June 21st, 1908, Lecture Hall 3, Western Command Headquarters, Amestris – Erich POV
For the first time in months, Western HQ was being used for something other than a glorified office for doing paperwork.
Several of the best strategic military minds and teachers in Amestris had rotated through its lecture halls for one purpose: to teach the Mythril Alchemist how to be an officer. At first, Lieutenant Colonel Erich Rerugen had felt insulted when the child had vowed to learn the curriculum in two months. It had taken himself just over a year to complete the two year course. Of course, that length did not account for his foundational education in logistics and military strategy taught to him by a private education afforded by his family’s storied military influence, but he had graduated younger than his peers; he had worked hard for his achievements.
It would not take Major Degurechaff two months. At the rate she was going, it may not even take her one.
‘What kind of monster is she? If I didn’t know any better, I would have thought she already knew the curriculum and the education was just a mere formality. If I had not seen her up at all hours of the night researching or memorizing for tests, I would think she was learning by divine inspiration. It is not only that she is excellent at studying though; she truly is a wunderkind. On several occasions, she has even corrected the teachers. She highlighted cutting-edge doctrines only seen in the past few months on the battlefield. Tank Maneuver, Defense-in-Depth, Combined Arms, the ink on the strategic white-papers were practically still wet. Where did she have time to even know of the concepts, yet alone to such an extent as to fact-check the best minds in Amestris?’
Perhaps he was conceited, but he had always felt at least equal to his peers. While there were many that were more gifted or hard working, he was the right combination to always achieve top marks in every course he took. So for the first time, he felt jealous of the skills of another. It was worse since every time he talked to her about it, she was annoyingly humble about her achievements. He could already see her future: a genius who excelled in everything and who changed the world in innumerable ways; in many ways she already had. That she would downplay her brilliance was equivalent to saying “I am the least worst person in Amestris”.
‘There’s just something off… something wrong about it all. It isn’t just her age or her unflappable drive.’
Perhaps if she was older he would question the nature of his fascination with her, but it was purely academic. He did not particularly like her – he might even go so far as to say he disliked her – but he prided himself as a rising star in the personnel department, so Tanya’s existence was the sort of mystery he could not ignore. He would not forgive himself if he did not properly scrutinize a potential ‘bomb’ before it exploded among the military elite.
It was for that reason that he sat in the back of the hall and watched as she argued her legal thesis on ethics. The well appointed room was a filled with rich wooden furniture and left him with an uncomfortable nostalgia of his former academic life. More than the room, however, was that he was uncomfortable with his vacillating feelings about the child. Was she really the gifted wunderkind and he was just a jealous alumni, or was there some mental instability that drove her to the military at such a young age.
The Mythril Alchemist stood in front of a panel of three professor ‘judges’. They were there to determine her grade on if it was novel and well-reasoned. She had spent the past hour going through her thesis and had begun her summary. As Erich had been delayed and missed most of the presentation, he perked up his ears and listened in on her speak.
“… and so to summarize, in the event that an armed insurrection occurs in an occupied urban area, it is necessary to provide justification that the complete populace of the zone has removed their rights as civilians in the conflict so as to curtail foreign intervention.
“I have argued for the means and methods to do so. To provide time and motivation for potential innocent parties to leave using leaflets or regular calls for evacuation. To prove the populace is an organized resistance by recording the use of uniforms such as bandannas, flags or scarves. To showcase instances of collaboration with the enemy, especially in the acquisition of weapons. Finally to prove the existence of war crimes perpetrated by the organization with pictures capturing the acts. With these methods, rather than a fortress of untouchable adversaries protected by law, the city is yet another zone of conflict through which an army can combat as outlined by the standard rules of war.
“While the court of public opinion might be divided on the result, the strict wording of international law is clear. Foreign armies are not allowed to ‘play civilian’ behind our lines. The use of such partisan activity could have the effect of either crippling our ability to wage war or otherwise damage our public perception. By using these rules to our advantage, we can maintain the ethical guidelines published by the global community while still upholding our military obligations. Thank you.”
Lieutenant Colonel Erich von Rerugen could only look on in shock at the concepts being portrayed.
‘What sort of horror is this? Surrendered civilians being manipulated like pawns by foreign powers? Counter-manipulations to discourage or use such actions to our advantage? What nation would do such a thing?! War is the place of soldiers and soldiers alone.’
Yet despite his apprehension, the judges appeared pleased. After a minute of deliberation, one of them spoke up.
“While it is in the hopes of this panel that the events you portray remain theoretical, we cannot otherwise disagree with the merits of your thesis. Several among us have even gained some inspiration. With the increasing range of artillery, we fear there may come a time where our citizens might come under attack by enemies with little recourse. For a long time, Amestris has ignored the implications of International Law, considering much of its pacifistic leanings to be in our favor. However, the recent trend of border conflicts and the potential of coalition efforts marks a potential end to that sort of attitude. We hope that you will continue to write works of a similar level to this one in your career and…”
Erich refused to hear the end of the conversation and stormed out of the Lecture Hall. He adamantly refused to believe that such a thing could happen in the modern age… but he could not completely refute the possibility. What he could see, however, was an overall worrying trend to all of Major Degurechaff’s ideas.
