Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

He was not a truly exceptional individual by most statistical measures.

He was dedicated, but lacked the genius to make connections to things he had not been explicitly taught. He was curious and great at memorization, but unfocused and unsociable, often slipping into an internal dialog and missing important social cues. He struggled to come to terms with the world around him throughout his childhood and found himself floundering in every aspect of his life. It seemed he was destined to be one of those citizens who “did not quite make it” in life, if put generously. A new statistic among the tax moochers and criminals who were a burden on the normal people of society. It was in this way that he found himself reading every scrap of non-fictional information he could find, desperate to find his place among the successful.

Then he found it, hidden deep in an Economic Textbook he struggled to memorize, he had found his chance at redemption.

The Chicago School of Macroeconomics.

Of course, it was not the topic itself that was of true importance – although it is very interesting – rather it was that the topic catalyzed his understanding of the world. Society, he found, was underpinned by a set of solid, foundational rules through which it functioned. It laid out a path such that even a mediocre talent like himself could become successful.

‘How has no one told me about this?! Be kind to others? Respect your parents? How can someone go through life with such vague guidelines?! Is it not better that the world is shaped by a clear and easy-to-understand structure? Society has worked hard to construct this rational and logical framework. Why is it ignored? It is a travesty of the highest order!’

It was here that he soon delved into the world of economics and psychology. The Social Contract made it clear that everyone was bound not just by the legal rules, but numerous social ones as well. Likewise, Signaling Theory showed that so long as one exuded the proper auditory and visual responses expected of one in their current role, everyone would treat them like they fit that role. He laments those like him who struggled with this before the advent of the Internet. With the near infinite knowledge of the world at his fingertips, he needed only to memorize the expectations of himself for the various situations he could reasonably find himself in. There were numerous scientific and qualitative studies on all manner of situations: what one expects of a candidate in an interview, conversational topics to bring up with your boss at a party or casual conversation with coworkers by the water cooler.

Of course, he was no robot. He had feelings and opinions of his own about how he would prefer the world to work, but the world was good enough to him that he had no concern in keeping those thoughts to himself. He felt no more hypocritical than the average human; at least he was aware of the hypocrisy. So long as he kept his head down and focused on his path to the top, he was free in every sense that mattered. After all, being able to do and say whatever you wanted was just another name for Anarchy, and no sane individual wanted that. By the principles of Liberalism, it was better to sacrifice a few unimportant freedoms in order to maximize the rights of all members of society. The people who would refuse to let go of their “freedom to kill” in order to gain the “right to not being killed” were not worth keeping among the population.

By the time he had graduated, no one could doubt that he signaled the role of the ideal job candidate; someone with a degree in a sought-after field that would do exactly what was expected when it was expected.

---

February 22^nd, 2013 – Corporate Head Office, Tokyo, Japan – Salaryman POV

In a modern glass skyscraper in downtown Tokyo, he sat working at his desk. His office was pristine; containing everything one would be expected of an ideal Salaryman. Numerous awards he had received for his exceptional loyalty and service to the company lined his desk, employee manuals and training material covered his shelves and his college degree hung proudly behind his head. No matter if they were the receptionist or the CEO, to any rational person employed at his company it was a room which commanded respect.

An Employee entered his office with a face full of anger and slammed the door behind him. It appeared that an exception towards the respect he usually received was going to be made today. He let his right eye twitch in annoyance but remained professional.

He pointed to the seat across from his desk.

“Have a seat.”

The Employee quickly took a seat but also took the request as an invitation to begin a rambling diatribe.

“What the hell is going on here?! I have been an employee of this company for over 5 years and this is the thanks I get?! My wife is in the hospital and you people think you have the right to demand I work though that?! She could damn well be dead right now while we're having this conversation! The only reason I am even here is because HR sent me an email saying I'm going to be fired! I demand an explanation!”

Throughout the cobbled together sentences, the Salaryman could only focus on the spittle from the man’s mouth fall on the edge of his desk. It took more willpower than he expected to not fire the man right there.

‘I can see now why HR recommended this to me. What a worthless case. If this employee had any sense, he would be dropping into Dogeza and begging me to let him keep his job. Doesn't he know that one bad reference in this industry is enough to permanently remove any chance of promotion?’

However, there were rules for this situation that he had to abide by. It would do no one any good if this man found some way to involve the company in a lawsuit. With a brief sigh, the Salaryman straightened up and faced the Employee with a neutral, professional expression.

“It is unfortunate that this tragic event has affected you so strongly, but this company works under a set of regulations you agreed to when we hired you. Over the past year, you have already used your paid leave and unpaid leave and yet you continue to be absent from work. The company has a generous bereavement plan for circumstances just like yours, but you must provide regular updates with your supervisor and it requires that you to work at least half of every month. You-”

The Employee got up from the chair and slammed a hand on the desk.

“How many times do I have to go through this with you people?! That paid leave was for a vacation before my wife's health took a turn for the worse. Because of the shitty pay and insurance I get with this crappy company, I can barely cover the hospital bills but I can take out loans as long as I have this job. I need to be there for my wife, can't you understand that?!”

While he could strain his mental faculties to try to find something to sympathize with the Employee, he found nothing.

‘There is a famous quote which says “Compromise is the best and cheapest lawyer.” That the Employee is unsatisfied with his circumstances is only natural. I have issues and grievances in my life too, you know, like hearing you yell at me! But I know better than to air my dirty laundry and risk my job for it. How ironic that he is the only one in the company that can’t see where this line of inquiry is heading. The fact that this is coming to my desk at all is proof that he’s gone too far.’

He did not give voice to these opinions and instead spoke out in an even tone.

“You're going through a hard time, I understand that, but you need to come back into work. You are not being paid for when you’re absent and it this is going to affect your future prospects. You only need to come in every other day-"

The Employee looked like he was going to pull his hair out. The man clenched a fist at him with a face going incandescent with rage.

“You- you bastard! Is this how it is going to be?! I worked tirelessly for this company! I’ve earned at least this much!”

For the first time in the meeting, he showed a non-professional emotion. Rubbing his eyes, he could feel a headache starting to come on. Reluctantly, he felt that there was no way to salvage the situation. He let the polite fiction of the professional social contract drop and unveil the cold, hard facts as it stood.

“I do not see how you are going to achieve what you want with this. This company is not going to entertain your specific needs. HR has pushed this to me because of your belligerence, and I can only bring this up with your VP in Accounting. What do you think they will say? They will tell me to do my job and fire you. It is because of your history here that this has not already happened. We have no strong need for employee retention at the moment, so I just can’t see how we can accommodate you. Please give up before you do something you'll regret.”

The Employee seemed to take this as an invitation and got up from the chair, kicking it over.

“I'm not going to let this company boss me around!"

Not getting up from his desk, the Salaryman sighed.

‘I think that should do it. No one can complain to me that I didn’t try.’

"Then I have no choice. You're fired. Collect your things from your desk. Your manager might-"

The Salaryman stopped as he looked up. The Employee looked like he was going to throw a punch and so he leaned back in his seat, unsure what to do. Luckily, it seemed the man still had some sense left and stormed out of the office.

The Salaryman sighed and quickly opened a new email. He would make sure that he had a sufficient paper trail detailing the specifics of the case. He made sure that there would be no legal consequences either for the company or himself, but that did not mean he was happy with the result. Such cases always disappointed him and he could only confess his confusion.

“What an utter waste of Human Resources...”

---

March 14^th, 2013 – Downtown, Tokyo, Japan – Salaryman POV

It had been just over two weeks since that last awful interaction with the Former Employee.

While it always felt like a waste of time to manage such troublesome cases, there was nothing for it. Every society had its outliers and often it was too difficult to correct for every little mistake others made. The Sunk Cost Fallacy established that not quickly moving on from a mistake was often far worse than the original mistake. And so regardless of the time and effort in recruiting and training a replacement, it was the right thing to do. He had to rely that while the company stock would have plenty of dips, it was ever increasing. With that optimistic outlook, he carried on with business as usual. The only exception to he wonderfully ordinary routine was when his Supervisor came by to tell him to “watch his back”.

He could not understand what there was to worry about. The Former Employee had obvious issues with authority and was prone to emotional outburst, but there were doubtless many more people to blame than himself. He was reminded of the many bullies in his elementary school days with similar traits and wondered how many of them grew out of their proclivities in adolescence. While logically he knew that even ordinary people could turn to crime, statistics laid bare the fact that the world has never been a safer place. It would be paranoid to the highest degree – and even a bit arrogant – to think he was significant enough to fall into the statistic of “victim of violent crime”.

He was vindicated as more days passed.

So he found himself leaving the company in high spirits after a long day at work. With a confident stride, he waded though the dense crowds of the downtown Tokyo sidewalks.

As he pushed through the throngs of people, he felt a particularly hard shove push him into the back of a car parked on the street. He was confused at first why a car door would be open, then marveled briefly at the coincidence of him falling into one.

“What-”

He strained to get the words out and found himself suddenly weak. A sharp pain began to spread from his stomach. He looked down to see a knife now sticking from his body and a red stain spreading on his white shirt beneath his open suit jacket.

Knowing he could not speak properly, he struggled to reach for his phone and call the emergency number, but was stopped.

Someone twisted the knife and stuffed a rag in his face.

“Now, now, now. Can’t have that. Don’t want you crying for help.”

---

He struggled to open his eyes as pain filled his mind and blood filled his vision. He could only assume he was drugged for he knew he could not possibly have stayed sleeping while being in such agony.

He was in a dark room filled with macabre elements. Candles served as the only light source in the small room. Some sort of runic circle covered the floor he lay on and various metal blades and chains filled the walls. In any other situation, he would have considered the room an absurd caricature of an evil cultist’s dungeon or a mad scientist’s laboratory. As the circumstances currently stood, he was in no mood to be amused.

“Why...?”

A clang of something metallic could be heard behind him. A man’s voice rang out in the darkness

“You dare to ask why when you took everything away from me?! The last moments with my wife, robbed by you and your greedy company?!”

He could only assume that his would-be murderer was the Former Employee.

‘How ridiculous... my manager was right, but I doubt that even he could imagine a farce like this...’

He briefly tried to rationalize the situation, but could only stare blankly; there was no point in trying to understand the reasons of a madman. He did not know whether to laugh or cry. That his final moments could be experiencing this sheer contradiction of the rationality he believed in seemed like the sort of irony he did not deserve.

Nevertheless, as the Former Employee began to speak, he found himself the involuntary captive audience to the man’s mad delusions.

“My wife died during that meeting in your office, you know. While you were sitting high-and-mighty firing me, my wife couldn’t breathe! She died in a hospital bed surrounded by strangers and could not even signal to anyone she was dying! My last words to her that day was that I was going to get some more time with her! That’s all I wanted! Why couldn’t you just give me what I wanted?!What’s fair!”

‘What the hell does that have to do with me? Why not your supervisor? The HR rep that gave me your case file? I didn’t give your wife whatever disease she had. Nor did I convince the majority of society to organize itself the way it does: to maximize the productivity of the workplace so as to provide for everyone to the greatest extent. Your circumstances weren’t anyone’s fault until you attempted to ‘fix’ it. Now your career is ruined and once this crime has been uncovered, your life will be too. And for what? The momentary satisfaction that someone you didn’t like now has it worse than you? Should I get in touch with a starving child in a war-torn nation that it is fine to kill you because your prospects are better than theirs? I do not think you would come out on top if this ‘fairness’ you talk about actually applied.’

Of course, even if he wanted to vocalized these thoughts, he could not. He could hardly breathe. He could only hope that the Former Employee was sloppy enough to leave a trail the police could follow and rescue him.

The man kicked his injured and prone form causing his view to shift. He could have sworn that the runic circle surrounding him seemed to be glowing, but he could only assume it was a figment of his adrenaline-addled mind.

The Former Employee leaned down to look at his face.

“Do you know why I waited until today to get my revenge? Who am I kidding, a robot like you could not possibly know. It’s White Day: a day where boyfriends give their girlfriends gifts. I could not possibly think of a better gift to give my wife than your life. When you see her, I hope you act exactly as you normally do. I want her to see the shit I had to put up with and that she can forgive me for not being there for her. Now-”

Sirens sounded out in the distance as he suddenly felt numerous painful stabs and then-

---

One moment he was in that dark basement, and the next moment he was in a white void. He struggled to think what he had been doing.

