November 28th, 1908, 12th Division Guest Barracks, Gunja, Amestris – Kimblee POV
Major Solf J. Kimblee tried not to showcase his awful mood as he walked into the stone building that served as the guest quarters for the 12th Division. He hated meeting with his superiors, no matter how generous they were with the liberties they gave him to kill or how hands-off they were in their treatment.
Inside the building was a large main area with the massive banner of the Amestrian Flag hanging in the center of the far wall. Around a wooden table, Lieutenant General Triton, Major General Stryker, Brigadier General Switchblade and several aides were gathered. These were the command staff sent from Central to overlook his performance with the Philosopher’s Stone. It looked like a party had been set up inside, with plenty of alcohol and appetizers laid out on a large wooden table. Based on the expression of some of the officers, they had probably already partaken in the “refreshments”.
‘They’ve done nothing, yet – now that their little “project” isn’t a complete failure – they think they’ve earned a celebration? Of course, I’m the last one to talk about feeding my base desires, but I don’t pretend to espouse the virtues of a meritocratic system. There hypocrisy is disgusting… and there is still the capital city of Ishvala to take out! Well, I’ve always known the higher-ups were a sanctimonious sycophants with little skill to speak of, so I suppose this is nothing new… well, maybe not all of them are incapable…’
Of the three Generals, the obvious outlier was Switchblade. The bald man with small circular glasses had a massive scar on the top of his head, a toothbrush mustache and a small goatee on his chin. The name was obviously fake, and considering the man was from the Intelligence branch, he might not even be a General at all. He could be a simple agent meant to act as a “handler” for the other Generals, or he could be someone with a direct ear to the Fürer. He was the man that ordered him to kill the two doctors and seemed to know that doing so pushed his buttons.
Switchblade spoke to him with an unassuming voice.
“You’re back. I assume that means you were successful.”
Kimblee smirked to hide the mild discomfort he felt. There was something… off about the Intelligence Officer. It was not just his name or the mission, but the man seemed to purposefully make himself as meek and forgettable as possible. Worse was that it seemed to work despite him knowing there was something wrong. That made the man seem all the more dangerous.
Which was a problem, because Kimblee could not confirm if the doctors were really dead and with his soldier escort all killed, there was no one to corroborate the story.
‘What’s more… that I was defeated by a single Ishvalan Monk? No. There is no need to think about it. I’m not the kind of brat to wallow in self-deprecating foolishness.’
He clenched a fist.
‘I just leveled a city to the ground. I’m a heretic to be reckoned with.’
He gave them a confident smirk.
“Those ‘Rockbell Doctors’ are dead. They won’t be causing you any more trouble with their charity. As for Kanda… well, if there’s anyone left in that ruin, I’m sure you can handle it.”
Brigadier General Switchblade narrowed his eyes at him, but before the man could speak, Lieutenant General Triton let out a hardy laugh. The man’s glasses glimmered and his full beard stretched with the movement. The General slapped him on the shoulder.
“Haha! Excellent work! With that, the main battle is over. Any stragglers left won’t be something you’ll need to worry about.”
Major General Stryker gave him a smile and a nod of approval.
“We all appreciate your efforts, Major Kimblee.”
Save for Switchblade, the other officers all nodded their agreement. General Stryker gave him a smirk.
“So how was it; the Philosopher’s Stone, I mean.”
Kimblee took out the stone and gave it a wistful gaze. The rock had a faint glow in the dim electric lighting of the room. He looked at the Generals and smiled.
“One word: Exquisite. To be able to ignore the Law of Equivalent Exchange and create explosions beyond reckoning… truly incredible.”
General Triton let out another boisterous laugh and grabbed a bottle of wine, handing it over to an Adjutant to open. He gave an extravagant gesture to all the officers in the room.
“Wonderfully said! We could expect nothing less from Central’s Research Institutes!”
General Stryker nodded, giving Kimblee a warm smile that did not reach his eyes.
“And don’t worry, your successes for us today will be duly noted to Central Command. I’m sure you’ll be promoted for this!”
At that, the Crimson Alchemist could not help but narrow his eyes.
‘Promotion? I couldn’t give a damn about rank… no, I have a feeling I know where this is going.’
General Triton confirmed his suspicions with a narrowing of his eyes and a fierce grin.
“Now, I’ll need you to return the stone. Something as precious as that will need to be kept secure.”
‘And there it is.’
He brought the stone up to eye level, feeling the subtle warmth and that vibration of raw power just at his fingertips. He felt a compulsion: kill them all. The people in the room were the only ones that knew of him having the stone. They would not dare risk putting details about it on paper, right? It would be so easy. He might even be able to create an alibi for himself with his new “Delayed Explosion” Alchemy.
But then he saw it. The scar on his hand; the one left when that Ishvalan Monk stabbed him with the knife. When he was stabbed, he had used the stone to heal himself. He had thought such a thing would be trivial for it – just pull the skin together – but it had not done what he wanted. It had created a small scar on his hand that ruined the transmutation circle on his palm. He had since performed a quick patch-job by tattooing over the scar so that the circles would work at a cost of some efficiency, but the tattoos would need to be redone.