‘The industrialization of Alchemy used directly in warfare. Doctrines of massed combined-arms warfare. The place – or lack thereof – of civilians in urban warfare. It all feeds into a single future: Total War. The use of the entire country in war not seen since the days of peasant levees and feudal lords. But on an industrial scale, what would that look like? How many untold millions could die in such a conflict?’
While he had no proof, he was starting to believe that perhaps the Mythril Alchemist’s military leanings were not entirely altruistic. Her creation of the Operation Orb and her insistence to fight in the face of overwhelming casualties might not be solely motivated by bringing an end to war and to save lives. At the very least he was seeing a horrifying trend. Either the military was highly receptive of Tanya’s theories on an ‘Industrial Total War’, or she had fostered already existing militant fanaticism within the military.
He did not know which one was worse.
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August 1st, 1908 – Tanya POV
Major Tanya Degurechaff was glad at the speed in which she had graduated, but it was unsurprising. She had always taken an interest in military history, law and economics and so the concepts were already familiar. She had felt a little guilty using the copyrighted knowledge of her former world to make the impossible academic leaps she had, but her life was on the line! She could not afford to delay and hoped that the great generals and industrialists of the 20th century would forgive her.
But while the theoretical side of her plans were all ahead of schedule, the practical side had fallen behind in equal measure. It had taken all of her remaining time just to get the bare minimum capabilities she would need to survive on a modern battlefield.
To be an ‘Operator’ of an Operation Orb did not grant complete unfettered access to all alchemy; she could not just look at the combat alchemy used by State Alchemists and copy them flawlessly. Only a small subset of transmutation circles were quantifiable by the intermediate circles and mathematics her Orb relied on. Only a small subset of those were possible to calculate fast enough to be useful in the chaos of battle. She had to get very creative to find things that were both possible for not only herself to use, but something any Trained Alchemist she recruited could pick up as well.
In the end, she had settled on four untested ‘Operations’ for the Type 1 Orb she jointly developed with the Silver Alchemist: ‘Deflect’, ‘Destroy’, ‘Flight’ and ‘Empower’. With such a wide variety of capabilities, she could have been invincible. However, the Orb being able to do it, and an Operator being able to do it in a combat situation when bullets start flying were very different things.
The ‘Deflect’ Operation had the most potential but was extremely dangerous. Most alchemy for protecting oneself typically involved erecting a ‘shield’ of hardened dirt or stone from the local area which absorbed the full energy of a cannon shell or bullet. This was very difficult to mathematically quantify as the Orb would need to account for the composition of a near-infinite variety of soil types. It was a hopelessly complex task. Likewise, taking on the full energy of an attack head-on was demanding and inefficient. Instead, ‘Deflect’ manipulated inertia, guiding projectiles around a volume of space in the orb’s vicinity. In this way, an Operator just needed to know the approximate chemical composition, mass and speed of the bullet and the Orb did the rest. A difficult, but achievable task.
‘It might be effective, but it’s horrifying to use! Bullets practically graze my cheek if I do things right, and if I do them wrong, I’m dead… I feel like my heart will burst from my chest every time! I wish there was a better way, but that’s just how awful modern war is. That my nation is involved in such atrocity… No, I must focus on showing it off a few times and then I’ll be safely back in the rear.’
The second Operation, ‘Destroy’, on the other hand was an offensive tool that was not dangerous… anymore. During her research, she had stumbled onto the breakthrough while studying the work of the Crimson Alchemist. Two diametrically opposed circles, when applied to a bullet, would touch and detonate when it collided with something. Of course, such an obvious use of Alchemy was tried before, but there was a catch. If the circles were not made seconds before use, they would go inert as their construction at the atomic-level would break down from dust or corrosion. The Orb worked around that by constantly maintaining its structure when fired from the gun and so the few seconds of available time was more than enough to do their job
‘Of course, I did not expect that only specially-made silver bullets prevented the bullet from exploding in the gun… That had taken a lot of trial and error to perfect… I hope future Operators are appropriately grateful.’
The last two Operations ‘Flight’ and ‘Empower’ were what frustrated her the most and she was forced to give up on them almost entirely. While she could use them to some extent, they were not combat ready.
‘Flight’ was achieved by converting carbon dioxide and water in the air into methane and burning it for lift. Without the need to carry fuel, even the small amount made by an Orb could lift a few hundred pounds. She had hoped being able to fly would help to relegate Operators to safer reconnaissance roles, but it proved useless on the battlefield. With no Amestrian development into heavier-than-air flight or aerodynamic control surfaces, she had no way to supplement her lack of knowledge like she had with other topics. This had the Operation causing her to hover in full view of machine guns or artillery. This could have been fine if she could maintain a ‘Deflect’, but while she had some limited success in sustaining more than one Operation at a time, the risk was too great.