Then it came back to him. He looked down to see the pressed black suit he wore was once again pristine. His wounds were healed as though those last moments had never happened. Considering the fact he believed he was drugged, he wondered if this was real. Perhaps the moments in the “cultist basement” were also some sort of drug-induced hallucination.

‘Better to leave thoughts of whether this is reality be. That just leads down a road towards the Malicious Demon Hypothesis and absurdity. It is real enough to be indistinguishable to my eyes so I will assume so until proven otherwise. I can laugh about this to my family if I am actually comatose in a hospital bed somewhere.’

An echoing voice spoke out before him.

“You are not hallucinating.”

He looked up to see the form of what his mind interpreted as a man of roughly his height and age wearing a similar suit to himself, albeit white instead of his black. Despite his brain trying to convince him of that, nothing about the form could justify such a conclusion. The pure white of its form somehow stood stark and separate from the white void surrounding them despite there being no clear reason why. It lacked any defining features that could lead him to believe the creature was human beyond a vaguely humanoid shape.

“Sorry, what -er, who are you?”

He did not want to insult the thing by assuming it was something less than a person; it could speak after all. To find yourself in unfamiliar surroundings, it was only logical to be friendly. Game Theory proved that symmetric reciprocity lead to the best outcomes when the motives of another was unknown. While he could think of a number of holes in the idea of “treating others as one wants to be treated”, he could get behind the concept of “treating others as they treat you”.

The Other contorted their face into a large grin.

“Your struggle to be polite is unnecessary. I have been called many vulgar things: the Unmoved Mover, the Universe, the All, God, Truth, and more. Call me what you like.”

It was clear that whatever it was, they were clearly more familiar and comfortable in this impossible space than he was. That it could defy his logical understanding of reality did lay credence to their claims of Godhood, but there was obviously no God. This “Being X” could have played some part in his kidnapping and that it had not already returned himself back to Tokyo was clear it was not necessarily on his side, even if it had not done anything to him directly.

It tilted its head.

“Being X?”

He leveled a heavy glare at Being X.

‘I had not said a word and yet it seemed to follow my line of thinking. Could it read my mind?’

Being X nodded.

“Yes.”

‘So it can. In that case, such an invasion of privacy is yet another mark against it. I have been nothing but courteous to this Being X, and yet it continues to be antagonistic. How am I expected to remain tactful if nothing is private? Is this some sort of joke at my expense?’

Being X smirked.

“It is true that you have been done a disservice, if not for the reasons you think.”

He furrowed his brow, not excepting this arrogant being to admit to something wrong.

“A disservice?”

Being X’s grin turned into a more neutral smile.

“You are no longer in the Cycle of Reincarnation.”

He could only shake his head in disbelief at the concept.

“Cycle of Reincarnation? Am I supposed to honestly believe that there really is a soul? Something that leaves no trace of its existence? If I’ve had previous lives, where are the memories? Regardless, let’s assume you’re right. Such a process which handles untold thousands of deaths every day would be largely automated and foolproof after being in operation for any length of time, so can you cut it out with this nonsense?”

Being X had the audacity to shrug.

“The nature of your death was unexpected, but your understanding is not required. Believe what you like. This conversation is more formality than necessity. Your soul is no longer in the Cycle and that can only mean one thing: you must go through there.”

It pointed behind him, and so he dutifully turned to see what it was gesturing towards. Behind him was a door with a symbol vaguely resembling the Jewish Sephirot – a symbol he only knew because of a certain popular Japanese video game franchise. He found himself subconsciously attempting to memorize the symbols and diagrams on the face of the door, but it was no use. It appeared to be written in some type of Latin-based language he could not understand.

After a few moments, the door opened slightly, revealing an inky blackness that stood in sheer contrast to the otherwise white surroundings.

He could not help step back in caution. He turned to Being X to ask about it.

“And just what exactly is that?”

“That is the Gate. A place of knowledge for those willing to pay the price. Regrettably, you have no toll left to give, but your circumstances grant you a one-way, amnesic, trip. While such a thing does not violate the letter of the rules, it goes against the spirit, but exceptions can be made.”

It sounded like it was mocking him.

“I have no idea what you are talking about. Knowledge? Toll? If you are trying to bind me to some type of contract, I would hope you would explain such conditions clearly.”

Being X frowned.

“There is little time or need to explain. Your situation will correct itself one way or another. Stay here if you wish. Soon, you will cease to exist, soul and all; sublimated into this space. For an Atheist like yourself it is a fitting end, is it not? Alternatively, you may step through that Gate.”

He brought a hand to his chin, considering the choice. It hardly seemed like one: die or live, but was there more to this than met the eye? This Being X – despite it appearing to be so capable and powerful at first – now seemed rather limited in what it could do. Rather than a God, it was more like a convenience store worker apologizing for a company mistake with a coupon. He wanted to take such a deal just to get this craziness over with, but...

“What do you get out of this? Why do anything for me at all? I am not exactly in the position to write you a good review.”

It stayed silent for a moment, continuing to frown.

“It seems that perhaps some part of me is sorry for you. One last answer then. I observe the experiment of human existence. While one soul in billions being misplaced might seem insignificant, any deviation to a closed experiment has radical changes. Whether indirectly or not, an unintended mistake has been made and an action must be taken to redress it.”

It disappeared before he had time to respond, its white body fading into the background.

It seemed that whatever its motivations, it clearly had enough of the conversation. Despite its arrogant attitude, it at least was a somewhat rational being. While he had numerous questions, he was not willing to stay in this void any longer to ask them. The featureless background grated on his psyche. He only hoped that if this was a dream, he would soon be waking up.

He took a step towards the Gate, but hesitated. Something about the inky blackness within seemed even more wrong than the surroundings. He could not help but feel he was making a mistake, but regardless of how truthful Being X was, what else was there to do? Should he travel the empty irrational void? Should he try to find some way to attack Being X with his fists? Those might seem like choices to a more emotional or reckless man.

For him, he was a rational human being. There was an open door before him, and so he would walk through it.

---

July 15 ^th , 189 9 – State Orphanage #3, Rivera, Amestris – Salaryman POV

There was light. There was warmth and cold. Soon, other sensations began to give rise inside him.

His eyes struggled to focus. His mind was numb and his senses were dulled to the world around him.

“Tanya, please stop your struggling, I have others to feed besides you.”

Someone called out in a language she did not quite understand, a mixture of English and German... maybe Dutch? Wait, she? No, he was a man. What was happening? He tried to move his body but struggled inside the confines of some fabric harness around him. It felt like a straitjacket and a sudden fear swept his entire body.

‘Have I gone insane? There is a gap in my memory. Have I been drugged? What was the last thing... that void! The Gate... that... thing?’

In an instant, his mind focused. He could now more clearly see the world around him and found a giant woman feeding some vaguely orange goop to him via spoon. As it forcibly entered his mouth, he got the vague taste or carrot and some other vegetables. It was the most disgusting slop to ever touch his tongue and he turned away.

The woman sighed.

“Please Tanya, you need to eat.”

‘This... this isn’t right. I am not Tanya. I am not a baby girl. I was a successful Salaryman! I had prospects, a path to the top! How could someone like me be eating vegetable gruel?!’

As the food was forced into his mouth, he could only uselessly cry out into the world.

“Dab ba beh bek!” [Damn you Being X!]

His caretaker smiled.

“Aw, isn’t that cute!”

Chapter Text

May 13^th , 1908 – Tanya POV

To say she had been disappointed in starting a new life would be an understatement.

She was no longer be on the Earth she knew, she was no longer the same gender, and she no longer spoke the same language as her fellow citizens. Decades of inter-personal connections, knowledge of world history, and occupational hard work all wiped away in an instant. She was human however, and so she adapted. Signaling her new role as “female child” was easy – she always found looking inward far easier than conversing with others – and the new perspective provided by form did improve her understanding of humanity quite a lot. She spent her first formative years piecing together the Amestrian language from the few Germanic and Dutch loanwords she knew from Japanese and her passable conversational skill in English. It was not like there was much else to do at the time.

‘What am I thinking? My life is perfect! Praise Being X!’

While she was sarcastic about any pseudo-religious praise for the supposed deity, Tanya Degurechaff – as she was now known – was nonetheless honest in her assessment. She had feared she was decades away from the stable job and upward prospects of the former career that was abruptly cut short. At her current 9 years of age, she could have been placed in an unimpressive elementary school and far away from a real career. However, she discovered a way out of her dilemma through the scientific magic of this world: Alchemy.

She was just as much a mediocre talent with Alchemy as she had been with Human Resources in her former life, but she had certain advantages. Her passable knowledge of modern science, her memory, and her maturity made her far more capable than her drooling, mouth-breathing peers. The orphanage gave her all the time in the world and she found herself strangely fascinated with the subject. As soon as she started drawing Transmutation Circles and making simple objects, she was hooked.

‘Such a logical and powerful tool. In the next 50 years, it would be no surprise if this world could be more advanced than the one I left. Just like Economics was in the modern world, there seems to be no limit to what can be done with Alchemy in this one!’

She spent most of this stage of her life ignoring her idiotic peers and instead pored over libraries, absorbing all she could. She feared that her young age would be a detriment, but thankfully Amestris was a highly rational and meritocratic nation. There were no age limits to joining the workforce or in taking the free certification exams which proved a candidate’s skill in various Alchemic disciplines.

It took a few years numerous rejected applications, but in 1907, she finally moved out of the orphanage, becoming one of several Alchemist Assistants to Giolio Comanche: the Silver Alchemist. The position gave her the rare opportunity to rapidly progress in the “Alchemist” career path.

There were three occupational “paths”: Trained Alchemists, Skilled Alchemists and State Alchemists.

Tanya was currently a Trained Alchemist. These were people who passed one of the free Alchemy Certification exams allowing them to use specialized, pre-made transmutation circles made by Skilled or State Alchemists. These jobs made up about 1% of the workforce and were often traditional “factory” work: Coal Liquefaction, Nitrogen Fixation, Ore Purification and more. Without them, the remaining ten-thousand higher-qualified alchemists would struggle to sustain an economy needed for fifty-million Amestrians.

It was a stable career, but there was no upward prospects. Many 60-year-olds were doing the same job they started, with the same pay. Tanya shuddered at the possibility.

Instead, by becoming an assistant, she gained access to more advanced alchemy knowledge and connections. Once she learned enough, she would quit her assistant role and take the exams needed to become a Skilled Alchemist. Similar to a scientist or an engineer, a Skilled Alchemist developed new techniques in private companies and often held big contracts with the government and industry. This gave her endless options for upward growth. The perfect career for someone looking to not make waves but instead live a comfortable and fulfilling life like herself.

With that being said, what she absolutely wanted to avoid was becoming a State Alchemist. While the career was highly lucrative – with virtually limitless funding and access to all alchemy research made in Amestris – it was also extremely dangerous. Being an irreplaceable asset of the State, they were prime targets for assassination. Occupational mortality was an unprecedented 20%! That was bad enough in peacetime, but with Fürer-President King Bradley’s Executive Order #3099, Alchemists were now on the front-lines of a civil war! Not even her employer was spared, having lost a leg and only just returning to work after a few months of recuperation.

Thankfully, it was a voluntary career, and so she could simply choose not to become one.

---

May 13^th, 1908 – Western Sector Lab #31, Rivera, Amestris – Tanya POV

The Western Sector Lab #31 – aka the “Silver Lab” – was situated underground, built using an abandoned mine that once belonged to the Silver Alchemist’s family. While it no longer produced much ore, the soil and mineral structure of the mine still gave some insight into how and where silver could be found. Likewise, the old mine shafts could be used to test new ore-extracting technologies.

It was in one of these many labyrinthine tunnels that Tanya Degurechaff made her way to the office of her employer Giolio Comanche, the Silver Alchemist. He had requested a meeting to discuss her work, a regular occurrence and something no other assistant did. In other jobs, that level of micromanagement upon the performance of a single employee would be a clear indicator that they would soon be fired.

Tanya knew that her circumstances were different.

The State Alchemist treated her more like a granddaughter than an employee, much to her chagrin. While she appreciated treating a new hire with kids gloves, it had been over a year and she had long since proved her merit. Even now, he routinely put her on straightforward tasks or trivial errands. Because of this, she was forced to spend her ample time doing research so as to make the best of her opportunity in the top-of-the-line laboratory which caused her boss to routinely inspect her work.