‘Is the Philosopher’s Stone really all that it’s cracked up to be? It dramatically improved my Explosion Alchemy and I’m sure there are many more things that ignoring the prospect of equivalent exchange could grant… but I wouldn’t be invincible. I could take on any other Alchemist, maybe even a Division of Infantry all on my own… but if even a simple Ishvalan Monk could get a lucky stab, what could a marksman do by shooting at me beyond my field of vision? With little Tanya’s Orb that could change, but I’ll never get my hands on one or the instructions on how to use it if I kill these buffoons and get arrested. And I would be arrested. Trying to escape would just be an – admittedly wonderful – killing spree followed by my less-than-glorious death.’
Sensing his hesitation, General Triton frowned.
“Now Crimson, I’m sure the stone is all very fascinating to an alchemist like yourself, but you’ll need to hand it over.”
Kimblee gave the stone one last squeeze and placed it in the man’s outstretched hand. Immediately, he felt sick to his stomach, but he did not let the nausea show on his face.
“Of course… not a problem. I’m sure you’ll get plenty of use out of it, and I’ll be sure to keep this our little secret.”
The General gave him a wide grin.
“Ah, I am glad we understand one-another. I’m sure you will go far, Lieutenant Colonel Kimblee.”
The newly promoted officer clenched his teeth, gave a half-hearted smile before turning around and walking away.
General Triton looked surprised.
“Ah, Crimson, are you not going to celebrate with us? You’ve achieve quite a lot!”
The Alchemist shook his head, not bothering to turn around.
“No, no, please you go ahead. I just got back and could use some sleep.”
They did not seem to pay him any mind after that, going at the booze and food like a herd of monkeys.
‘Well, Mythril was right about one thing, outward appearances really are the only thing that matter to people. But was that the best decision? Turning away so much raw power…’
He smiled and looks up at the sky and clenches a fist at the sun.
‘No, I can’t say I have any regrets. I got this far on my own, why limit myself to merely that level of power? Besides, lashing out for short-term satisfaction just isn’t my style. I’ll become a stronger Alchemist all on my own and take that power for myself. Soon… soon I will be able to indulge in all of my vices without holding back. When that time comes, no one will be able to stop me.’
---
November 27th, 1908, 12th Division Guest Barracks, Gunja, Amestris – Elya POV
Behind the large tapestry of the Amestrian Flag, a female officer silently waited in the pitch-black darkness of a crawlspace for the noise of the party in the nearby room to die down. Captain Elya Müller’s heart hammered in her chest as she waited for her “handler” to finalize her mission and take her back to Central.
‘God, what would Visha think? If she knew, would she laugh? No, knowing her she’d get herself killed trying to help me. I was the one who wanted to keep her out of danger and look at me? Knee-deep in a quagmire of conspiracy and trouble with no escape in sight.’
It had all started just a few months prior. On paper, she had graduated top of her class at the Acadamy and was granted a generous promotion and a position as a spotter for artillery. In reality, she had been selected to attend clandestine Intelligence training on top of her Academy coursework. When she graduated, she was immediately promoted to 1st Lieutenant and given a job as an Intelligence Officer. From there, she was given a target from Intel Command and was to find out everything there was to know about them. She would then pass on any dirty secrets she found up the chain and – in many cases – the target was arrested for treason and never saw the light of day again. Other times, the officers would be counter-blackmailed to turn on their foreign backers or otherwise turn into double-agents.
Trivial to a woman of her talents.
Which was why she grew bored and started poking her nose where it did not belong. She would uncover a little extra information about people in the target’s circle of friends that would fail to make it into her report. If there was some particularly juicy piece of gossip, she would investigate a little more on her own time. It was a bad habit of hers that had gained her a notorious reputation at the Academy for being the “Gossip Queen”. She figured if she found the right type of secret – something small enough not to risk her mark going to the authorities, but inconvenient enough to warrant a bribe – she could slowly blackmail herself into the inner circles of the rich and famous. A little high-stakes, but she did not mind playing a little danger if it meant living out her dreams of living the high-life.
As it turned out, uncovering the secrets of the most powerful people in Amestris was not always such a great idea.
She was not an idiot. She had played things very carefully. She only investigated while in disguise. She did not take any equipment save for a stethoscope or wiretaps; something she could discretely tuck into her clothes. She always had an alibi and a quick getaway if she needed it, which she never did. Her preparations were perfect.
Unfortunately, the issue turned out to be in the secret she discovered: a group of super-powered, immortal “Homonculi” secretly controlled Central Command from the shadows.
It was the type of absurd thing that she spent weeks double-, triple-, and quadruple-checking, but the more evidence she acquired, the more glaringly obvious the conspiracy became. Officers, Generals, Doctors and Scientists from around Amestris were all in on it and even her own chain-of-command was not completely clean. It was not something that could be ignored, but she could not trust anyone and the few people she could trust would be just as powerless as herself to help. So she did the only thing she could think of: she arranged for an anonymous letter to find its way onto the desk of the Fürer.
Then she realized the grave mistake she made in underestimating the scope of the conspiracy, and now she was just another pawn in their game.
‘It was supposed to be untraceable… I still don’t know how they did it. Not that it matters… underneath all of my touted “charm” and “risk-taking” I did as a spy, I really am an incorrigible coward. I tell myself that “I’m only taking part in their conspiracy to take it down from the inside,” but I don’t have any plan. I’m just holding out hope that someone can save me before these “Homonculi” have no more use for me and I’m “disposed of”.’
The wooden panel in front of her crawlspace was given three firm knocks that caused her to jump. It was her “handler” Brigadier General Switchblade.