Lastly, the ‘Empower’ Operation gave the user a facsimile of ‘super-strength’ by doing the inverse of ‘Deflect’. Instead of moving bullets away from the Operator, it moved specially-crafted metal gauntlets towards something. The idea was something which Major Armstrong had helped with when she asked about his family’s signature alchemy. While he could not give her much to go on, she was surprised that he would even hint at his family’s secret alchemy. Apparently he felt he had betrayed her with his lack of assistance in stopping her ascension to State Alchemist, but she did not hold it against him. A State Alchemist must obey the State or they would not be given so much responsibility; this is a fundamental aspect of government work. It was gratifying that she at least had one other person on her side in all of this.
Using the full power of alchemy, the gloves could – in theory – lift thousands of pounds or to punch an enemy soldier into a fine mist, but it was just as dangerous to the Operator as the enemy. No doubt someone like Major Armstrong found a middle-ground solution using his absurd physique and alchemy skill to control the technique, but she was not so capable. She broke her arm trying and could not afford to do so again. Limiting it to just the strength of an adult was far more manageable. Whether it was to lift a heavy item or stabilize against recoil, she was glad to finally rely on herself a little more to do basic tasks.
While not quite the ‘superhero’ effects she had hoped, she felt she could keep herself alive on the battlefield and that would have to be good enough. With that, she would spend her final day taking a ‘walk’ on the front lines. Tomorrow, she would be heading back to West City to train her battalion in the art of Operator Warfare… she only hoped she would live that long.
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August 1st, 1908, FOB #5C, Pendleton Trenches, Amestris – Maes POV
A cold summer breeze greeted a 23-year-old Captain Maes Hughes as he emerged fully dressed from his small tent in the logistics depot he called home for the past few weeks. It was a welcome reprieve from the sun that baked him and made sleep difficult. Despite his distance and relative safety from the trenches, he was acutely aware of the front lines just on the horizon. The regular artillery bombardment – while a faint whisper – could still be heard even several kilometers away. Likewise, a general haze could be seen and the smell of gunpowder, freshly turned soil, and death left their traces in the air.
After eight grueling months, he felt that – for better or worse – he had finally become a ‘veteran’; he hated every moment. In some ways he had it worse than most. Artilleryman never saw the deaths and rifleman would have no idea of their shots did anything. As someone in reconnaissance he rarely saw any action – he would flee before engaging – but whenever he did see action, it was always up-close-and-personal.
He had developed a habit of always keeping knives on him and put in a lot of effort at the local fighting pit getting good at using them. They had saved his life two times already. Once when his gun jammed during a charge and he threw a knife into the chest of the man bringing his gun to bear. Another when an enemy charged him and their bayonet got caught in the butt of his rifle, so he jammed a knife through his neck.
He wondered what his girlfriend would think if he sent her the truth in his messages.
‘I had taken this job to bring in enough money to live a comfortable life with Gracia, but of course it was too good to be true. I was such a stupid brat. Have above-average marks in school? Why not become an officer? Oh yeah, real smart. Sure as hell was not the fast and comfortable trip to the rich life it looked like in all the recruitment posters. Death from above at any moment, suicidal charges against machine guns. At least with the armistice on using gas there hasn’t been any more direct attacks, but how long is that going to last?’
He stretched and made his way to the Officers’ Mess for breakfast where his current task awaited him: supervising the Mythril Alchemist Major Tanya Degurechaff in whatever ‘experiment’ Central had her doing. He did not like brats and he definitely did not like it when a State Alchemist came along to ‘play war’. Every so often, some ‘genius’ from Central would come along with a new toy that made everything worse. The last time that happened was the aforementioned introduction of gas. As such, he vehemently refused the job, but was given no choice. Just a month earlier he had been sick from eating a spoiled potato and so was the highest ranking soldier that was both ineligible for combat and not stuck in a hospital somewhere.
He opened the flap of the tent and found the Major eating a light breakfast of sausage and eggs. If not for the uniform and the mug of crappy coffee, it would almost seem like he was transported back to his girlfriend’s house. Gracia had a niece that looked almost exactly like the girl. He had been shocked by her appearance right up until she opened her mouth. Something about the way she spoke just screamed ‘take this person seriously’.
The Alchemist was smiling into her breakfast which still sent chills down his spine. She was the only one that he had seen give a genuine smile since he arrived on the front eight months ago. What’s worse was it was not out of ignorance. She had seen the slaughter on the front first-hand, but she never gave any outward sign that it bothered her.
Wishing to lighten the mood for his own sake, he spoke up.
“Good Morning Major Degurechaff. I see that the taste of the coffee still has not driven you away for good.”
She looked up and gave him a smile he would consider ‘cute’ in any other circumstance.
“Ah! Captain Hughes, I hope you had a good night’s sleep. You have to get what you can when you’re back in the rear, both in terms of sleep and coffee. While it tastes little better than mud, it has its redeeming qualities… mainly the caffeine.”
He nodded at the wisdom, but still did not have the heart to give more than a small smirk in return. He thought of anything he could say that might brighten the mood between them. He took out a picture of Gracia.