She opened the large silver door to Giolio’s office and walked into the cluttered room. The papers strewn throughout the room were a fire hazard and would make finding anything impossible. She was told that such squalor was typical of Alchemists.

‘He’s probably just taking advantage of the “mad scientist” aesthetic to be lazy, but there must be some method to the madness. His research has made him enough money to own several silver mines. It’s almost tempting to consider being a State Alchemist just on the prospect of retiring early with such a healthy portfolio.’

Looking up, Giolio Comanche gave her a grandfatherly smile beneath his monocled face. While the man appeared fat and had a peg-leg, but the way he ‘floated’ around the room with effortless ease betraying a hidden life of rigorous exercise. He did not wear a military uniform, but rather a complex tailcoat of rich fabrics that showcased his wealth. Getting up from his desk, he gestured to the seat across from his desk.

“Tanya, my dear, it is good to see you! Please come in, take a seat! Do you want any refreshments?”

Knowing that he would refuse to give her coffee, she declined and sat down on the antique chair. The man insisted on his personal furniture having the handcrafted grandeur of a decadent noble. While wasteful to her sensibilities, she could not deny that the upholstery was far better than what she was used to.

He sat back down and flipped though a stack of papers.

“I must say, I am surprised by the depth of your analysis in this report, Tanya. While I am disappointed that you took advantage of my absence in Ishval to give yourself a project without my permission, I cannot deny the results. If what you are saying is to be believed, this “Operation Orb” you designed is miraculous. Why would you attempt to make such a thing?”

Tanya smiled, sitting up at the praise and secretly gave a sigh of relief. Considering she “stretched” the rules to do the project, she thought it best to remain humble.

“As you know, my skills in alchemy are not very good. I have an adequate knowledge of theory, but struggle to put it into practice. This Orb is a means of trying to remedy that. By ‘bootstrapping’ a transmutation response using electronics and a bit of clockwork, even someone with poor control of the Source like myself can still finely manipulate the hundreds of curved silver pieces in the mechanism. By “inputting” a series of simplified mental images into the Orb when performing a transmutation, the silver pieces will align into a facsimile of a fully-qualified circle such as those used by Trained Alchemists. By being made of a noble metal like silver, the pieces can ignore much of the “noise” generated by the imperfections of the user’s ‘Mental Will’ and these approximate circles. With enough development, this could be used to revolutionize the role of Trained and Skilled Alchemists! By broadening the scope of what they are capable of, they allow State Alchemists to focus on only the most difficult tasks.”

The Silver Alchemist nodded along, no doubt understanding the process far better than she did herself. She appreciated that he did not belittle her explanations despite having decades more experience. While she felt that these “explanation-seminars” she was forced to have with him were unnecessary, she understood the concept that one did not fully understand a topic until one could teach it.

He raised the eyebrow of his monocle-less eye.

“Did you not think that just making silver transmutation circles would be easier than this clockwork?”

She nodded, continuing to play along with his “ignorance”. The State Alchemist would regularly “play dumb” – even if he never said so directly – which allowed her to step through her methodology.

“That is similar, but not quite the same. I created silver circles at first, but I found that the difficulty was in the setup and not the result. As you know, when performing transmutation, you need to rigorously train your mind to think through several abstract and sometimes contradictory mental models, often called a ‘Mental Will’. The power of the alchemist’s knowledge as well as this ‘Will’ are then pushed into the transmutation circle in accordance to the desired effect. A transmutation circle made out of a noble metal like gold or silver can help in ensuring the desired result contains fewer imperfections, but for someone with more limited practical experience such as myself, the struggle is having the transmutation occur at all, rather than the accuracy of the result. That is where intermediate-circles come into play. By making the transmutation circle more complex with the addition of multiple, simpler circles, the Mental Will requirements are far lower.”

He frowned.

“You are talking about the sort of pre-made circles created for Trained Alchemists to use, but if a general-purpose methodology like you suggest were possible, there would be little need for State Alchemists. Knowing the shape and order of those ‘intermediate circles’ as you call them is more complex than simply repeating a transmutation until you succeed. It takes months for a skilled State Alchemist to create a single pre-made array used by Trained Alchemists under the most ideal conditions. I should know, my ‘Polybasite Silver Purification’ circle was what got me my State Certification.”

Tanya stood up with a smile and rushed over to a nearby wall holding a chalkboard. She took chalk in hand and began to scribble equations on the wall.

“That’s what I thought at first, but it actually is solvable with math and automation in many circumstances! See, by working through the three-dimensional differential equation of the approximate volume of the result, you can come conclusions on the proper size-derived Hermes-Intermediate. The mechanics in the Orb act work to construct this circle by willing the summation of the resulting solution’s Taylor Series Expansion into the Orb using Alchemy, the Orb handles the rest. Next, the composition-derived Agathodaemon-Intermediate can be concluded by breaking down the ratios and atomic values of the elements into a series of linear equations and performing Rank Factorization of the resulting ratio-by-value matrix. From there, this intermediate circle can be selected by merely working through the ‘Mental Will’ of the derived pseudo-inverse. Next the-”

The Silver Alchemist cut her off, looking frustrated. No doubt he was annoyed by her droning on about facts he already knew.

“That is enough Tanya. There is no need to go through all the math. I am sure it works just like you say... _probably. Now, do you think you could make a Grant Presentation for this in front of the Central Board?”

She could not believe her ears! While she had made the Operation Orb as a project in helping her alchemy, she did not think it was good enough to bring forward to a Grant Proposal in front of the State Board in Central. If approved, her project would be officially recognized, a monetary sum given to continue her work, and her name would be published in the monthly State-sponsored alchemy publication.

‘This is it, this is the chance I’ve been waiting for! If I can just prove my case in front of an Alchemist Board, dozens of private companies would be fighting to hire me. The Operation Orb is practically an entire factory in a small, spherical package. Even if production causes a spike in silver prices or if development costs mount with more sophisticated designs, almost any price would be worth it make them. Maybe the modern computerized world I left could be achieved in my lifetime! I had always hoped my clumsy prototype would warrant consideration, but I never dreamed it would so soon! Praise this meritocratic nation! Hail Amestris!’

She immediately nodded her head, fearing on missing out on the opportunity if she delayed.

“Of course! When should I get ready?”

He tossed her paperwork at her, barely giving time for her to catch it. He smiled knowingly, no doubt sensing her excitement.

“You’ll be leaving as soon as possible. The train departs for Central in two hours.”

---

May 14^th, 1908 – Central Command Headquarters, Central City – Tanya POV

The last 24 hours were a whirlwind of activity as Tanya boarded the 9-hour train ride, reviewed her research, and stayed overnight at a nearby hotel. However, to Tanya this was no problem; she relished any distraction from her chaotic emotions. It was as if fate – if such a thing existed – was calling her! She would soon have her place in this new world as she always wanted.

Her optimistic outlook was soon tempered by reality.

She realized upon investigating the schedule that the presentation would be held at Central Command Headquarters. She worried that the conclusion of the Board would be that she join a military research team as a condition for the Grant. It was true that her Orb could have some limited military use and in a militarized nation like Amestris, developing bleeding-edge technology meant giving the military the first look.

‘No, I can’t let fear control my actions. The worst case would be performing weapon prototype demonstrations which might be less conducive to my long-term health but it would come with significant connections with the government. I always knew that it would be a tough road for my career, but this is a significant first step! I just have to think of the best case. I will be careful to focus on the obvious civilian potential of Operation Orb technology and hope peace wins the day.’

She had awoken as early as possible to leave plenty of time to get ready, but had soon found that it was still not enough. While she intuitively knew that her diminutive stature, nine-year-old features, and heavy baggage could be a cause for delays, she had hoped that the tailored suit she purchased with her meager savings would convince everyone of her maturity.

She was wrong.

In just a few blocks, she had been stopped by no less than: three concerned mothers, a fruit-stall owner, and a patrol of military police asking for her guardian. If not for her paperwork and a hasty getaway back into the crowded main streets, she would have been late already.

Making her way through the last of these busy avenues full of people and cars reminiscent of pre-war Shōwa, she approached the guard checkpoint outside the massive fortress-like structure of Central Command. At the gate, two military police officers were filtering access. Stepping into the queue, she slowly inched her way toward them.

The two men looked down at her with incredulous expressions once she introduced herself.

“Uh, miss, you lost? Hey Mark, can you get missing-persons on the line-”

Tanya, now used to the treatment and hoping to avoid an utter waste of time, quickly brought out her paperwork.

“No need to worry gentleman. Despite my looks, I am an Assistant of a State Alchemist. I am to provide a demonstration to a Board of Alchemists today.”

The two reviewed her documents with skepticism.

“This looks right – it is definitely an authentic State seal – but I can’t just let you in. This whole situation is just too strange.”

‘Damn it! Just when things were finally going my way! I could try performing alchemy, but that might make the situation worse. If I wait for them to get a superior or State Alchemist to come down here, then I’ll be late! I can’t let my dreams of a comfortable life end on such a pathetic note! If only-’

Her thoughts were interrupted by a man yelling loudly in the distance.

^◊♦_◊ “What seems to be the problem here?!” _♦◊^♦

As the man came closer it was clear he was an officer in the military. He was also the largest person Tanya has ever seen in either lifetime. Easily over seven feet tall and with a build to match. With his clean-shaven face and head, it was difficult to tell his age, but she felt he was younger than she used to be, no older than thirty. The two guards turn and quickly saluted the man.

“Major Armstrong, sir! I’m surprised to see you back in Central; what with the war on. Uh, well this girl is trying to gain entrance into Central Command, but, well... you know...”

The Major nodded his head in understanding.

^◊♦_◊ “Indeed! Oh, what a curious predicament! That you have not already called on other authorities must mean there is something to the story, is it not?” _♦◊^♦

Tanya tried to reign in some semblance of reason back into the conversation by giving the Major her documentation.

“Everything I need is right here. I am going to be late to a presentation in Central Command. Could you help me get in? I don’t mind being escorted if necessary, but I’m in a hurry. As an assistant to the Silver Alchemist, once we meet him inside this can all be resolved.”

As if to contradict her rational approach, the bald strongman took her files and began to flex in a number of outrageous poses. With each position, his muscles threatened to break the uniform he wore. Military uniforms were supposed to be made of thick and sturdy fabric, yet it stretched like elastic on the giant frame of the man.

^♦◊_♦ “Hmm! These papers appear genuine and these Muscles of Truth™ passed down the Armstrong Line for Generations™ can find no deceit in this young lady’s words! I will take things from here, men! Now young lady, please follow me!” _◊♦^◊

He grabbed her large suitcase effortlessly in one arm and made his way passed the guards and up the bridge to Command HQ. The guards tried to stop the muscle-bound Major, but rather than slow him down, he pushed a muscular bicep into their faces, making vague references to the “feeling of truth” in them. In the face of such foolishness, the guards made the wise decision to simply look the other way and let them leave.

When they reach the end of the bridge, the Major stopped at the edge of the main courtyard overlooked by the large command structure. She tried to walk past but found herself held fixed in place by the far stronger man.

^◊♦_◊ “Now, before we continue on, I would be remiss not to glean further insight into your bizarre circumstances! Could I ask for your name, and why a young lady like yourself is doing being an assistant to a State Alchemist?” _♦◊^♦

She sighed in annoyance at the man’s antics but – for whatever reason – the man was predisposed to helping her out. Not willing to look a gift horse in the mouth, she demonstrated some of her alchemy ability. Taking out a piece of chalk, she roughly etched out a transmutation circle on a loose piece of brickwork on the ground. Even without using her Orb, she could transmute a simple carving of the State Symbol into the brick. It was an easy pattern to practice with and served as a great demonstration tool for precisely these circumstances. She did not need to worry that the result could be considered “defacing public property”; the State Symbol was almost sacred in the eyes of the public.

“My name is Tanya Degurechaff and, as you can see, I am more than capable of my position. I only wish to contribute to society to the best of my ability.”

The man, rather than being understanding, seemed moved to tears.

^♦◊_♦ “Oh! What disturbing words to be uttered by one so young! You should be enjoying childhood, not doing work. What do your parents think of this?” _◊♦^◊

Annoyed by the patronizing attitude of the muscle-head, she bit back a scathing retort. While she was in this form, she found herself quick to uncharacteristic emotional outbursts. She was rational though, and so she calmed herself and instead gave him a neutral glare.