‘Of course, the name’s just a codename… or rather, the “General” doesn’t even exist. Instead, “he” is just a form the Homonculus known as “Envy” changes into when dealing with the “lower-ranking” members of their conspiracy; those that know of the Philosopher’s Stone, but not of the Homonculi. The stupid idiots. The monsters would sooner turn them into ingredients for more Stones than give them even a shred of real power…’
Which led to their “plan”. There were two outcomes based on the psychological profile the Intelligence Bureau came up with. The first possibility was that the Crimson Alchemist would kill them all, take the stone, and get arrested. From there, he would become a resource – a fail-safe – insulated from the outside world that could be “reactivated” at any time. The alternative would be he would become a pawn in the short-term, that would need to be disposed of some time in the future. To a normal person, such a plan was far too dangerous and dealt in timescales that would have likely had the schemer dead or retired before it could come of any use. Yet for the Homunculi, there was no risk and little gain, but their eternal life allowed them to keep throwing darts at the board until they “hit a bullseye”.
She secretly hoped the Crimson Alchemist would kill them – if only to see the Homonculus blown to pieces – but the monsters seemed invulnerable to all injury. She had seen another of their number – a woman named Lust – shot in front of her during her investigations. Ironically, that was part of the reason she held out hope. There had to be a limit – not because of some scientific fact – but because if they truly were so omnipotent, they would not need the State to achieve their goals at all. If Elya could find it and give that information to the right people, perhaps her cowardly life would not have been in vain.
The cocksure, androgynous voice of Envy came out from the other side of the wooden panel.
“It seems that your report was mistaken. Crimson did not attempt to ‘kill’ me for the stone after all.”
Elya was chilled to the bone and gripped her hands together nervously.
“T-there was always the possibility he would return the stone… based on his psychological profile he should have tried to kill you, but-”
Envy cracked the wooden panel ajar, let out a small chuckle, and slammed a hand next to her head. Elya let out a nervous squeak that seemed to delight the Homonculus.
“Don’t be so hard on yourself. As much as your stupid species disgusts me, if you just followed a strict routine like machines, my job would be boring and the only thing I hate more than humanity is no having fun. So don’t sweat it. That you’re a failure and incompetent was something we both already knew.”
She clenched her fist slightly, but otherwise made no obvious. She was far too afraid to speak her mind.
“R-Right… well, what are we going to do now?”
Envy sighed.
“Unfortunately, as enjoyable as this war has been – such a wonderful display of human failure – it will soon be coming to an end.”
The shapeshifter grinned.
“Of course, that doesn’t mean there’s no time left to get some last-minute use out of it. You’re still have some contacts with the ‘rebels’ right?”
The State had a few back-channels they used with the Rebellion for informal arrangements: prisoner exchanges and the like. But she knew the Homonculus did not mean that. Her own contacts handled even more clandestine operations. The Ishvalans had no idea who she really was and thought her just a well-meaning supporter who gave a few of them food and money on occasion. She used them to get what little information they had on things like the overall mood of the Rebellion or any hints on upcoming, major changes.
Elya gave a hesitant nod and the Homonculus threw a small wooden crate at her with enough force to have the wind ripped from her lungs.
Envy looked on with a wide smile.
“Well, you’ll use your contacts to hand this little parcel over to the Ishvalans.”
Just as Elya was recovering from being attacked with the – thankfully light – crate, Envy grabbed her by the neck and pinned her to the wall. The female officer was lifted into the air by the monster’s superhuman strength. She struggled to breathe, lashing out at the monster and kicking her legs in a futile attempt to stop it. Slowly, her struggling slowed and she felt darkness encroaching at the edges of her senses.
Envy got right up to her face with a manic look.
“And no peeking… I’ll know if you did. Is that understood?”
She was let go and collapsed in a heap. She coughed and gasped for air, but did not hesitate to respond to the monster for fear of further retaliation.
“Y-yes, Envy.”
When she finally got the chance to recover and look up, the Homonculus was gone; vanished like they were never there. Elya did not waste any time and quickly grabbed the box and ran out of the room with tears forming on the edges of her eyes.
“Damn it, damn it, damn it!”
As she ran, she noticed audible clunks and the faint sound of metal-on-metal inside the box. Slowing down, she subtly gauged the weight of the box and quickly calculated that – based on the size – the volume of whatever was inside could be no larger than her head.
‘I might not be able to open it… but Envy wouldn’t know if I investigated a little. One day, I’ll find out everything about them and then… and then…’
She then… then did not know what she would do.
---
December 11th, 1908, 12th Division Headquarters, Ishvala Outskirts, Amestris – Halcrow POV
Major General Halcrow smiled as he stared at the small figure in front of him. Lieutenant Colonel Tanya Degurechaff had made a name for herself over the past two weeks with the remarkable speed in which she completed the conquest of Gunja. She seemed like the future the military was headed for and he practically demanded to have her placed under his command.
The rest of the military which knew the truth of Central Command’s true structure were enraptured with their “Philosopher’s Stone” boondoggle that saw hundreds of doctors and hundreds of thousands of man-hours wasted and the Crimson Alchemist – the best combat alchemist in his division – sent alone to manage the entirety of the Kanda offensive. That he achieved a result equivalent to three Artillery Battalions with no logistics train was impressive, but not revolutionary. It sounded great on paper: seemingly limitless alchemic potential at the cheap expense of enemy “souls”. However, in practice, the project was a massive drain on valuable personnel with limited results.