“This is my girlfriend Gracia. Isn’t she just the cutest most beautiful woman you have ever laid your eyes on? Well, not to say you are not also cute, of course, Major.”
The Mythril Alchemist seemed to flinch at that for some reason. Perhaps he had overstepped since they did not know each other that well. Regardless of her concern, it did not appear to be egregious as she offered the seat next to her. He quickly took a plate of the rubbery breakfast food and sat down. With a bit of food in him, he found himself feeling a little better and tried to keep up an optimistic tone.
“So Major, what’s on the menu today? More testing? I’ve heard from Administration that the mustering field will be free again all day today, not that I know what you use it for.”
The Major shook her head.
“No, not today Captain. Unfortunately, this is my last day so there can be no more tests. I’ll be ‘field-testing’ today and you will have to come to act as a witness. I honestly should have gone to the front yesterday… anyway, better late than never right?”
Captain Hughes paled. He was grateful that he would no longer be playing babysitter for the State Alchemist, but he had no idea or desire to see what she had in store. Everything about her ‘experiments’ were kept under wraps and only his XO Colonel Raven or some of the guards she brought from Central were allowed to see them. His mind ran rampant on what it could possibly be. Last time it was Chlorine Gas. He tried to find out what he was going to be getting into.
“Are… are you sure whatever this is, is legal? The Alchemy Accords make it pretty clear that Alchemy is illegal in war.”
While he did not consider himself a scholar, he did read up on the basics during officer training.
The Major gave him a fierce grin that was at odds with her otherwise innocent-looking face.
“Ah, that’s the common misconception; Alchemy isn’t strictly illegal in war. While it’s true that State Alchemists are normally barred from the front lines, the exact wording of the Accords are ‘any unique alchemy cannot be used in a war’. That wording is key: if its alchemy that can be used by other alchemists, then it’s fine. You’ve probably seen it yourself. The artillery shells and guns are made with alchemy, and Trained Alchemists even build-up earthwork embankments or pillboxes using pre-made circles on the Front. Likewise things like Chimeras have are useless in an age of machine guns, but they are still allowed. Modern war could not exist on the scale it has without liberal uses of mass-produced alchemy. My project is just an evolution of those ideas.”
He stared at his plate, no longer feeling hungry.
‘Just what is the world coming to? Young kids killing, being killed, and making better weapons to kill more. Death from above from where there is no protection, just hiding in a trench hoping you won’t be next. Gas attacks not killing but causing people to live in perpetual agony. What is the point of all of it? Where does it end?’
He looked up at the cute child-like smile of the State Alchemist before him with dread.
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August 1st, 1908, Hill 44, Pendleton Trenches, Amestris – Tanya POV
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The rest of their breakfast was done mostly in silence with Captain Hughes looking a little dour. Tanya felt like it was her fault, but she was not exactly sure why. No doubt escorting her around and sitting out her tests was not what he had signed up for as a soldier. He was probably a workaholic like herself. It was unfortunate that past experience proved that no one would take her seriously without a chaperon. Hopefully with her return tomorrow, the man will be back to his cheery self fighting hard for his country.
With their meal done, the two found themselves overlooking the front lines from atop Hill 44 named for its average height in meters above the nearby flat grassland. As far as the eye could see were the zig-zag pattern of trench lines only broken up by the detonation of artillery fire.
‘Barbed wire, broken trees, the stench of death… if there is a place that could be called hell, this is it.’
Tanya could see the tell-tale signs that Pendleton was a World War 1-style conflict. What frustrated her was that Amestris had long developed the ability to manufacture tanks, yet from her talks with Brigadier General Hans von Zettour, they were never given to the Western Front in enough numbers to make a difference. Likewise, enemy mechanized assaults were halted by the Amestrian defense-in-depth strategies, and the ample use of field guns and Panzerfaust.
‘What an utter waste of Human Resources. Just what is Central thinking getting into all of these conflicts without any thought to how they could sustain them? Is securing a lasting peace so difficult that throwing thousands of men into their deaths is the preferred solution?’
Looking to her left, he could see that Captain Hughes was clenching his fists in frustration as well. No doubt for a learned-officer like him, he could see the same thing as she could. She turned to him.
“Don’t worry Captain. With my new weapon, fighting like this will be a thing of the past.”
For some reason, her words seemed to make his mood even worse.
‘He probably doesn’t believe me. I can understand having a hesitation to trust a weapon that hasn’t been properly field tested. Now that the secret of my Project will soon be out of the bag, I can finally show him first-hand the power of the modern world!’
The fortified hill they were on had a decent view of the battlefield and was a place from which mortar teams and snipers opportunistically picked off unprotected infantry. While that made it a prime target for counter-artillery by the opposing side, it was too entrenched and the hill too large for the shelling to make much difference. It was for this reason that she chose it, it was the perfect place to try ‘Destroy’.
Using ‘Empower’ on her metal gauntlets, she brought a large crate down into a trench to act as a platform. She grabbed a box of silver ammunition, a scoped Model 88 commission rifle and jumped up onto the crate. With her higher vantage point, her head just barely crested the top of the trench. Before she could use the sniper rifle, however, she took out a pair of binoculars and took in the situation on the enemy’s lines.