“The nuns at the orphanage were not pleased, that much is true. If it was up to them, I would be in a mediocre school and destined for a mediocre career. Thankfully they have little say in the matter. I’ve been hired by the State and so I’m legally an adult. I’ve had enough of a childhood for two lifetimes and wish to leave my mark on the world. Don’t you have something you consider worth working towards?”

For the first time since she met the man, he did not have a cheery and optimistic attitude. He hung his head low.

“I did… once. I suppose that I don’t have the right to determine what is best for others when I’m not sure of what’s best for myself.”

Shaking his head, he stood up tall once again. He looked down at her with a smile and pulled out the silver pocket-watch of a State Alchemist.

^◊♦_◊ “But that is enough moping! I wish you the best in your ambitions and ask only that I sit in on your demonstration. As a State Alchemist myself, there should be no trouble.” _♦◊^♦

Tanya groaned. She had no choice but to agree, if only to avoid burning a bridge with an elite of society. However, she was getting the feeling that her carefully crafted presentation on her Orb Technology was slowly falling apart before it even began.

‘I only hope that he can reign in his exuberance… It is becoming more and more clear that my impression of State Alchemists was right. Any profession that would accept someone like Major Armstrong is something I want to stay far away from.’

With Major Armstrong’s issues surrounding her age resolved, the two made their way into one of the many wings of the building. Using a nearby map, she soon found herself in front of Auditorium #2 where a nervous-looking Giolio Comanche was waiting for her.

The Silver Alchemist looked between her and her would-be escort with thinly-veiled concern.

“Tanya! What has taken you so long? I hope that this oaf did not hold you up?”

Not wishing to damage a potential professional relationship with either Alchemist, she shook her head and attempted to mediate.

“No. Rather it appears that my child-like appearance has been the problem. Major Armstrong has been very helpful in comparison. It is likely I will need an escort to avoid unnecessary delays in the future.”

Major Armstrong frowned, looking down at his fellow State Alchemist.

“This is surprising Major Comanche. I had not expected for you to be so forgetful to not even hire a guardian for young Tanya here. That you even chose to hire someone as young as her is strange enough. Are you certain this has all been above-board?”

The Silver Alchemist gave him a frustrated glare and muttered something under his breath, but before he could respond, a voice sounded out from down the hall.

“Now, now, there is nothing to worry about Strong Arm, I can personally vouch for Silver’s actions so far.”

The two State Alchemists turned and quickly brought there hands up in salute. Tanya saluted as well, unsure what the social contract was in this exceptional situation, for none other than Fürer-President King Bradley himself walked towards them. With the distribution of portraits to every corner of Amestris and his unique eye-patch, it was a face Tanya could not be mistaken about.

The Fürer gave them all a kind smile and waved a hand in a dismissive manner. The three of them slowly lowered their salutes. He turned to her boss who in turned seemed rightfully nervous at having the full attention of the leader of their nation.

“Alright, no need to stand on ceremony with me. I’m not here on any official business. I just found myself curious about this little get-together. My secretary noted something out-of-the-ordinary about a new request coming through the Central Bureau and I just couldn’t help but stop by. This has already proven to be a wonderful distraction. What has really caught my eye is the capability of our young alchemist here. It would be careless of me to let such a hopeful talent slip through the cracks. I hope no one minds my sitting in?”

Tanya could not believe her ears. The ruler of the nation himself had come to see her demonstration. She did not hesitate to fall back on her knowledge. She would accommodate the CEO that just performed a surprise inspection.

“Of course not! I would be honored if Your Excellency were to sit in on my presentation! I am sure you will not be disappointed!”

He laughed, turning to go into the Auditorium.

“My, so eager to please. I look forward to hearing what you have to say.”

---

May 14^th, 1908 – Auditorium #2, Central Command Headquarters, Central City – Tanya POV

It did not take long for the audience to take their seats in the small auditorium. The room was organized like a university lecture hall, with rows of raised seating on one wall facing another wall with chalkboards and a podium. Unlike most lecture halls, however, a large booth sat in the middle of the room where important people could sit. As expected, the Fürer, a half-dozen State Alchemists, Major Comanche and Major Armstrong all sat inside it. In the corners of the room, the Fürer’s bodyguard stood watch. Tanya bit back any nervousness about being looked down upon by the best Amestris had to offer and fell back on a long history of giving oral presentations.

‘Okay, think. The Fürer being here changes my audience completely. What do I need to fix in my presentation? While I shouldn’t ignore the others, he is my primary focus now. He’s a politician and soldier and so will not appreciate the finer aspects of alchemy. I need to wow him.’

With her approach set, she reluctantly left her carefully-made cue-cards on the podium and moved to an open space where she left her luggage. Taking a moment to open it, she set out the various alchemical ingredients. She stood up and presented her Operation Orb to the audience. The silver object was something like an armillary sphere made entirely of tiny clockwork-like gears and springs.

“Good Afternoon. Today, I am presenting to you my research regarding a radical new method of Transmutation. This approach takes the form of this, what I call an ‘Operation Orb’. With less training than standard alchemy, this Orb augments a user’s alchemic ability to allow them to perform a wide variety of tasks. I will showcase some of these by performing a number of Transmutations without the use of complicated arrays and outside of my typical skill level as a Trained Alchemist.”

Tanya bent down and sketched a perfect circle with chalk around a clay jug of water and plank of wood. Focusing on the mathematical formulas she desired, she inputted them into the Orb. The silver pieces spun wildly in the confines of its clockwork form and glowed brightly with energy. Audible clicks snapped several transmutation circles in-place an geometric designs began to form. Soon the circle followed suit, illuminating with light. The water, jug, and wood disappeared in a flash of lightning, replaced with a ream of parchment paper. If not for the rough texture, it would be impossible to tell it had not been pre-cut and assembled by a mechanical process.

Next, she replaced the paper with a block of tin and a block of iron. Activating the Orb, the objects changed and merged together forming a crude sculpture of the Fürer made of sections of tin and iron haphazardly strewn throughout.

Finally, she erased the chalk circle and instead focused a series of complex inputs into the Orb. After a few moments, a tiny flame burst forth from it, hovering in the air for several seconds before extinguishing.

“As you can see, with only a simple circular array, the Orb can do an assortment of tasks. While it is still not perfect, it is as good if not superior to what can be performed by a specially-made array used by a Trained Alchemist. Unlike those arrays however, this is far more flexible. The first example not only transmuted the paper, but also cut and assembled it in a single operation. This is something currently only possible when performed by a State Alchemist. While such a thing is obviously trivial for a machine to do, it highlights the potential of the technology.”

She handed out the paper to the audience before gesturing to the small statuette.

“Likewise, the sculpture showcases the potential of these automated circles. By keeping the form constant, but oscillating between composition, it is possible to meld multiple distinct elements seamlessly into one Transmutation. Using a normal circle, the transmutation would have alloyed the metals together, but as you can see, the metals have been kept isolated. While this transmutation is currently not of much use, it is also impossible to achieve with standard alchemy alone. It is my hope that such potential might drive new avenues of alchemic development.

“Lastly, I created a fire without any source of fuel using the orb alone. The water and carbon-dioxide in the air was transmuted into methane and oxygen and ignited. Using a normal circle to do this would be impossible for anyone but a State Alchemist. The rapid changes in the composition of the air would otherwise throw off any pre-made circle. However since the circles in the Orb are dynamic, it can change with time and adjust. If sufficient air and moisture is provided, it should even sustain itself indefinitely! While the need for a trained operator and the small volume does limit the thermal energy created, it is essentially completely “free”. It is enticing to consider if such a process could be expanded to an industrial scale.”

The demonstration appeared to produce the result Tanya hoped for and the various State Alchemists began to discuss the results.

Her hopes were dashed, however, upon seeing the Fürer frown and comment on her results.

“These demonstrations are all very interesting. There appears to be some potential, but it is not quite what I had expected when coming here. I am sure that these are very complicated feats of alchemy, but as a non-alchemist, I’m not sure how it compares to the miraculous feats I see performed every day on the battlefield.”

Tanya’s heart sank at the implication. Her dreams of being published and becoming a Skilled Alchemist were being crushed before her eyes.

‘Damn it! Of course! Things like rapid-fabrication and “free energy” would be industry-shattering feats in my former life, but it must seem like just another Tuesday for Alchemy. While I had hoped he could appreciate the potential, as a politician without a clear cost-benefit argument to justify the cost of a project to his taxpayers, there’s nothing to be done. All my effort so far has just shown that the Orb is just a neat little gimmick. Think! What could I do that would showcase just how radical this orb can be?’

She straightened her back.

“Fürer-President, sir. I think there is one thing that might show just how capable this orb can be, but I’ll need a small favor.”

The State Alchemists in the audience seemed affronted that she would dare to ask their leader for anything, but she had no choice. If she was to salvage the work and reputation she spent over a year developing, she needed to be bold.

The Fürer stroked his chin and smiled.

“Well, who would I be to refuse such an honest request. What is it?”

She pointed to a guard standing near the door to her right.

“Could I have one of your guards volunteer for something?”

The guard seemed to straighten-up at the sudden attention and spoke up.

“I am not sure that’s a good idea. We are here as the Fürer’s security and-”

The Fürer raised his hand and caused the man to immediately quiet down.

“I appreciate your concern for my safety, but I am surrounded by several State Alchemists. If Tanya or anyone could so much as lay a finger on me right now, the State would have far greater things to worry about. Now please, I would like to see what the young Alchemist has to show us.”

The soldier reluctantly agreed with his leader and handed his rifle to another guard. He walked over to Tanya who quickly scribbled down a list of instructions on a piece of paper and handed it to the man.

“Alright, I will need to you follow these steps to the letter. Just to be clear, you’ve never used Alchemy before, correct?”

The soldier rolled his eyes at her as he took the note. No doubt, he was not used to being given instructions by someone her age.

“I’m confident in my ability to follow orders, but yeah, I don’t have any idea how any of this science-y stuff works.”

Tanya nodded and moved to the other end of the room and watched the soldier like a hawk.

Reading over the instructions, he did everything as written; mainly it required him to imagine various things: numbers, patterns and the like. He took the Operation Orb from Tanya and held it out. For almost a minute, it seemed to do nothing. With little warning, bolts of electricity erupted from the ground indicating a Transmutation reaction was occurring. In front of the soldier, a fist-sized ball of stone was ripped from the floor. It hovered momentarily before dropping to the ground with a small thud.

Startled, the soldier dropped the Orb where it rolled into the empty pocket of ground created from the newly formed stone.

“What- what the heck happened?!”

Everyone began shouting over each other demanding similar explanations, but the Fürer quickly quieted them down. He gave Tanya a stern and formidable look.

“Now young Alchemist, I am only going to ask this once. Am I seeing this correctly? You did not secretly do the Transmutation yourself, did you? There would be severe consequences if you were lying.”

Tanya took a step back in fear and was quick to shake her head in denial and defend herself.

“No, no, of course not! Doing something so obvious in front of a room full of State Alchemists would be unthinkable. It is exactly like you saw.”

The Fürer kept his stern look for a few more moments before breaking out into a grin. He stepped down from the elevated booth and walked over to her. He slapped her back, almost causing her to fall over before laughing to himself.

“Haha! Alright then. I think I have all the definitive proof I need. Congratulations Tanya, I hereby grant you the title of State Alchemist.”

It was as if time stopped for Tanya.

““What?!””

Chapter Text

For Giolio Comanche, the Silver Alchemist, life had taken a turn for the worse. On a glance, one might think it was losing a leg in Ishval that had made him so irritable, but he took such a thing as proof of his service to Amestris. It was only right that he did his duty.

‘No, it all started when I hired that damn waif, Tanya Degurechaff! Oh, her application sounded so good on paper: a strong Western name with a list academic achievements to match. I had even confirmed her credentials were genuine. Yes, I will admit I was a fool for not giving her an interview before hiring her as an assistant, but who the hell would think an eight-year-old child could pass four different alchemy certifications?! I’ve been a laughingstock ever since!’

Since then, he had vowed to fire her no matter what. Lamentably, such a thing is not as easy as it seemed. Centuries ago, it had apparently been commonplace for State Alchemists to coast on a mediocre career by taking credit for the work of talented apprentices and firing them when questions arose. As such, many laws were put in place to limit their removal.

