudden movement made the two Ishvalans carrying her unstable and were forced to lower her to the ground. As the female doctor pushed herself up, some blood ran down her nose and dripped on the floor. Seeing this, the doctor’s former patients rushed to her side.
“Please lay back down!”
“Doctor Rockbell, you’re bleeding!”
The doctor ignored them pushed them away.
“Get away! I want to see Yuriy! Please, y-you need to bring me to my husband… you were just lying right… he, he has to be alive!”
The others looked away, but Shan moved forwards and grabbed the woman in an embrace. She would not let this woman who once removed her eye and saved her life from grieving alone.
“I’m sorry Sarah, he’s gone.”
The doctor tried to push her away too, but she kept up the hug. The fact that the much younger woman could do nothing to pull away was proof the doctor was as injured as she suspected. The explosion did not hit her directly, but she was affected… in more ways than one.
The doctor soon stopped trying to pull away and instead returned the hug. Shan felt a wetness on her shoulder and she did not check if it was blood or tears. The doctor wailed.
“Yuriy! Why?! What did we do…? What am I going to do without you? Yuriy…”
Shan could only rub her back.
“I’m sorry…”
More than just a feeling of empathy, Shan felt responsible for Doctor Rockbell. If she was a cynic, she could have justified that the Rockbells knew the risks, but she was as far from one as could be. These two great doctors had involved themselves in their struggle and paid the ultimate price. Elder Priestess Shan Kanda would ensure that somehow, some way, the woman would find her way back to her family. She only hoped that of all the horrible things that has happened in this war, she might have the ability to do just one act of kindness.
But the time for such acts were far in the future. In the meantime, they would flee into the night and into the harsh wilderness and arrive in a strange and possibly hostile land. Shan had been given a harsh lesson, and so she would no longer try to guess at the Great Plan Ishvala had for her or her people. She could only pray that tomorrow’s burdens would be lessened and the recovery could finally begin.