‘Machine gun nests… a few wooden pillbox-style positions… there’s an artillery position just out of range, but I could probably land a bullet somewhere close enough… Can’t see a lot of people, but I guess that only makes sense. If I could see them, our snipers could too.’
While the 8mm rounds of her weapon could theoretically fire out to over a kilometer, the time for the bullet to travel and the weather in between usually meant a missed shot, especially with the primitive scopes available. However, the opposing trenches were only 400 meters away from her hill and so more shots would hit than miss. Certainly no one would risk being visible unless there was an attack.
Putting away her binoculars, she took aim with her rifle. She pulled back the bolt action and loaded a cartridge-clip of the specialty-made silver rounds. Aiming at a machine gun nest, she had her Orb transmute the ‘Destroy’ operation onto the round, locked it into the chamber and then used ‘Empower’ to steady the gun.
Pulling the trigger, the enemy machine gun, and everything in a 2 meter radius exploded, scattering broken metal wreckage everywhere. She could not help but voice out a little laugh.
“It works, it actually works.”
For over an hour, she continued. Transmute, lock, fire, transmute, lock, fire. Every five rounds, she would load another clip and continue. Shot after shot went into every possible hard-point on the line: mortar positions, command bunkers, field guns, even a few artillery that she could ‘lob’ past her 1 kilometer range.
Throughout all this, she realized that Captain Hughes was no doubt bored and so she tried to start a conversation multiple times, to no avail.
“Why would Creta waste their human resources like this? You would think they would have retreated by now.”
“Why would they clump together like that? They’re just making themselves a bigger target.”
“I had always thought there would be in more pieces… I guess it really is true that it’s not just the explosion that kills but the pressure…”
Of course, while she compared the present circumstances to the video games and movies she had watched growing up, it did not mean she was desensitized. These were real people and they were dying pointless, needless, deaths. Nevertheless, she knew the Amestrian soldiers would not appreciate her empathizing with the enemy. Her knowledge of these conflicts from her studies of Imperial Japanese history made it clear that the strong Amestrian propaganda portrayed the enemy as monsters to destroy and she never heard even a whisper to the contrary. That did not leave much left to talk about. Either she said some unpatriotic things about the current state of the war, or she ‘talked shop’ about the violence playing out before her. For the sake of her career, she chose the latter.
It was aggravating that Captain Hughes did not seem to like her enough to respond.
*BAM* *BAM* *BAM*
Artillery began to rain down near her position and so she quickly made way to find shelter.
‘Finally. Took them long enough, to try counter-attacking. Anyhow, I would say that this has been an effective test of the ‘Destroy’ Operation. With the cost-equivalence of 150mm howitzer shells, they are very accurate and detecting my position is all but impossible even if the damage leaves something to be desired. However, with the enemy panicking and their artillery making any more shooting difficult, I should move on to test ‘Deflect’.’
Nodding to herself, Tanya calmly put away her rifle and motioned for herself and the Captain to change positions. When he failed to follow her, she looked up to find Captain Hughes with a strange expression on his face. She could not help be ask him what is wrong.
The man seemed to jump out of his skin at her voice, no doubt he had trouble hearing her through the artillery. He looked at her with a frustrated expression.
“You- no, nothing’s wrong Major Degurechaff… nothing’s wrong at all…”
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August 1st, 1908, Harris Field North-West Trenchline, Pendleton Trenches, Amestris – Maes POV
Despite having not done a single bit of real work all day, Captain Maes Hughes was exhausted. The image of a child gleefully butchering the Cretan soldiers with her ‘magic sniper rifle’ had left him questioning everything he knew.
‘Is this what war has come to? If I ever have a daughter like Tanya, would she look at humans the same way? Like ‘resources’ puppeteered on the other side of a scope, and not people with families and lives of their own?’
If there was one optimistic side to all of this, he no longer felt as guilty for his own “crimes”. The next time he saw Gracia, he felt he was going to have a lot to talk about.
He had little time to ponder that as the made their way down to the forward-most trench of the line. He could not help but look through one of the periscopes mounted on the trench wall which peered out over the embankment. Before him stood no-man’s land: a 250 meter wide expanse of broken trees and barbed wire which was pre-sighted by the artillery of both sides. Any offensive through the area was almost certain death and so for the past month, neither side was up to pushing forwards. Despite this, deaths still mounted as artillery pounded forward trenches and snipers took out anyone foolish enough to leave cover. To the common soldiers, it was a place to hide and cross-fingers that neither side would give an order to attack.
Today was different as they walked down into a tunnel and into a command post. It was not long before the Major began arguing with one of the officers of his own 24th Infantry Division on the need to order an assault.
“Yes, I know my presence here is unexpected, but my project has been labeled a military secret by orders of the Fürer. I cannot explain things in detail, so I must order you to be ready to charge the opposing trench on my signal.”