At first he tried the most obvious method: removing any and all responsibility so she would quit on her own. All assistants craved their position as a means of working with a talented supervisor. That he was not teaching or giving her his time should have been enough, but the fool just took on projects on her own.

‘More embarrassing than hiring a child is the thought that she didn’t even need me! Why couldn’t she just leave?!’

Next, he tried coxing her into a false sense of security. He regularly had meetings with her, acted friendly, and discussed every aspect of her work in the most minute detail. If he could just find one piece of evidence that she was slacking off or did not actually know an particular alchemic fundamental she was supposed to, he would be quick to capitalize on it. He needed only to get her to write a report that was lacking enough that anyone who read it would be convinced of her incompetence.

This did not work.

‘How is she so good at Alchemic Theory?! What the hell even is an Agathodaemon-Intermediate? Just by the name I can tell that it hasn’t been in use since we revived Agathodaemon’s notes on Silver alchemy from a Xerxes ruin over 200 years ago. Who the hell would even apply such archaic math to Alchemy anyway? What madwoman would memorize things to such an extent?!’

With the passive methods exhausted, he was forced to actively work against the brat. With a year already as his assistant, getting rid of her was now less “proving her incompetence” and more “removing a thorn in his side”. Her “Operation Orb” had been the final straw. How dare she create an alchemic prototype without asking! While she had not done anything illegal, there was tradition and respect to think about!

‘The plan was simple: I lie about a Research Grant Review and give her no time to prepare. It took a few favors to avoid getting the Fürer or State involved directly, so it should have been impossible for any investigation to uncover the lie. Then, I get enough State Alchemists together to do a State Alchemy Exam and watch her flounder. Her Orb was interesting, but certainly not State Alchemist material. Once I proved that her Orb was made without any of my input, I could use her arrogance as an excuse to kick her out once and for all!’

Then the Fürer showed up anyway and her prototype proved to be far more valuable than it should have. How could his simple plan have failed so thoroughly?

---

May 14^th, 1908 – Auditorium #2, Central Command Headquarters, Central City – Giolio POV

The Fürer was now congratulating the young brat with a lighthearted air that she most certainly did not deserve. Unfortunately, he could only look on and seethe. His plan was in ruins.

““What?!””

Both Tanya and Major Armstrong voiced out their confusion at the Fürer’s words. No doubt the Major had no idea about the State Alchemy Exam either. He had only talked to Degurechaff after all.

The giant State Alchemist rushed down from the booth and over to where the Fürer and Tanya were standing.

“Fürer Bradley, please reconsider. You cannot seriously be considering to make her a State Alchemist! She is too young! You would have a child step foot on the battlefield?”

The Fürer looked up at the man with a stern look on his face.

“Strong Arm, that is not your decision to make.”

He turned to look down at Tanya who still appeared to be in shock.

“I have seen her great potential and drive. Now, what do you say. Are you ready to serve the State?”

Giolio got up at once and rushed down.

‘Damn! If she says no, my career could be over! The situation is still salvageable, but she must become a State Alchemist and have my support for her project!’

There was no choice now; their fates were tied together. If she refused, people would ask why and his fabrication would come to light. The Fürer’s participation in the phony Exam – regardless of Giolio’s intention – would stain the honor of the highest office in the land. Giolio would be politically crucified to vindicate the Fürer. If she accepted but her project never received his support, it would look like he was purposefully hindering her career.

Making his way over, Giolio grabbed Tanya firmly by the shoulder.

“Of course she would accept! This is a great honor! I do not know of anyone that would refuse you my Fürer!”

Tanya stood up straight in his grasp and somehow found her voice in the midst of her confusion.

“It is indeed a… great honor… but I’m not ready! State Alchemists must pass a physical exam that I would surely fail.”

The Fürer laughed.

“That’s no problem. While all State Alchemists must make the cut for the military reserves, but there have been those younger than yourself that made that bar. I passed at the age of five myself.”

Major Armstrong took that moment to cut in.

“But sir! Can you at least exempt her from Military conscription? To have her fight the Ishvalan people who…”

Giolio glared at him in disdain. He had heard of Major Armstrong’s “medical leave” and knew it for what it is: cowardice. The man had “shell shock” and couldn’t even be counted on to kill the enemy. That a failure like him would dare confront the Fürer could not be ignored.

“Major Armstrong! The fighting in Ishval is against traitors and criminals! That you would limit her chance to gain merits in service to the State is a disgrace!”

That seemed to stoke something in Tanya and she nodded her head.

“You’re right. I will take this for the opportunity it is. I will become a State Alchemist.”

The Fürer looked at Giolio with a stern look.

“Silver, I can only hope that you will nurture her and this project to the best of your ability. I hope to see a unit of soldiers with these weapons on the battlefield as soon as possible with credit where it is due. Is that understood?”

The “or your own certification will be up for review” did not need to be stated. The Silver Alchemist did not know how, but it was clear that something had convinced Fürer Bradley that some foul play was involved. Giolio was walking on thin ice. He could only count himself lucky that Tanya’s own arrogance in thinking herself worthy of the position was working in his favor for once.

He saluted his leader.

“Of course, Fürer-President! I will craft the Operation Orb and Miss Degurechaff into perfect weapons of the State! You have my word!”

At that, Major Armstrong rushed out, tears in his eyes. Giolio huffed, visibly showing his disappointment.

‘Trash taking care of itself.’

Giolio was still a long way from sinking that far into mediocrity. He would make sure of it.

---

May 14^th, 1908 – Tanya POV

She now knew the truth: she had been set up for a State Alchemist Examination without her knowledge! However, even that is not quite what is seemed and so she read between the lines. While her employer had stayed humble and insisted that the Fürer arriving was a surprise, they had overplayed their hand.

It was clear that everything had been orchestrated by the Fürer from the start and Giolio was forced to go along with it!

She was not an ignorant fool. She had noticed the Ishval Civil War and the border conflicts with Aerugo and Creta were not going well. While the newspapers were filled with propaganda detailing an unending list of victories, the truth was evident. Even just in her small corner of Amestris, the talk in the local market was filled with sons and daughters not coming home. Her employer, the Silver Alchemist himself, was wounded just days into the signing of Executive Order #3066. The conclusion was obvious: the Fürer was scouting for every potential Human Resource he could find and would not take no for an answer!

‘And he caught me hook, line and sinker! Had I known told ahead of time that it was a State Alchemist Exam, I could have found numerous ways to fail it, but now I’m stuck.’

If she did not accept the mantle of State Alchemist now, the situation would only get worse. At best, she would be seen as a moocher; someone not willing to do her best for society. At worst, she risked being made out as an unpatriotic pacifist, not willing to fight for her nation’s sovereignty. In a country full of Jingoists like Amestris, either outcome was tantamount to career suicide. She would struggle to work waiting tables yet alone as an alchemist. The choice was clear. She would save her social capital for now and agree. So long as she did not burn bridges or damage her reputation, there would be a chance to escape back to a peaceful life.

‘Yes, being a State Alchemist was never the plan, but there is still hope! I’m not on the front lines yet. I only need to wait until the renewal examination came up next year. I could fail gracefully then – looking outwardly contrite – and return back to civilian life. If anything, a year as a State Alchemist would improve my job prospects immensely! Holding the title of “State Alchemist” for just a moment can open a lot of doors…’

She had to act fast, however. If she did not do something soon, she would be forced on the front-lines with little skill or training. Her prospects of survival looked grim unless she could delay this Operation Orb Project for a year.

---

June 6^th, 1908 – Tanya POV

The past three weeks were some of the busiest that Tanya had ever been in either lifetime. She had been fitted for a new uniform, taken a number of military and confidentiality pledges, had her photo taken for identification and records, and had to work though dozens of forms. That her silver pocket watch and certification had such a ridiculous title associated with it was just the cherry atop the utter disaster.

‘The Mythril Alchemist, what a joke. Giving me a title based on the legendary ‘white-silver metal pancea’ that could cure all poisons. Is that what the Fürer thinks of me, some convenient cure-all for his military problems?! Not on my watch!’

However much to her chagrin, the Silver Alchemist was very effective in progressing the Operation Orb Project, which was making her effort in delaying it a nightmare.

At first, she convinced her fellow State Alchemist that the complex manufacturing techniques and material costs in creating just her own Orb were too high. Her own prototype had taken a year to finely craft using spare silver from the lab. To create the dozens of prototypes required for an iterative design approach needed to get a product finished in just a few months would be prohibitive. Or so she thought.

Disastrously, her arguments were too effective. The next day a document from the Fürer’s office landed on the Silver Alchemist’s desk giving their project Carte-Blanche for any resources or low-level personnel needed. With Giolio Comanche’s silver mine and his numerous contacts, the Silver Alchemist had a perfect copy of her orb made in just a over a week. This proved that trying to stalling like that was not going to work. Much to her frustration, having a direct order from the Fürer made what would otherwise have been a logistical nightmare – even for a large company – a mere inconvenience.

Next, she had tried to prove there was a need for a significant investment into Research and Development before a practical Operation Orb could be made. After all, her Orb had been made with only her personal use in mind. The fact that she could get a soldier to make a crude ball was equal parts miraculous and completely useless. A pebble generator would hardly turn the tide of a war. “This would require an in-depth study into topics no one was familiar with” she had said. She was sure that this would delay the project; she knew from her past life that R&D of a similar nature would often take years to complete, and that was with the Internet! She hoped that the war would be over by the time a working prototype was made or that the delays would have her lose her state license before she could be deployed.

Her hope was in vain.

Giolio gave her unlimited access to every book in Amestris. Upon her investigation, she was horrified to discover an advanced branch of Alchemic Engineering that utterly threw off her attempts at stalling: Automail. Almost like magic and without advanced electronics, micro-arrays etched into small motors gave even an untrained alchemist the ability to move them. When applied to the principles of the existing clockwork design, it was suddenly trivial to implement even complex dynamic transmutation circles.

‘I could try to ignore using Automail in the design, but it is so obvious; the potential of robotics is endless! Giolio or someone else would no doubt figure it out and would then wonder why I had not come to them sooner. I want to stall the project, but not at the expense of my reputation.’

Once she had mentioned using Automail, the Silver Alchemist had pretended to look surprised, but she knew he was just being the kindly grandfather figure he usually acted. She clearly did not make any leap in logic and so, regrettably, this avenue of approach to stalling the project was over. Even without her support, the Silver Alchemist was confident that 50 of the new “Type 1” Orbs they jointly designed would be constructed in just two months time for a batch of soldiers to use.

She knew that as a State Alchemist capable of using the Orb, it was obvious that she would be sent to the Front along with them. Executive Order #3066 was clear that any State Alchemist with wartime potential could be sent, and the Fürer’s nomination of her made it clear she would be as well. She had been selected precisely for the combat potential she could provide.

She needed external support if there was any hope of this project stalling long enough for her to quit. Otherwise, she was bound to be another statistic on a list of casualties arriving daily to Central Command.

---

June 6^th, 1908, Western Train Station, West City, Amestris – Erich POV

Lieutenant Colonel Erich von Rerugen was the image of old Western aristocratic heritage. The 31-year-old’s stern, bespectacled face was a mask of intelligence and military poise. It betrayed nothing of his inner thoughts as he stood at the train station. A black-colored steam engine made its way into the terminal, billowing thick black smoke harmlessly into the tall canopy above. He held up a simple placard with the name “Tanya Degurechaff” etched on its surface.

He hoped that the person he would be meeting was not as his orders indicated.

His hopes were dashed as a young child wearing the same officer blues of Amestris as himself walked up to him. It was like something from comic strip. A 9 year old child obtained the rank of Major, a rank that took himself over eight years of dedicated service to obtain. The chain of a silver pocket watch clearly indicated the girl was his charge: the Mythril Alchemist. He briefly wondered where the military would have found a uniform so small, but concluded it was no doubt tailor-made for specifically for her. Naturally, as a member of the nation’s armed forces – a meritocratic institution – he had a duty to show objectivity and fairness in all things, but there were surely limits. The girl was struggling to carry her own suitcase; one larger than her own tiny stature.

He sighed.