Compared to that, the Lieutenant Colonel’s project was practically free. The Operation Orb only used a small amount of silver and required the skill of a mere dozen Automail craftsman a few days to build and assemble the sophisticated mechanism. Considering that the war would soon be over and the need for Automail would drop, the price would drop in equal measure. A Battalion similar to the 203rd might even cost less than an equivalent unit of Artillery while being more powerful, maneuverable, and resilient.
‘What’s more, it’s scalable! We could remake the entire army with equal combat potential for one-tenth the cost and one-hundredth the manpower! More realistically, we could expand the military and conquer all of our neighbors with ease! The brain-dead idiots in Central really must have no imagination if they can’t see the gold mine – or rather, the mythril mine – sitting in their collective laps, with limitless potential ready to be tapped.’
Noticing his intense look, the Lieutenant Colonel seemed unperturbed and gave a salute.
“Good afternoon Major General Halcrow. I want to start off by offering my condolences for the loss of your subordinate Brigadier -er, rather Lieutenant General Fessler. I was told he had died yesterday from a rebel sniper. I know that my Battalion was to be under your direct command, but not so soon.”
Halcrow had to force himself not to roll his eyes.
‘The only reason your Battalion was not given to my direct command right away was because of the sniveling idiot’s nepotism. If his uncle wasn’t a General in Central, Fessler would’ve been executed by firing squad years ago due to his incompetence during the Ishval campaign alone. His stupidity even strained my resources to the point that I was struggling to maintain any offensive action across my Division at all. Thankfully, I can finally put all my plans back on track with his death before the war ends. That the fool was blatantly murdered by his subordinates is so obvious I have no doubt Central will never notice. If I knew who the killer was, I’d pin a medal on their chest.’
Tanya took his silence for remorse and frowned.
“If you need a moment to grieve-”
He waved off her concern.
“No, it would be best to move on with the mission in… honor of the late General Fessler’s memory.”
At the snap of his fingers and a few other gestures, he had a number of soldiers bring in a large object
“As you know, our military has struggled to defeat an under-equipped and undermanned adversary for over 7 years. This was a national embarrassment… or so we thought. Artillary, guns, ammunition, explosives. We traced the type and chemical composition of over 90% of the Ishvalan hardware to Aerugan factories. This was my discovery over a year ago: that the Ishvalan Rebellion was being supplied with vast quantities of surplus Aerugo military hardware. At my request, the Fürer issued Order #3066 to quickly end the fighting… so I guess you could say I’m responsible for you being here.”
Lieutenant Colonel Degurechaff seemed stunned and whispered.
“That was you…”
He chuckled, surprised but glad that she was stunned into silence by the quality of his accomplishment. For an ambitious go-getter like the Mythril Alchemist, participating in another war was no doubt a privilege, especially since – as a State Alchemist – she would have had a much harder time getting promoted otherwise.
“Yes, it took a considerable amount of investigation and allowed us to capture numerous shipments over the past few months. Now that the Ishvalans are only left with their capital city, the war will soon be over.”
He frowned.
“Or that’s how it should be. However, in the past few days, they’ve recently acquired heavy equipment far beyond the usual small-arms and artillery they had been working with.”
He turned to the a tarp-covered box and pulled the tarp away to reveal an open crate containing what looked like a gray-colored robotic arm. Apart from looking heavy and being far more smooth than most automail she had seen, it did not seem disproportionate or otherwise exotic compared to a regular arm.
“As you no-doubt know, the Principality of Aerugo is the birthplace of the modern Automail industry. Despite this, Aerugo has struggled to come up with so-called “Combat Automail” cheap and effective enough to compete on a modern battlefield. Automail makes for fancy weapons – that’s true enough – but unless someone is already missing an arm, the maintenance cost far outstrip what little utility they could achieve beyond an equivalent gun or blade.”
He gestured to the arm.
“That said, they do exist. This arm – which we intercepted in one of the Aerugan shipments – is bullet-resistant and has the grip strength capable of tearing a man in two. Until now, both of our enemies have had reasons to avoid deploying them. For the Ishvalans, modification of the body is blasphemous except for their religious tattoos and the like. Likewise, the Aerugans would have known we would get their hands on this technology. I know no small number of our automail techs that are salivating to reverse-engineer the design.”
She raised an eyebrow and tilted her head.
“So what changed?”
General Halcrow could only shrug.
“We’ve no idea. The Ishvalans are obviously desperate enough to forgo their religious obligations, but the Aerugans must have received something worth this risk. These arms might have changed the face of the conflict we’re having with them on our Southern Border, yet they’re giving it to a ‘Lost cause’ like the Ishvalans. We may never know the real reason. What is certain, is that dozens of Ishvalan Monks – each with one of these arms – are wrecking havoc on our army as we speak. The monks have always been a weak point for us – what with their ability to seemingly dodge bullets – but these augmentations have made them especially brutal in the narrow urban environment of Ishvala. We’ve had no confirmed kills and the amount of lives we would expect to trade to end their threat is unacceptable. We can only be thankful that they were only given a small number of these, or we could have been facing a possible reversal in the outcome of the war.”
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Tanya groaned.