1st Lieutenant Focker was a man Maes knew with passing familiarity as someone who greatly valued the lives of his soldiers. He was the kind of passionate man who should not have been on the battlefield. He had difficulty following hard orders but what charismatic and a nice guy to talk to. He would have done very well as a manager or a teacher.
Lieutenant Focker almost growled at the smaller officer.
“And I am telling you that my orders are clear! I have not received any word on an upcoming assault and I frankly don’t care what rank you are or who you work for. We are already in poor shape and I will not risk the lives of my men on some alchemy ‘adventure’.”
Captain Hughes winced at the wording. While he did not know Major Degurechaff to be a very emotional person, she needed only to relay the words to Focker’s superior and the Lieutenant could find himself in a court martial at best or a drumhead trial followed by a firing squad at worst. It was not common, but with the line so close to collapse, disobeying orders was taken deadly serious. While the Mythril Alchemist was not in Lieutenant Focker’s military department, she had signed orders from the Fürer. Anyone that put themselves in her way was a traitor to the State. It honestly made Hughes question the point of his position was when most people bent themselves over backwards to accommodate the Major.
‘If the Fürer gave me orders to fix things, what would I do?’
His thoughts went unanswered as the Major was – thankfully – not offended by Focker’s words.
“I understand, but we both have our roles to play. Please confirm everything with Colonel Raven if you have any concerns. I was promised your complete co-operation.”
At the name of the Battalion’s chief officer, Lieutenant Focker grimaced and picked up a nearby phone.
“Hi, patch me to Colonel Raven of the 24th Division, Battalion 9. No, this is 1st Lieutenant Focker and- what, my code? But this line is secured… alright, fine. It is OJV22. Yes, I’ll hold… Colonel Raven, sir. This is 1st Lieutenant Focker from Harris Field reporting… Look. I have a Major Degurechaff asking me to- Right… But sir! You can’t seriously… Understood.”
The Lieutenant had a very dark expression as he hung up the phone.
“It seems that my orders have changed. What did you say that your signal was, Major, sir?”
Either not seeing or ignoring the Lieutenant’s candid sarcasm, the Major gave a serious nod in return.
“You will see me wave a large red flag. On that mark you are to issue the assault. Please be ready in the next 20 minutes. That is all.”
With that, they left.
Focker’s hesitation and anger was understandable and Maes empathized with him: the child brokered no discussion and had pulled rank. Nevertheless, while everyone seemed visibly upset, no one dared try anything physical with the State Alchemist. They had heard the tales of the Crimson and the Iron Blood Alchemists who would take summary executions into their own hands. If anything, the Major’s small size put others even more on edge.
‘I’ve already seen the devastation wrought by her alchemy firsthand. Appearances really don’t matter where State Alchemists are concerned.’
Taking a Bergmann Light Machine Gun, six Luger pistols and over 1000 rounds of ammunition in four belts from a local depot, the two marched to the forward-most trench once more. The Major looked ridiculous hefting the heavy ammo boxes, loading one of the belts into the gun that was almost as large as she was, and holstering the pistols onto her chest like bandoliers. At the same time, the effortless way she moved with such a load was terrifying.
With a sudden leap, the over-ladened State Alchemist landed above the trench wall and into no-mans land. Captain Hughes almost ran after the Major, but decided that following her into no-mans land was suicide. Instead, he called out to her from in the trench.
“Tanya! What are you doing?!”
Not a moment later and cracking sounds rang out as enemy snipers or rifleman began to fire at the figure of the Major. Maes dropped into the trench and immediately felt ashamed he did not grab her in time.
“Don’t worry Captain, I’ll be fine. I only ask that you use one of the periscopes and take note of what’s going to happen. Like I said, you will need to provide Central with a witness account.”
He looked up to see the young girl was no worse for wear. The crackling of bullets seemed to ricochet off of nothing and failed to hit her. Realizing that the Major was somehow using alchemy protect herself, he did as ordered and moved to a nearby periscope to see over the trench without exposing himself. He heard other soldiers down the line begin to speak in hushed tones about a ‘witch’.
Looking through the simple mirrored lens, Maes saw Major Degurechaff began to run through no-man’s land. To anyone else, the sheer absurdity of the action would have been seen as foolishly suicidal at best, and yet Maes felt more worried about the enemy. Despite the mayhem her previous alchemy weapon had sewn throughout the enemy lines, many soldiers still manned the opposing trench. Upon seeing her form heading towards them, many rifleman began taking pot-shots. Despite the many of the rounds clearly hitting, they appeared to ‘bounce’ off the girl like she was made of steel.
She ran forwards as the enemy brought machine guns to bear against her.
She ran forwards as field guns that would have torn through a tank ‘missed’ to no effect.
She ran forwards as mortars rained down, but by then, she was already too close and they harmlessly passed far over her head and deep into no-mans-land.
Finally, he saw her jump down into the enemy’s defensive line, and disappear from view. Rather than seeing anything, he began to hear it instead. Screams, yells and gunfire sounded in the distance for what felt like hours. Over the next 30 minutes, the sounds died off into silence. Then the Major jumped out from the trench flying a large red flag. The signal to advance.