‘I might personally disagree with the decision, but the Fürer himself approved it. That our nation would be so desperate as to enlist a nine-year-old girl as a State Alchemist… I have a niece her age that does nothing but play with dolls all day. Just what did her orphanage do that she saw the military as a preferable alternative? No. I cannot let bias get in the way of my duty. While she is the youngest, there have been several teenaged State Alchemists in the past. If she truly is some kind of ‘wunderkind’, then it would be in everyone’s best interest for me to support her. She should pass or fail by her own merits.’

He saluted her.

“Major Tanya Degurechaff? I am Lieutenant Colonel Erich von Rerugen. I work for the General Staff here in West City. A pleasure to meet the Mythril Alchemist in person.”

The child seemed to hesitate before standing straight and mirroring his crisp salute.

“Sir!”

‘Well, she at least acts the part.’

He gestured for her to follow him to a nearby car where he packed away her suitcase in the trunk. They both sat in the back seat while the driver drove them to Western Command Headquarters. He turned to the ‘woman’.

“Before we arrive, I will admit to being confused. You provided a report on your reasons for being here, but you were a little sparse on details. What did you hope to achieve?”

The child soldier nodded her head with a smile.

“I understand. As you are no doubt aware, the Silver Alchemist and I are in charge of the ‘Operation Orb’ project to create a unit of Infantry with our new weapon. Despite that, I have found myself at a loss on exactly how the thing will be used in combat. I am hoping that a conversation with the Generals here will provide the requirements we need to meet the standards of the military.”

‘That is surprising. I would have thought that for a person of her age and skill, she would be more arrogant. It’s clear that I cannot judge her as an ordinary child.’

Erich nodded in agreement.

“That is certainly a noble effort, but could it not have been resolved through letters? Is there any reason to visit in person?”

She sighed.

“You see, I don’t have much time. The Silver Alchemist plans on releasing the Type 1 Operation Orb soon and I fear it might do more harm than good.”

“What do you mean?”

“There is politics involved. The Silver Alchemist and I are in a disagreement on this, but the risk of other nations seeing the technology too soon will give them time to make one themselves. If I am to take this with me to the front lines, it must provide an overwhelming advantage.”

He stared at her in confusion.

‘Huh? Does she really think that we would send a child to the front lines? Executive Order #3066 requires State Alchemist to serve time when ordered, but there are many State Alchemists with little to no combat potential that will never be called up. It would be ridiculous for a child genius with no prior training to be wasted on the front lines, especially one so apt at creating weapons. There would at least be a few years of Officer training before the State would even consider it, and even then, only for propaganda purposes.’

“Major Degurechaff, you-”

Before he could get a word in edgewise, the car found itself parked outside Western Command Headquarters. With the Major rushing to get out, he decided to shelve the topic and guide her inside.

The building was at both times austere and elegant. There were little in the way of decorations, but the marble columns and fine green rugs and tapestries still gave off an air of nobility and national pride. Leading the Mythril Alchemist up the stairs and through a finely decorated oak door, they arrived at the office of the “Twin Western Generals”. The two Brigadier Generals sat next to each other in two separate desks in front of a large window, both desks nearly overflowing with documents. Despite the quantity, they were not haphazardly strewn about. While the organization was different for both, there was a clear structure to the way the reports and forms were laid out.

Brigadier General Hans von Zettour stood up and adjusted his monocle. He was a older man but could not be mistaken for “elderly”. The sharp lines of his face and finely manicured features gave him an aristocratic air. Erich knew him for his reputation of “sensible” opinions that might uncharitably be considered “dogmatic”. Erich himself would never utter such words however, as he knew that the only reason the Cretan front had not yet collapsed was due to the man’s genius in logistics.

“Lieutenant Colonel, have a seat over there. Major, welcome to Western Headquarters. It is unfortunate that we are a little understaffed and so could not provide a better reception.”

Erich could not help but shake his head, taking a seat to the left of the Generals and against the wall.

‘What he means to say is that Headquarters is all but abandoned. Any officer not on the front lines is ripping their hair out trying to solve all of our logistics problems against the new wave of Cretan offensives. That no one even sees the need to use HQ for strategy meetings shows just how hopeless things have been getting.’

The Mythril Alchemist saluted the Generals before shaking her head and removing her cap. She took the offered seat across from the Generals, looking positively tiny in the well-worn antique chair.

“It is not a problem, I am not one for formalities anyway.”

With everyone seated, Brigadier General Kurt von Rudersdorf took a long drag of a cigar but did the courtesy of trying to avoid the smoke from going in the Major’s direction. Unlike his partner, General Rudersdorf was known for his larger-than-life personality that matched his appearance. With his large mustache and larger physique, his charisma and daring were only tempered by a mind fixated on results. He regularly argued with Central on getting the resources he needed to implement any number of offensive plans, but was regularly sidelined. There always seemed some critical need on the other fronts.

The aggressive General leaned forward towards the much smaller Major.

“Mythril Alchemist, despite our ranks, it is rare for a State Alchemist like yourself to have a conversation with us. While there are many who provide considerable contributions to the State, they have their own hierarchy underneath the Fürer. Is Central planning something?”

General Zettour held up a hand.

“Now Kurt, no need to start off on the wrong foot. This gruff fellow is Kurt von Rudersdorf and I am Hans von Zettour. While we may have our different ranks and departments, we are all on the same side here.” He looked sharply at the State Alchemist. “That being said, we are very interested in the potential of the Operation Orb project. The idea that infantry might be able to perform alchemy in combat like a State Alchemist could be a decisive advantage we need.”

Major Degurechaff brightened up at the words.

“Yes, exactly that! It is precisely for that reason that I wanted to speak to you. I have noticed that Alchemists often don’t have a good grasp of the needs of the rank-and-file. My co-lead in the project has convinced the Fürer that the Type 1 Operation Orb we have developed is viable, but we have had no input from the military.”

General Rudersdorf frowned.

“Not to say anything rude about our fellow officers, but you are not mistaken. Regardless, how is a discussion with us to change that? The Fürer has final say on the results of any State Alchemist project.”

The Major was undaunted by his words.

“I had hoped that with your approval, I might be able to force the Operation Orb project on the right track. While the Fürer has final say, it is still the military that has to use it. A set of requirements from the General Staff would give me the justification to create a weapon wholly effective in its role. As I had mentioned to the Lieutenant Colonel earlier, if an inferior product is pushed out too soon, we might lose our edge as other nations learn and copy from us.”

The two generals looked to one another. Wordlessly, General Zettour sighs and gets up, making his way to the large window behind them.

“I understand where you are coming from, but we will have to decline.”

The Major is shocked and stands up from her chair.

“What do you mean?”

General Rudersdorf takes another drag from his cigar and looks down on the Major. He let out a frustrated huff.

“While there is no law against it, the General Staff in Central will not take responsibility for any delays in your project. State Alchemy has traditionally been the purview of the Office of the Fürer and the Fürer only. It is not in the best interests of the State for any institution to violate the Fürer Principle.”

The Major looked distressed.

“But-”

General Rudersdorf cut her off, handing the Mythril Alchemist a manila envelope.

“But, even if we were to bend the rules, we cannot afford to.”

The young woman takes the papers out of the envelope and begins to read it.

“This is…”

General Zettour sighs and takes a seat.

“There is no need to read the whole thing; I will give you a summary. The Cretan Border Conflict has driven casualties up 900% compared to the start of the conflict last year. Almost twenty-thousand dead or wounded every month. The seven-year-long Ishval Revolt has drained the State of every reserve we had and Creta’s army smelled blood in the water. Our forces cannot retreat or risk losing our carefully dug-in positions and without resources, there is no strategy we can use to buy more time. What few offensive weapons like tanks or reconnaissance balloons we had has been sent to other fronts. If your Operation Orb can end the situation in Ishval even just one day sooner, you would be saving hundreds of lives here.”

The Major stood stock-still, her knuckles almost going white holding the papers in front of her. Erich could not help but empathize.

‘Poor kid looks miserable, but that’s the real cost of war. I wish I could go back to the time I could see figures like that and not just see the statistics on a page. Those are thousands of real lives being lost. The Generals might be coming on a little strong, but there’s no point beating around the bush. She needs to see reality sooner or later. No inventor wants to put out an inferior product – especially if it is a weapon – but we’re desperate. I hope that she sees this and considers quitting the military for good. No one would think less of her.’

The girl mumbled softly to herself for a moment before looking up a the three of them.

“Is this really how it has to be?”

Erich sighed before standing up and patting the Major on the back.

“We will send the appropriate reports on improvements once we see this weapon in action, but we need it now. Sorry, but that’s just how things are.”

The Major walked to the Generals Desks and deposited the documents.

“Four months.”

The three of them looked at the Major with interest. She soon elaborated.

“The Operation Orb project will complete the construction of 50 Type 1 Orbs in two months. If I graduate an officer’s course by then, I will train 50 of your best Trained Alchemists into a fighting force in another two months.”

Erich von Rerugen stepped back in shock.

‘She still wants to fight on the front lines, even after hearing that? She has to know that there are still plenty of officers left to fill that role.’

He stood between the child and the two generals.

“Are you sure? If you do that then-”

Erich feels a hand touch his shoulder. He turned to see General Zettour shake his head and whispers into his ear.

“Can’t you see the conviction in those eyes?”

Looking down, Erich could see the Mythril Alchemist had a hard look in her eyes. She did not look afraid, but determined.

‘If she is undaunted by thousands of casualties… no, if numbers only reinforced her will to fight… Just what was her life like to act like this?’

He sighed.

‘What would it change if she knew her State Alchemy License was unlikely at risk if she refused deployment? After all, what is the risk of losing that compared to losing your life?’

He nods at General Zettour who in turn nods to his partner general.

General Rudensdorf butts out his cigar and steeples his hands meaningfully in the Mythril Alchemist’s direction.

“I think we can get the General Staff to agree to that. You will get the best training Amestris can provide and any soldiers we can spare. I ask only that you do whatever you can to reinforce the Western Front before heading to Ishval. If your Orbs are even half as capable as I hope, it will be worth all we can give you and more.”

Chapter Text

June 21^st, 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.

---

August 1^st, 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 20 ^th 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 w ere 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.

---

August 1^st, 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 a 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.

---

August 1^st, 1908, Hill 44, Pendleton Trenches, Amestris – Tanya POV

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…”

---

August 1^st, 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 24 ^th 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.”

1^st 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 24^th Division, Battalion 9. No, this is 1^st 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 1^st 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 24^th 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 1^st, 1908, 24^th Infantry Division - 9^th 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 21^st, 1908, Handelson Memorial Hospital, Constantine, Creta – Alphonso POV

Sergeant 1^st Class Alphonso Bieri of the Cretan 29^th Republican Rifle Division, 4^th Support Battalion, Red Company, 8^th 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?”

Chapter Text

August 8^th, 1908, Barracks #6, West City Outskirts, Amestris – Visha POV

The Western Military Academy was an enormous complex, the biggest in Amestris. Covering over 1000 acres and with a capacity for over 40,000 personnel, it was a peerless facility that produced almost half of the nation’s officers. In one small corner sat a number of student housing ‘barracks’ designed to provide free accommodations for those who volunteered for military service. In one of the female dorms, a typical daily routine presented itself for the last time.

“Visha, get up! You told me to wake you up, come on!”

2^nd Lieutenant Viktoriya Ivanovna Serebryakova groaned beneath her rough, hand-spun sheets. She had graduated from the academy a week prior and had yet to be deployed unlike many of her peers. If her friend Elya Müller had anything to say about it, the fresh-faced 17-year-old graduate had been acting a little too relaxed for a military officer.

‘Jeez, I wish Elya wouldn’t be such a mother hen. How could I not be relaxed? I’d been so worried that I would be sent to the Western Front as soon as I graduated that I’d had a week of sleepless nights worrying about it! Suddenly, there’s an order that all Trained Alchemist graduates were required to join a newly formed battalion with weeks of extra training in the rear. It was such a huge relief!’

Still, Visha knew that there was still a lot of work to be done on her first day and reluctantly opened her eyes and looked to her best friend.

“Morning Elya.”

Elya was already dressed in the uniform of a First Lieutenant and sighed. She shook her head and gave her a sly smirk.

“The shower is free. Can you hurry up so we can eat? Oh, and I got the scoop on your new battalion~ so hurry up~”

At her friend’s sing-song tone of voice, Visha shot up in bed.

“Really?!”