“I understand that this is a serious issue, but how can I help? The glaring weakness of the Operation Orb – as you should have the authorization to know – has always been in Close-Quarters Combat like this. I’ve made certain tactical adjustments to mitigate that flaw, but this is still a huge risk. Wouldn’t conventional forces or even other Alchemists be more effective?”
General Halcrow nodded along while she talked, but shook his head at her final question.
“The other Divisions are no doubt coming up with their own strategies. The effectiveness of your Battalion here is not the primary concern. These monks keeping up their assault is one thing, but they do not seem to realize the potential of this technology. Could you imagine a Ishvalan Monk with a super-powered arm finding their way deep behind our lines? In East City or even Central? Once they spread out far enough, it could take months or years to flush them out and kill them and the collateral damage would be extreme. They need to be taking down right here and right now. It could be our Division, it could be someone else, but these Monks must be stopped. Do a good enough job, and I can have a promotion lined up. Is that understood?”
She hesitated.
“Can I be understood to interpret this as Carte-Blanche to take any action necessary to see this through?”
He considered that for a moment before nodding.
“I will speak with the commander who took over the 94th Brigade after Brigadier General Fessler’s death: Colonel Basque Grand. I’ll make it clear to him to provide you with anything you need… within reason.”
That seemed to change the young child’s tune and she gave him a crisp salute.
“Sir, yes sir!”
He smiled as she walked out.
‘It seems I’ve a good read on her personality. She seems to like me well enough and so long as she’s given a task and a chance for promotion, she’ll take on any task, no matter the odds.’
He looked at his shoulders and his singular star signifying his rank and wondered how it would look with a second star sitting next to it.
‘Keeps this up and we might both find ourselves solid positions in Central High Command. I’m counting on you, Mythril.’
---
December 12th, 1908, 94th Brigade Temporary Headquarters, Ishvala, Amestris – Grand POV
Per the orders of Lieutenant General Halcrow, the Alchemists and Staff Officers of the 94th Brigade got together in a small room just outside the perimeter of their Forward Operating Base to discuss the plans for their assault on these “superpowered” monks. While such a dangerous task was not quite the first mission he wanted as acting commander of the 94th, Colonel Basque Grand – the Ironblood Alchemist – knew it was the sort of task that would cement his position and likely result in a promotion. If he earned it, he would become the highest ranking Alchemist in the history of the nation.
He would not tolerate failure or setbacks.
Yet despite his proven record over the course of the war and his forced removal of the incompetent former commander, the officers of the Brigade were still hesitant to follow his lead. The Alchemists questioned him on his experience outside of the military and the military questioned his lack of record outside of the war. Unlike certain children he did not have the luxury of privileged acquaintance with the Fürer or genius intellect. He had to earn his stars through hard work.
Basque looked across the room of officers as he finished his summary of the current situation. There had been a lot of reshuffling of personnel and responsibilities as a result of the Brigadier General’s death. As it turned out, much of the Brigade’s equipment and had come out of the Division’s total pool by orders of the former commander’s uncle in Central, and so the Brigade had essentially stolen combat potential from the other units. That needed to all be returned, and the Brigade was now a shell of its former self.
With the Colonel’s speech finished, Major Mustang shot up from his seat and pinched the bridge of his nose.
“Sir, why did you gave the Crimson Alchemist control of the 263rd Artillery Battalion I’m assigned to?! Are you insane?!”
Major Kimblee – being an Alchemist – was also in the room, but did not seem at all insulted as he casually waved a hand in the air.
“Flame, I’m right here you know?”
Major Mustang glared at the man and grimaced.
“And if you gave a damn, I wouldn’t say anything, but you yourself wanted to refuse the position.”
He turned to the Colonel with a pleading expression.
“Tell me what the hell is going on?!”
The Ironblood Alchemist tried not to roll his eyes. While it was a valid question on its surface, it made it all the more clear that Flame was far less accustomed to dealing with Central Command as he was.
“There’s already been a lot of rumors regarding the untimely end of former Commander Kessler. When Central ordered me to give Crimson a unit befitting his rank, I was not about to start trouble by pushing that offer off to another unit.”
Lieutenant Colonel Kimblee smiled.
“No need to be so coy, we all know you killed him.”
Everyone stopped to glare at the insufferable Lieutenant Colonel. The tension in the air could be cut with a knife as the Crimson Alchemist raised his hands in mock surrender.
“Hey now, I didn’t say I minded. We’re all comrades-in-arms, right? My lips are sealed.”
The Flame Alchemist acted out what they all felt when he slapped a palm to his face. He shook his head and groaned before turning his attention back to Colonel Grand.
“With that being said… are we seriously going along with this asinine scheme Mythril and Lieutenant General Halcrow have cooked up? None of us could take down these Monks on our own, and our Brigade needs time to reorganize. We have a lot of war potential left – sure – but not enough to make a difference. If we pool our resources together, they’ll just ignore us, but if we spread thin enough to find them, we will also be easy pickings. This is their home, they have the advantage of choosing when and where to attack.”
Basque gave the Flame Alchemist a sideways glance.
“And what, exactly, is your alternative, Flame? Are we to ignore them and let our troops keep dying?”
He grimaced.
“That’s not-”
“I’m sure Major Mustang didn’t mean it like that, Colonel. We’re all in unfamiliar territory right now.”