At the signal, whistles down the line sounded off and the Company B of Battalion 9 of the 24th Infantry Division cried out. They stormed at the enemy lines. Unlike his previous gut-wrenching charges, the assault was not met with artillery, mortars or machine guns, but with silence. Remembering his orders and worrying after the Major, Maes followed after the men.
As they arrived at the enemy’s lines, he was struck with horror at what he found.
‘This isn’t war… it’s a massacre.’
The Major had unleashed her ultimate weapon to devastating effect. While her ‘Destroy’ Operation was powerful, it was ultimately just a more accurate panzerfaust or less noticeable field gun. ‘Deflect’ on the other hand…
All around him, were the corpses of the Creta Infantry. Hundreds littered the trench where the Major had started her gruesome hunt. Bodies piled together at choke-points where two or more trenches combined. Dozens more laid face-down in the mud farther away, having been shot in the back while fleeing. The Major herself was covered in mud and gore; clearly her ‘Deflect’ did little to protect her from fluids and dirt. Rather than appearing mortified though, she looked unconcerned and had busied herself with doing a poor job wiping her face with the coat of a dead soldier.
With the scene finally hitting him, the Captain turned around and fought back the urge to throw up. He had seen fields of dead before, but this felt different.
‘Even gas is less gruesome than this. You can hide from artillery, run from tanks and wear masks from gas. This? She hunted them down like dogs, slaughtering them one by one in close quarters. What can you do to stop this? The Major said she was going to train more people to use her weapons? What would war look like with 50, 100, or a thousand such reapers of death?’
Feeling the bile still in his throat, he turned to the child soldier.
“W-why? Major, why would you go out of your way to make something like?”
The Major looked up in confusion as though not even understanding what she had just done. She tilted her head to the side.
“Huh? Well, for victory. What else?”
---
August 1st, 1908, 24th Infantry Division - 9th Battalion Headquarters, Pendleton Trenches, Amestris – Maes POV
Captain Maes Hughes had spent the rest of the day writing to his girlfriend Gracia and looking at her picture. He had done a lot of thinking. He had considered quitting the army. He had bruised his knuckles on a wooden post outside his tent. He had even briefly considered killing Major Degurechaff, but immediately regretted the thought.
‘This isn’t her fault… we… Amestris made her like that.’
Having crossed out his writing and threw the would-be letter in the trash. Instead, he wrote a different one to his XO who responded to him with surprising haste. Not wanting for let his superior officer wait, he quickly headed out into the refreshing cool air.
The sun had set, but the war went on, and so the Administrative Tent for his Battalion was still in operation. Clerks and aids rushed to and from the tent, delivering deployment notices and logistics updates to the senior staff. Amidst this flurry of activity, Maes opened the flap and saluted his XO, Colonel Raven who saluted back with a charismatic smile.
Captain Maes Hughes stood up straight.
“Captain Hughes, reporting as ordered.”
Colonel Raven laughed and waved his hand.
“Thanks for coming, it is good to talk to someone for a change! When you start to work in administration, you see people less and less and see paper more and more! Anyway, you’re not here to listen to me talk. I’m glad that whole business with the State Alchemist went without any problems. I know you fighting men don’t appreciate the work they do but we have our orders…”
He shuffled through a few documents on his desk before pulling one of them out.
“Ah, here! You requested a transfer out of this Battalion… do you mind if I ask why?”
Maes sighed.
“It’s not because of your command, sir, I promise. I just… need a change of pace. I suppose you could say I have become disillusioned with how the war is going on.”
The Colonel smiled sadly and with a knowing look.
“I see… that being said, you’re not the only one requesting transfers or just outright quitting the military right now. You aren’t exactly going to get a choice in where you go. You know there is a civil war going on right?”
Maes screwed up his face.
‘Damnit, why does the military have to be this way? Fighting hellish trench warfare or against our own citizens. Maybe I should quit the military after all.’
As he thought that, his thoughts to his girlfriend. Gracia was waiting for him after his year-long tour was up and the bonuses and promotions he was getting was going to be funding their future wedding and home together. He could not afford to quit now. He had just paid off his debts, and he would have to go back into debt to get a job somewhere else. It would be like the past few years of his life were pointless.
Reluctantly, he nodded and accepted the transfer.
The Colonel nodded back.
“Alright, I will sign off on the transfer, but are you sure? Once you accept, there won’t be any turning back.”
“Sir… I’m sure. Anywhere has got to be better than here.”
The Colonel gave him a sad, knowing smile and scribbled on the page, giving the papers over to him.
“Alright. Your transfer is approved. I hope that you find better luck in your new Battalion.”
He nodded and turned away, as he left the tent, he looked down at his transfer papers, confirming they looked correct.
‘I can only hope that Ishval is better than this…’
---
August 21st, 1908, Handelson Memorial Hospital, Constantine, Creta – Alphonso POV
Sergeant 1st Class Alphonso Bieri of the Cretan 29th Republican Rifle Division, 4th Support Battalion, Red Company, 8th Platoon, woke with a start and felt a dull pain throughout his body. He groaned as he sat back on his hospital bed and looked up a the ceiling. This was the first day he felt lucid enough to make sense of his situation but also the first day where the pain had come back. It was not worth it; there was little need for him to understand.