She never showered so quickly in her life.

---

August 8^th, 1908, Canteen #2, West City Outskirts, Amestris – Visha POV

Like most of the military buildings in the Western Front, the Canteen was well maintained but utterly barren. In a building meant to contain and serve two-hundred people, Elya and herself were the only ones there. If not for he soft sounds of the kitchen staff cleaning up in the distance, it would have been eerily silent. It made her wonder why Elya had not been transferred yet. They had graduated at the same time – although Elya always had better marks than Visha did and was already promoted – so her friend should have long moved to her new post in Central. It was just another things to add to the pile of weirdness that was ‘Elya Müller – Gossip Queen of West Academy’.

With a plate of fresh vegetables and cereal, Visha sat across from her friend with an eager look in her eyes.

“Tell me! What did you find out?!”

Elya gave her a contemplative look as she chewed a piece of bread.

“Well, it was pretty tough getting any information. This ‘203^rd Battalion’ is actually something of a secret. Some kind of experiment cooked up by the higher-ups. Of course, I would do anything for my Visha, so I took a peek into the more ‘sensitive’ information.”

She could only give her friend a deadpan look.

‘Where does Elya even get all this news from? I guess I shouldn’t think to hard about it, she would just tell me “A woman has her ways” or something if I asked.’

Visha took a bite of her cereal. Something did not sound right… at least more weird than usual when it came to ‘Elya gossip’.

“Wait a second, why would they be doing something like that here? Isn’t the West stretched super thin? How could we be doing anything experimental at this point? Wouldn’t Central Academy be better for that sort of thing?”

Elya slammed her hands to the table, startling Visha into dropping her spoon.

“Exactly! That’s what got me so interested in the first place… Ah, uh, apart from finding out more for you, I mean. Anyway, I did a little digging. It turns out, the commander is a State Alchemist. Can you believe it?”

She looked up at her friend in surprise.

“A State Alchemist?”

Elya smiled.

“And not just any State Alchemist, the youngest one in history!”

Visha stared agape.

“Wait, the 9-year-old?! That is who is going to be my commanding officer?!”

Elya nodded.

“That’s not even the weirdest part. Despite being called a battalion, there will be less than 100 positions.”

Visha put down her food and stared at her friend.

“But an Amestrian Battalion is supposed to be at least 1000 people!”

Elya shook her head.

“And not only that, but… and this is hush-hush, but they are going to use the battalion against Creta before going out East.”

“But isn’t having a State Alchemist on the front-”

“Against the Alchemy Accords? No kidding. I don’t know what’s going on, but the whole situation is fishy. So again, you did not hear any of this from me.”

At Visha’s worried look, Elya was quick to console her.

“Whatever happens I’ll look out for you, promise. You want out and I’ll find some strings to pull. Just because I’m heading to Central doesn’t mean you can’t write, okay?”

Visha promised to write and smiled slightly, but could not sustain it. Instead she played back the information in her head again and again as she carefully finishing her cereal.

‘Some weird Alchemist Battalion… potentially up to some shady things… just what am I getting myself into?’

---

August 8^th, 1908, Western Barracks Parade Ground, West City Outskirts, Amestris – Visha POV

Thankfully the mustering area for the new battalion was not far away. As she walked into the Parade Ground for the first time since her graduation ceremony. She looked up to the bleachers with a smile. It was where she sat with Elya and her other classmates as the old headmaster gave out their diplomas.

‘I think that was the proudest day of my life. For the first time since fleeing Drachma, I was finally just like everyone else.’

The stage and podium was still set up just as it had for her graduation, but now the few hundred attendees were lined up in front of it rather than in the stands. Apart from themselves, a small tent, and a few soldiers loitering in the distance, the entire parade ground was completely emptied. She was surprised that the majority of her fellow recruits were not also officers. The requirement for joining was being a Trained Alchemist, but while she knew that Alchemy Certifications were free, it was also really hard. Anyone who had the mental discipline to learn it would have had an easy time becoming officers in comparison.

While she was waiting, Visha got familiar with the other officers. She had wanted to talk to the Non-Commissioned Officers as well, but they had already formed their own groups. The tallest officer – a serious looking man with combed-back black hair – gave them all a salute and introduced himself.

“Nice to meet you all. I am 1^st Lieutenant Matheus Weiss. Sorry if I come off a little stiff, but I’ve been on the Western Front for over a year and things have been very tense. I’m always ready to help out, so don’t take it personally.”

A more heavy-set man with brown hair and also wearing a 1^st Lieutenant’s uniform let out a boisterous laugh. He slapped Lieutenant Weiss on the shoulder.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be cheery enough for the both of us. I’m Rhiner Neumann and I was in the 431^st Rifle Brigade with this dour guy over here. They merged us into the 40^th Infantry Division and I guess that freed us up to come here. Anyway, if you ever need some candy or a pack of smokes, let’s just say I know a guy who knows a guy.”

With a lull in the conversation, the last 1 ^st Lieutenant nodded and stepped into the conversation. He had dark hair and a pale complexion.

“I’m Wilibald König, but please just call me König. Unlike most people here, I was on the Aerugo Front for the most part. It’s been pretty quiet while I was there so I’m hoping a little of that luck has followed me. Anyway, I’m not much of a talker but I was a history major before joining the military so I if you want to know who the King of Constantine Republic in 1845, I’m your guy.”

With her seniors all having introduced themselves, Visha felt more comfortable chiming in.

“Ah, I’m 2^nd Lieutenant Viktoriya Ivanovna Serebryakova but please just call me Visha! I know Amestrians have a hard time with Drachman names. Um, I just graduated, but I’m a quick learner! I look forward to working with all of you!”

Realizing that she was the first one without combat experience to speak up, she felt a need to prove herself. Since she no doubt knew they would find out soon anyway, she let them in on some of the information Elya told her.

“Anyway, I heard from a friend that the Commander is the 9-year-old State Alchemist.”

The last officer – the only other 2^nd Lieutenant there – finally piped-in with an angry tone.

“What?! How could a 9-year-old even be in the army yet alone a Battalion. This is ridiculous!”

They looked at him with mixed expressions. Lieutenant Weiss and Visha were outright shocked while the other two looked embarrassed. The first thing Visha had been taught in the Academy was that there was a place and process for everything. Outright saying something negative about your superior to a fellow soldier – especially without actually knowing them – was not something you did as an Amestrian soldier.

Perhaps sensing that he overstepped, he nervously scratched his neck.

“Ah, sorry. I’m Vooren Grantz. I, uh, I also just graduated.”

Lieutenant Neumann nodded and slapped Lieutenant Grantz on the back.

“I understand where you are coming from but-”

He was about to say more when a soldier with a bugle sounded out, cutting him off.

At the sound, they instinctively formed a grid, the hundreds of soldiers rushing to stand equally-spaced apart and at attention. The officers stood at the front with the remaining enlisted and NCOs lined up behind them. When the bugle-call ended, a small girl wearing a Major’s dress uniform and cap opened the tent and walked out on stage. Visha noticed the child wore silver jewelry in the form of an intricate silver sphere as a necklace on her chest and a pocket-watch on her belt.

‘Oh my god, she’s so cute in that uniform! I- I just want to hug and protect her forever. Is this what they call motherly instincts?!’

While those thoughts played out, the Major walked up the stage and stepped up on a small wooden box. No doubt the box had been planned because when the Major adjusted the microphone stand downwards, she was forced to tilt her head slightly back to talk into it, but it just reached. This, of course, only added to her cuteness in Visha’s mind.

The Major poked the microphone, which caused an electronic squeal to ring out which got their attention.

“Good Afternoon! I am Major Tanya Degurechaff, the Mythril Alchemist. By order of Brigadier Generals Hans von Zettour and Kurt von Rudersdorf and with permission of the General Staff and the Fürer, I have been tasked with assembling an elite unit of infantry in using a newly developed experimental weapon. Regardless on the results of this training, you will not be allowed to discuss the nature of this weapon or the nature of this Battalion to anyone. This is a Project sanctioned by the Fürer. I trust you are aware of what that means.”

Visha’s dreamy thoughts were doused with cold reality; exposing a Fürer-sanctioned secret was a death sentence. Despite the Major’s appearance, the tone and cadence of her voice was anything but childish and demanded attention.

The Major waved an arm to her left, and two soldiers removed a piece of cloth on a nearby table. Beneath it, a few dozen fist-sized spheres were revealed. Their neat rows and metallic silvery forms glistened in the bright afternoon sun.

“These are the ‘Type 1’ Operation Orb. This is a new type of mechanical alchemic enhancer made from the joint effort of the Silver Alchemist Major Giolio Camanche and myself. To those of you who are quick at counting, you will notice there are 50 Orbs and 208 of you. This means that not all of you are expected to make the cut.”

The Major looked out into the crowd and Visha felt the piercing blue eyes seem to land directly on her.

“Many of you will find the task of using this weapon too difficult. Many of you will not have what it takes to make it through the next two months of training. In other words, many of you are not good enough. For the rest of you, you will look forward to endless work under the harshest conditions. You will take part in mathematical and scientific exercises that will expand your minds to the breaking-point.

“You will do this willingly, for when these two months are over, you will be alchemists second only to State Alchemists in both combat effectiveness and lethality on the battlefield. You will all be tools and pawns in the great military adventures of Amestris. That is one reason why this unit is to be called a battalion despite its lack of manpower. The General Staff expect that each of you will have the effectiveness of twenty men. I will demand more. The Fürer and your country deserve nothing less. You will receive your orders tonight. Rest well… it might be the best sleep you’ll have for the next two months.”

Visha clenched her hands at the Major’s words a new hope driving her.

‘I’ll be able to perform alchemy again? Ever since mother’s lessons, I thought I’d never get to perform real alchemy for the rest of my life.’

She had taken a dozen free certifications to prove her alchemy knowledge. She had hoped it would help her get her a job. Frustratingly, Amestrians were bigoted towards foreigners like herself. Between her limited language skills at the time and her lack of funds, finding a well paying job was impossible. She had all but given up hope of ever doing alchemy when she eventually joined the military; it was the only impartial employer willing to take her on. During her time at the Academy, she had polished her Amestrian pronunciation and made friends but she thought she had moved on from feeling anything about alchemy.

‘But if there is a chance… I’ll do whatever it takes.’

---

August 9^th, 1908, Western Academy Lecture Hall #2, West City Outskirts, Amestris – Visha POV

The wooden paneling and well-worn furniture of the Lecture Hall they were in spoke of a long and storied history. All across its walls were black-and-white photographs and painting alike of various alumni of the Academy and professors who had won many glorious achievements for Amestris. Visha was intimately familiar with the Western Academy’s lecture halls to the point that coming back was almost a point of pain.

She sighed.

“Just a week ago, I thought my coursework was over, and now I’m already back for more…”

Neumann laughed.

“Don’t be so glum, it’s worse for people like us who haven’t been back for years.”

König smirked.

“Yes, I imagine that standards must have changed since a gorilla like yourself was allowed to graduate. Should we be surprised if you drop out today?”

Neumann flexed his left bicep while pointing towards his head.

“I’ll have you know that I’m have the full package: brains and brawn. While I have no worries about studying, I would be more worried about yourself Wilibald. Lifting books isn’t going to keep you in if the Major has us to doing endurance or survival training.”

König grimaced.

“Hey! I told you not to call me-”

*Bang*

They all quickly went to their seats as they found the Major had dropped a thick textbook onto the desk at the front of the room.

“Good morning! I see that you are all very energetic this morning. This is good! I hope that optimism remains. I have found that a bright and optimistic outlook is useful in retaining new information, and you will be learning a lot.”

Major Degurechaff stepped up on a stool so that she could reach the top of the chalkboard and began to sketch a transmutation circle, a number of lines with letters next to them and several algebraic expressions using those letters.

“Before you can use the Operation Orb, you will need to master the field of ‘Dynamic Array Alchemy’. Trained Alchemists like yourself might have had problems envisioning and understanding the vague ‘Art’ of alchemy, but unlike typical alchemy, even an idiot can master this.”

She drew 3 x 3 grid and filled in each cell with an algorithm containing a number of trigonometric functions.

“This is a matrix. It is a two-dimensional drawing used to simplify certain mathematical operations. I will be beating the calculations of these matrices into your head until you can hear them in your sleep. I will do this because the Operation Orb cannot function without the solutions of these calculations. It cannot think; it’s just a chunk of silver. It will not know you are being shot at with a gun or how much power it should use in deflecting the bullets. What can think is you.”