The woman – or girl – of the hour walked in. Apart from Basque and Crimson, all the other officers saluted their superior. She in turn walked up to the Colonel and saluted. Even seated, the size difference was comical. Basque Grand’s seven-foot tall frame towered over the tiny child.
“Colonel Grand, sir. An honor to make your acquaintance.”
She turned to Kimblee.
“And I heard of your results in Kanda. Congratulations on your promotion-”
Basque huffed and rolled his eyes.
“Save the greetings for later, Mythril. I’m not in the mood for pleasantries. I’ve heard of your exploits in the West and you’ve performed an adequate job since arriving here, but I’ve yet to be convinced that your skills are worth overruling my authority.”
It did not need to be said that having control over the 94th Brigade for less than a week and already having it “shared” was not just a strike to Basque’s pride, but his credibility as well. If his Division Commander did not trust him enough to run even one operation alone, who was to say when he would find the unit pulled out from under him? That he wanted a promotion to Brigadier General made it all the more important that he handled every mission between now and the end of the war.
The child at least understood her position in all this and did not waste time trying to argue with him.
“Understood, Colonel. In that case, I feel it’s best if I just explain my plan as it stands. As you all know, the city has been almost completely turned to rubble from the past 2 years of artillery bombardment. That might have been a good way of taking care of any fortifications or creating a large number of civilian causalities, but far from destroying the combat potential of our enemy, it only drove them to ground-”
Colonel Basque Grand raised his hand.
“Please, Mythril, spare us the strategy lecture. We’ve been fighting this war for months now, we know how deadly Urban Fighting has been. Yes, the rubble did not change the danger of their ‘knife-fighting’ ambushes, and that they’ve got a network of tunnels criss-crossing the city. What we need is a solution.”
The Mythril Alchemist – far from looking insulted by being cut off – smiled at his challenge.
“Then I believe I have just the idea, one that will make good use of all of our talents.”
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December 12th, 1908, City Ruins, Ishvala, Amestris – Hawkeye POV
Warrant Officer Riza Hawkeye nervously looked around at the ruins of the City of Isvhala, hoping her namesake would come through for her again in catching any possible ambush before things turned deadly. She was alone with three other soldiers. One was a man she was familiar working with, a fellow Warrant Officer by the name of Jean Havoc. With them were two soldiers from the 203rd Alchemist Battalion including her “partner” for the mission 1st Lieutenant Viktoriya Serebryakova.
The “plan” had them acting as bait, which meant they slowly patrolled the city alone. For her, the situation was terrifying; she had heard numerous stories of soldiers just not returning from patrols, only to be found later with limbs torn off. Yet unlike her own emotional state, it seemed the other three had different feelings. The two soldiers of the 203rd appeared stoic and professional, Warrant Officer Havoc, however, was… flirting with the 1st Lieutenant.
“I’m just saying, I’m surprised that someone as beautiful as you hasn’t already found a boyfriend.”
The 1st Lieutenant – which looked very disinterested – was a bit too polite in shutting the wannabe Casanova down.
“I just don’t see a relationship working out for me at the moment, Warrant Officer Havoc. I’m focusing on my career.”
The man nodded along.
“Of course! I have always been someone who appreciated a focused, hardworking woman. And please, call me Jean.”
Unlike the 1st Lieutenant, Sergeant Richter – the other 203rd soldier who had a build resembling Major Armstrong’s – seemed far less polite.
“Warrant Officer Havoc, would you mind having a few words with me… in private.”
Before the “ladies’ man” could get a word in edgewise, he was dragged off into a nearby alley for their “talk”.
Now left alone, a silence grew between the two woman. While the 1st Lieutenant seemed happy to play the part of the model soldier and kept up an air of companionable silence with a smile, for Warrant Officer Hawkeye, the silence was as uncomfortable as it was aggravating. It was not the Lieutenant, specifically, that she had a problem with, but the 203rd as a whole.
‘I’m just so sick of them pretending like none of this affects them at all. We’ve been murdering starving and dying people who fight with guns or whatever they could get their hands on. Yet, these “professional soldiers” just pretend like it’s just another practice run in the drill yard. How can they be so callous and cruel.’
As the minutes dragged on, she could not keep quiet.
“Don’t you care at all? All this killing, your commander using you as bait? Anything?”
It appeared to take the Lieutenant some time to process what she was saying, and Riza belatedly realized that without context, the questions must have seemed to come from nowhere and were very unprofessional of her. She was quick to apologize.
“I’m sorry. I know it isn’t an excuse, but this war has-”
The Lieutenant shook her head and gave her a sad smile.
“I’m not sure I understand, but I think you might have the wrong idea. These poor Ishvalans… they seem to have been dealt a really bad hand in life. Isolated and born into a region of the world hostile to them. The hunger, the fleeing for their lives from a military that wants nothing more than for you to die. I know it all too well. I grew up in the purges in Drachma a decade ago. I see that look of desperation and despair and all I can think is ‘That could have been me.’”
That only made Riza more angry. Until then, she was willing to just let the topic slide as an awkward moment, but she could not let it be now.
“Then why?! Why don’t you say anything? How… how can you… how can we just kill them like their lives don’t matter?”
Frustratingly, the other woman seemed confused by her statement.
“Because I trust my commander.”
She paused for a moment, at a loss for words.
“What? That’s it?”
The Lieutenant smiled.