He had been shot in the back and the bullet had impacted his spine. Because of that, he was immediately and permanently paralyzed from the neck down. He had laid face-down in the mud for 2 days. Throughout that time, he did not know what was worse: the pain, not being able to breathe, or starving and dying of thirst. He somehow managed to survive long enough to be rescued when Creta started recovering the dead, but he was still not sure if it was worth it just to be alive in his current state.
Since then, people had tried to talk to him, but hey were little more than messy blurs to his opioid- and fever-induced mind. As he weeks went by, however, his mind began to work again, but he wished it otherwise. He knew he would have to answer for what he saw.
‘What I saw…? That thing… That- oh god…’
He felt nauseous and was about to throw up when he was startled from his thoughts by one of his nurses came into his recovery room with a Colonel he did not recognize. The officer wore a medical mask that entirely covered his face with only a pair of aggressive eyes peering down on him. The nurse tried to placate his growing distress, but he could not help but tense up in fear.
‘Oh god those eyes! Just like… just like-’
The female nurse’s fingers went in his mouth and pried his jaw apart.
“Please Alphonso, you have to stop biting your tongue. You’re hurting yourself!”
The Colonel pushed the nurse out of the way and yelled at him.
“Snap out of it soldier!”
He instinctively tried to straighten his back, but failed. Nevertheless, he let out a loud “Sir!”.
The officer grumbled and pulled out a chair, sitting himself down next to his bed.
“Sergeant Bieri, I have been trying for the past 2 weeks to get an answer out of you and the military has run out of patience. I need to know what you saw!”
‘I don’t want to… damn it, I have to! I have to tell them all! They need to know!’
He tried to sit up, but all he could do was twist his neck to one side.
“It was horrible. That monster, that devil…”
The officer nodded and took out a pad of paper and a pen.
“It’s alright, we have time. Please, from the beginning. There was an attack on the trench and some unknown explosions. Start with that.”
He clenched his eyes, trying to think back to the time before that.
“I wasn’t on duty at the time. I arrived after it started to help ferry out the wounded. There were just explosions out of nowhere. At first we thought it might be long-range artillery. When the distance is long enough, the shells don’t really make a sound coming in, you know? But the explosions were too small and too accurate. Every shot hit something important and the damage was only about what a field gun could produce. It was like a 77mm or our 75mm, just a lot faster. We tried looking all over for it, but it just wasn’t there. Eventually the Lieutenant just called in an artillery on the enemy lines. Whatever it was stopped after that.”
The Colonel said nothing, just writing down things on his pad of paper. He looked up, but Alphonso could not tell what expression the officer might have been making under the mask. At the very least his eyes were no longer as horrifyingly intense.
“Alright Sergeant. Now I know this is a lot, but I want you to take it slow. What happened after that?”
Alphonso took a few shaky breaths.
“Right… it was quiet for a little while. Like a half-hour or so. We were just pounding on them with artillery so that made sense, but not long after it stopped she- that thing showed up-”
The officer leaned forwards.
“She, you said she. Who was she?”
He began to cry.
“That monster, it took the shape of a little girl. God, why? It was like this little girl just started playing around on a battlefield. How could anyone take that seriously… those Amestrian bastards. It doesn’t make any sense. What was she doing there? No, no, it wasn’t a little girl. It was a devil. It laughed as it killed us. It just laughed. We couldn’t do anything. Oh god!”
He felt a hand on his cheek.
“Snap out of it! This is important! This girl killed your company? How? Why didn’t you kill her?”
Alphonso clenched his teeth in rage.
“We tried damn it! We tried everything! We dumped a belt from the Hotchkiss, 2 shots from the 75mm and God knows how many mortars once we knew what we were dealing with. It just bounced off like a cannonball off a hill. Then it came for us. Had a machine gun and just reaped a harvest like death itself. I’d already pissed myself by this point and just started running. Just delayed the inevitable though. I should be dead.”
The officer rubbed his head in frustration.
“Focus. Was there anything different about this girl? Did you notice her rank, her clothing? Was she wearing a silver pocket watch?”
He closed his eyes, the tears burning as they came down.
“It- the thing wore an officer uniform for sure. First thing I noticed because I was expecting her to be wearing full-plate with how nothing hit her… I just didn’t make sense!”
He realized something.
“No, not a pocket watch, but some kind of necklace, a large glowing sphere-shaped thing.”
The Colonel put the notebook away and stood up and put a hand on Alphonso’s shoulder.
“Congratulations, Sergeant. It seems like you have just proved yourself invaluable to Creta. We may even be able to cure you of your paralysis.”
For the first time since that, he felt a small glimmer of hope.
“How?”
The officer leaned down, practically coming face-to-mask with Alphonso.
“First, let me ask you. How do you feel about wolves?”
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Author’s Note