“Seems silly, right, but isn’t it obvious? There’s only two things you can do. I can betray the people I’ve fought side-by-side this whole time; throw my lot in with these strangers I empathize with… or I can find someone on my side I can trust. Someone I know will do the right thing. I know for a lot of soldiers that could be hard, but I was lucky and met the Lieutenant Colonel. Isn’t that how it is with your commander too? Major Mustang?”
She grimaced. While they were good friends, they were also in different units. With his Alchemy, Roy was better suited as part of the Artillery Brigade, and her sharpshooting with the Infantry. That being said, the Lieutenant's confusion was warranted. The moment they met, they stuck to one another like a drowning person to their life-preserver.
‘I’m so pathetic. Like a lost puppy, I fall back on familiarity when this war got too tough. Whenever I talk to him, does Major Mustang still see that shy, timid girl that he first met four years ago in his Alchemy Master’s house? I should be better than that. I have to be, or all the people I killed could never forgive me for failing them.’
Instead of telling her any of that, she shook her head.
“That… but he isn’t like your commander. He doesn’t have any sway with the generals or the Fürer. What’s the point if we can’t change anything?”
The Lieutenant chuckled.
“Honestly, while the Commander has a lot of things going for her: her genius, her connections and her charisma – just to name a few – her best quality is her outlook.”
She pointed to the small silver necklace on her neck holding the legendary “Operation Orb” she had heard so much about.
“She made this, and I know it’s just the beginning. She has this… confidence that makes me think ‘As long as I follow her, things will turn out alright’ and she has an eye to the future, like she can see this perfect world she wants to make with her own hands. And once she has her mind set on something, she never gives up.”
Riza was reminded by the talk she had with Roy just a few days earlier. He mentioned wanting to become Fürer and working to make a reality where something like Ishval would never happen again. At the time, she had difficulty believing him. He had told her something similar about helping people with her father’s alchemy before, and here he was, being nicknamed the “Mobile Crematorium”.
‘But… haven’t I also made that same mistake? Joining the military, being a participant in the genocide of the Ishvalan people, and for what? To follow my father’s student? To get over my own weaknesses? Can I really say I am any better?’
Her “inner-retrospective” was cut off by the cries of Sergeant Richter and Warrant Officer Havoc running towards them and out of the alleyway. While the Warrant Officer was mewing like a cat, Richter yelled out.
“Contact! 100 meters behind!”
This was quickly followed by rifle fire and a grenade exploding nearby. Neither did any obvious damage, so the more obvious threat was the two Ishvalan monks charging towards their position.
“For Ishvala!”
“Die Amestrians!”
The Sergeant bodily threw the Warrant Officer towards them and nimbly dodged the monk as he slammed a fist into the ground where he had been. The ground quaked and Riza realized the man had a black-metal right arm. At the impact point, the fist went into the ground almost up to the man’s elbow and he ripped it from the ground with as much ease as he put it in there.
Lieutenant Serebryakova did not hesitate to swing her MG 15 from off her back, fire on the closing enemies, and getting on the radio.
“Neptune! Neptune!”
She was not the only one with a job to do, Riza grabbed the gas mask from around her neck, twisted a dial on the front and slammed it onto her face. Rushing to the Lieutenant, she did the same to her. It was just in time too as not a second later, their entire surroundings were engulfed in flames.
With a deafening boom, the an explosion completely filled her vision and she was again reminded of the awe-inspiring and devastating power of her father’s alchemy. She could feel herself shake with fear from her imminent demise. Yet despite being in the epicenter of the flames, neither of the women were hurt. Instead, their immediate vicinity was protected by the flames by the Lieutenant’s Alchemy. The Operation Orb glowed like the sun and between that and the flames, even with the tinted glass of her gas mask, she was forced to close her eyes or be blinded.
Just as fast as the fireball started, it was likewise extinguished, and only then did she notice the pain and ringing in her ears. Thankfully, after a few moments, the effect subsided somewhat. She shook her head and tried to recover when she heard the voice of the Lieutenant beneath her.
“That… should be it… do… do you mind getting off?”
Realizing that – in her rush to get the gas mask onto the Lieutenant – she had jumped on her and pushed her down to the ground, she quickly let go of the mask and stumbled off of her and back onto her feet.
“Right, sorry.”
The Lieutenant laughed amid a succession of short coughs.
“Ack! D-don’t worry. It was scary the… first time for me too; it takes a lot of… time to get over that feeling… of ‘I’m going to die’ that you get. That being said… I think I… I think I need some help.”
Seeing Lieutenant Serebryakova struggling to sit up, Riza did not hesitate to grab her by the arm and lift her up off the ground. The woman tried to walk, but stumbled onto onto a nearby ruined and scorched wall for support. She leaned on the wall and breathed heavily.
Riza looked at her with a frown.
“I know your Lieutenant Colonel said it would be a lot harder to maintain this so-called ‘Complete Deflection’ for even a second, but she seemed to underestimate how serious it would be. Are you going to be alright?”
The Lieutenant was gasping for air and looked ready to pass out, but waved her concern off.
“I… I’ll be fine. The… the Lieutenant Colonel could hold it for 10 seconds… this… this is nothing.”
That was the crux of their “bait” plan. There was only one way to ensure that they could catch the Ishvalan monks when they could hide in tunnels and ambush them at any moment and with their numbers. They created a “zone” of control by spreading themselves thin. Each member of the 203rd Battalion would be paired with someone else from the 94th Brigade and would act as bait. When an attack happened, they would give out their codeword and a nearby Alchemist – either Ironblood, Crimson or Flame – would saturate the area with a devastating explosion.
However, such an attack would have killed their allies as well. Even with Deflect and the partnered soldiers in close proximity, there was no way to survive the sudden lack of oxygen, the sudden explosive pressure, or being cooked alive by the heat. Or at least, so everyone thought… everyone except for Lieutenant Colonel Degurechaff.
Apparently, the “Deflect” capability had no limit in theory; it could deflect anything with an atomic structure, including flames and air. There was a reason this was not normally done, however. For one, while Deflect could push things away, it did nothing to keep things in. It could prevent the pressure of the explosion from crushing their organs, but it did not prevent the air inside the “bubble” it created from being sucked out by the flame’s need for their oxygen. Because of that, they both had a personal supply of oxygen and a modified gas mask to avoid suffocating. Just as important, the effect of using so much power at once was very harsh on the user. As evidenced by the Lieutenant, even doing so for just a second was enough for them to almost pass out from the strain.
“Well, if you’re sure you’re alright…”
Riza hesitated, but realized that she had more important things to do. Moving away, she surveyed the ruined landscape. Small flames still lingered, many being fed by the oils of the bodies of the monks and other Ishvalan soldiers who were burned alive and torn apart by the explosion. Quickly, she noticed the prone forms of Sergeant Richter and Warrant Officer Havoc and rushed over to them. They did not look burned, but that was only one of the many possible ways they could have died.
“Are you alright?!”
The Sergeant did not respond, but Warrant Officer Havoc groaned and sat up.
“Ugh. We… we’re both fine. Ah… I think the Sergeant here didn’t quite do a perfect job on his mask and passed out. He’s breathing though, so that’s a good sign, right?”
She was not so sure.
“I’m no doctor, but that doesn’t sound good. We should have him checked out anyway if-”
“Riza, are you alright?!”
She heard Roy’s voice behind her and turned to see that a truck full of soldiers and Major Mustang rushed out the vehicle and towards them. The Alchemist looked almost broken; his depressed and worn-out expression was at odds with how he normally looked. She thought back to what the Lieutenant had said to her before.
‘I trust him with my life – I trusted him with my back in more ways than one – but is he able to really achieve our goals? He still has a long way to prove that I didn’t make a mistake in giving him my Father’s alchemy. Especially if he’s still treating me so personally in front of the men.’
She frowned and did not hesitate to remind him of his position.
“Major Mustang, sir! I am unharmed… but please do not refer to me by my given name, it’s unprofessional.”
He sputtered an apology.
“Ah, right sorry… um, Warrant Officer Hawkeye.”
She turned to look as the other soldiers began to treat the others for their possible injuries. One of them made their way to her but she waved them off. She did not feel injured and whatever treatment she would need could wait until they were back on base.
Roy looked out at the carnage and sighed.
“So… that’s it? The big threat the military was alluding to could be defeated so easily?”
She gave him a side-eyed glance.
“It didn’t feel quite so easy being in the middle of your fireball, sir.”
He seemed to blush at that and look away.
“Ah, well, I didn’t mean-”
She nodded.
“But you’re right. The Lieutenant Colonel, that commander girl you claimed was your rival? She’s strong. So strong that even the people that surround her are strong too. I don’t think I could take on that 1st Lieutenant, even if I had surprise on my side and a rifle in my hand. If it wasn’t for her, this whole thing would have been a slaughter… instead, we are the ones doing the butchering.”
He gave her a soft look.
“Riza…”
She shook her head and glared at him. She did not like the look on his face.
“Not another word, sir. You were the one who promised to be Fürer. You wouldn’t hesitate to end this war if you had the rank, right?”
He did not hesitate.
“Of course! All the dead soldiers… my comrades… and the Ishvalans too. None of them deserved to die for this… victory.”
She nodded and stared him in the eyes.
“Then there’s a chance this might all amount to something, someday. This war; if we can learn from it – find some way to prevent it from happening again – then all those who’ve died, they-”
She stopped and turned. She looked to one of the burned out husks and could still faintly see the look of anguish and anger on its smoldering face. She could feel the familiar feeling of guilt and shame rise up in her as she clenched her fists. She turned back to Roy.
“-they might not look so hatefully at us in the afterlife. We have to do at least that much; that’s our responsibility to them. If we can really consider them our comrades, or the Ishvalans as citizens we failed to protect… to avoid being the hypocrites that Major Kimblee talked about… you have to fix this. I know you can do it.”
He clenched his fists and stared back at her with an uncertain look.
“That’s… that’s a lot to ask. How can you be so sure?”
‘Because you have to… Because if you don’t, then what would I have left to live for?’
She saluted.
“Because I believe in you, sir. You’ve made mistakes, but you’ve never repeated them. I believed in you back then, and I’ll keep believing in you now.”
They met eyes again and – this time – she noticed a hint of that same fire he had when he first promised he would use her father’s alchemy for good.
“Then I’ll do it… we’ll do it, and if… if you ever think I’m going down the wrong path…”
She nodded
“Then I won’t hesitate to kill you, sir.”
He looked shocked at that. She noticed him audibly gulp and rub the back of his neck in nervousness.
“Ah, actually I meant that you should try to steer me back on track.”
She shrugged and walked away, patting her pistol as she did so.
“No promises, sir.”