She spent the next two minutes drawing six separate transmutation circles all over the board. The complex shapes were strange, like an alien with no understanding of alchemy tried to draw one before putting the result through a wood chipper. It looked nothing like any Circle Visha had ever seen before.

“As an example, these are the Intermediate Transmutation Circles for ‘Deflection of 8mm Mauser ammunition’ used in my demonstration yesterday. With these forming a three-dimensional construct, any Trained Alchemist becomes immune to 8mm ammunition.

“Now, let me break down how the Operation Orb constructs the first of these six circles. The first circle is calculated by performing a Linear Transformation using the matrix ‘T_M’ constructed using the average and variable mass ‘M_A’ and ‘M_V’ of an 8mm bullet transformed over the eigenvector ‘v_D’ made by the scalar multiplication of the average speed ‘S_A’ of the bullet with the average deflection angle about the volume of space I will now refer to as the Deflection Isolation Volume ‘V_DI’. As most of these values can be trivially calculated, the focus can be given to the formula T_M(v_D) = λ_M v_D. The eigenvalue solution of this – when programmed into the Operation Orb – constructs the first circle.

“Next, the second circle is calculated by…”

---

A bell chimed eight hours later. The Major turned away from the board and looked at them with a smile.

“Ah, I suppose that’s it. I hope that everyone has paid close attention to my lecture today. Without this vital information, you will sooner kill yourself than safely use the Operation Orb.”

She pointed to a stack of paper on the desk.

“This here is homework which you all will work on for the rest of the day. We will have a week of these lectures followed by an exam. Once that is out of the way, we can start with Field Training… at least, anyone that passes the exam will be continuing. The rest of you will be kicked out of the Battalion. Good luck!”

On that cheery note, the Major left the classroom, no doubt to get other things ready. The rest of the over 200 recruits in the room groaned.

“I’m not the only one, right? That was impossible!”

“Was that even math?! Where were the numbers? I stayed on as an NCO so I’d never see math again, damnit!”

“Should we just quit now? What’s the point of even trying? More of that for a whole week?!”

Except for König and herself, every other person in the room was saying similar things. Visha was stunned. For her, the explanation was clear and concise.

‘I thought the Major was actually a really good teacher. I was just like the lessons Mom used to teach- no wait, that’s it! It isn’t that the Major is a good or bad teacher, she just assumes that everyone already knows the basics!’

Visha rushed to the front of the class and grabbed everyone’s attention.

“Everyone! I think I know why you’re all having a hard time with this! I think the Major just has a hard time figuring out where everyone stands academically since she is so smart.”

One of the soldiers seemed unimpressed.

“Oh yeah? If you have this all figured out, why don’t you teach us? What the heck was the Major talking about?”

Visha had a revelation.

‘If I can teach everyone what I know, won’t that mean the Major will have more people to help and protect her? Could this be the small way I can help her and Amestris?’

Once again, she felt a swell of pride just like at her graduation. She had a place to belong again. She smiled.

“Alright, but be prepared, if you flunk out after my lecture, there won’t be any second chances!”

She quickly drew a grid on the board and a few vectors.

“Alright, so imagine that a matrix isn’t just a fancy ‘math square’ but a set of geometric vectors. A vector is just an arrow, it has a size and a direction like this. As you can see here…”

They had the remaining 8 hours of each day to both figure this out and solve the homework. Visha vowed to make every moment count.

---

August 17^th, 1908, Western Academy Lecture Hall #2, West City Outskirts, Amestris – Tanya POV

Tanya looked at the report with incredulous rage. Her small hands balled into fists and ripped the page in two.

“What… no, this can’t be right. How could 162 of the 208 recruits have passed the exam?!”

Her experiments on the front line had proven that her theories about the Orb were sound. Save for the Silver Alchemist – who was far too busy creating new Orbs for the government – she was the only person alive that could qualify what ‘passing’ meant. So long as her training was not impossible such that at least one person passed, she had free reign to crush the recruits into dust with impunity. So long as the number of passing recruits fell far below the 50 Orbs available, she would be given more time to find more qualified recruits. It would not be enough to save her from the battlefield forever, but even an extra month would be one month closer to her State Certification renewal and a month less on the front lines.

“Yet somehow a room full of muscle-brained soldiers with no post-secondary experience figured out inverse-kinematics in only a week! Even when I was at university in the modern age, that would have taken me a full semester. Sure, it is technically achievable with a strong foundation and hard work, but that still should’ve been enough to kick most of them out!”

She sighed, doing her best to settle her emotions.

“This is fine. It is just the 1^st week of 8. I have plenty of chances to sneak in a few borderline-impossible tasks to flunk out the majority, but it can’t be too obvious or too hard or it will be caught by the supervisors. I… I just need to do a little fine-tuning.”

---

Greeting the remaining recruits with a fake smile, she voiced out her false congratulations.

“It appears that all of you are keeping up with the math assignments, this is… entirely expected. As these academic exercises were so easy, I have decided to increase the pace of future exercises to improve effectiveness. Less effective training means less effective soldiers, and less effective soldiers means more dead ones! So I expect that you are all grateful!”

Unlike what she expected, the recruits all seemed unanimous in having steely-eyed expressions.

“Sir, yes sir!”

Tanya was surprised that they were all still so dedicated despite her obviously lack-luster teaching performance.

‘I literally told them that ineffective training would get them killed, yet they don’t care how poor my teaching has been?! In fact, they are more motivated than ever! Are they just that desperate for these new powers that they will risk their lives for it? No, that doesn’t matter. I have made the course ten times harder. They will drop out with this for sure!’

She took her next packet of homework and distributed it to the class.

“Alright, you will memorize the contents of these tables tonight and recite them during our field exercises tomorrow. At the end of this training, there will be an exam! More fieldwork doesn’t mean less homework! Fall behind and you will be dropped out!”

Despite her dark promises of unforgiving physical and mental abuse, the remaining recruits did not budge.

‘Just what do I need to do to break these guys?!’

---

August 24^th, 1908, Military Frontier Alpine Training Range, Riviere Outskirts, Amestris – Visha POV

Deep in the mountains to the north-west of Riviere, the potential 203^rd Battalion was hiking in full combat gear up the steep slopes. Despite the frigid temperatures and reduced oxygen, no one complained. Every step was one step closer to being an elite-of-elites, to being the strongest soldier on the battlefield. In the face of such adversity, Visha felt a bond of brotherhood with her fellow soldier. She would not allow anyone to be left behind and knew the others felt the same. More than the others, she was motivated to see things to the end no matter what.

‘I will be an alchemist! I don’t care if I have to carry the same weight and climb the same hills as the men, nothing will stop me!’

At the front of their column, the Major was carrying the same equipment as the rest, but she looked no worse for wear. Visha had no doubt that the glowing orb on her chest was allowing her to do things beyond what should be possible, but rather than thinking less of her for it, the troops were even more motivated.

‘There’s so much she can do, I want to do that too!’

The Major gave them a vicious smirk.

“I can see your anger, your frustration. You want to quit, don’t you? You should. If you don’t have the endurance now, you’ll be of no use on the battlefield. The Orb can protect you from bullets, but you’re not invincible. You still need to run from artillery, put on a mask for gas and take out flame-throwing soldiers before they asphyxiate and burn you alive. Without the strength and speed to hold on you will die.”

The Mythril Alchemist turned suddenly and yelled out.

“Drachma Rifle, Mass Value 1!”

Visha and the recruits quickly yelled out the response to the Major’s “table call”.

““22.6!””

The number was the expected first mass-eigenvalue input into the Orb calculation for deflecting a Drachman 8mm rimmed rifle round.

“Mark 12 Aerugan, Volume Vector 3!”

Next was the volume eigenvector for the 3 ^rd calculation but the answer was a bit more complicated since Major Degurechaff did not explicitly provide the details they needed. They needed to know that the M12 Aerugan tank’s main armament was a 40mm cannon. They were a little slower, but still fast enough.

““814!””

“Creta 7mm, Speed Vector 4!”

Next was the 7mm Cretan rifle round. Visha responded quickly, but she noticed that one of the soldiers was late.

““21.2!””

Major Degurechaff seemed to notice as well and quickly rushed over to one of the soldiers. She grabbed his shirt to get a look at the man’s name-tag. She twisted up in a look of disgust.

“Corporal Richter, do you think these table calls are a joke?! A Cretan Border Patrol just killed you!”

She pointed to two soldiers nearby.

“Private Schulz, Sergeant Hoffmann, you have just been volunteered to carry your worthless Corporal the rest of the way! Why is that?”

All the recruits were quick to respond.

““Dead soldiers are dead weight!””

Visha smiled as she spoke the words. It was one of several “slogans” the Mythril Alchemist had introduced. While the training was brutal, it really drove home the importance of everything they were learning.

The Major frowned.

“That’s right, your failures are everyone’s failures; if you pass, your failures will be my failures. That means playtime is over! Anyone else late on their table calls are out of the battalion!”

She went up and down the line, looking at each of them in the eye.

“But why wait? This pain can all be over whenever you want. I don’t need most of you; you can just quit and leave this all behind. No more math, no more table calls, no more angry little Major bossing you around.”

Visha did not need to look to know that they all had the same determined expression as she had on her face. It had taken the officers a few days, but together, they had figured out the true purpose to the Major’s sudden antagonism. Weiss had had heard from a friend-of-a-friend that the Mythril Alchemist had done time on the Western Front. He realized – as a veteran of the front – that the level of physical and mental exertion was comparable to what they felt being shelled day after day. It was clear, then, that the Major was preparing them for that type of combat. She was a perfectionist and was molding them into perfect soldiers.

‘I will not let her trust in us be in vain!’

The Major, however, looked like she was actually angry that no one was volunteering to drop out. Visha could see through the lie though; the Major was taking on all their animosity so that they could only focus on working together to overcome her trials.

Major Degurechaff spat at the ground near their feet.

“Well fine! If you dumb muscle-headed recruits like this training so much, give me 100 push-ups right now! And yes, Schulz, Hoffmann, you will be doing these push-ups with Richter on your backs. Go on!”

Without taking off their packs, Visha and the rest of them got down on all fours and began to do their push ups. She could feel the sweat pouring off her face and freezing on the hard ground below. Visha repeated a mantra in her head with every push.

‘T-this is nothing! I’ll be an a-alchemist! This is n-nothing! I’ll be an alchemist! This is nothing…’

---

August 26^th, 1908, Military Frontier Alpine Training Range, Riviere Outskirts, Amestris – Visha POV

Visha and the 141 remaining recruits stood in a perfectly formed grid in the middle of an open field. The unit had given many tearful farewells as 19 of their number was removed from the Battalion. It was tough, but there was no regrets. The rest of them promised to keep in touch and would let them know if openings or recruitment was being considered again.

Visha could not spend much time reminiscing about the past, however, when the present was very forcefully making itself known. They had graduated from carrying a full pack of equipment up a mountain. Now they worked with a partner to carry human-sized logs above their heads. Her muscles screamed for relief, but she focused on the feeling of unused muscles growing with determination. If someone had asked her to carry something even a tenth of the weight going into the training, Visha would have laughed at the absurdity or just quit before she even started.

Well, she was not laughing any more. Neither was the Major as she got into the face of the soldier in front of her and yelled at the top of her lungs.

“Corporal Vogt! Eight Drachman Rifleman are firing at you! What speed-variability coefficient should you use!”

“S-seventeen point one with-”

“Fast reaction, but wrong! We aren’t doing table calls anymore, moron! Now you need to think on your feet! Most of the rifleman were using the Drachman rimmed 7.62 rounds, but what you thought was a strangely heavy-set rifleman was actually a soldier carrying an old LMG using rimless ammo! Just because the bullets are close enough not to break your ‘Deflection’, doesn’t mean you’re not dead.”

To make her point, the Major kicked the man square in the chest, causing him and his partner to topple over with their log onto the hard-packed, frozen ground. The Major looked indifferent to their plight and even had a small grin on her face.

“Think you can maintain a ‘Deflect’ right now? That’s what it would feel taking a dozen rimless rounds with your overly precise calculation! That goes for the rest of you! It’s more taxing, but use a wider band when you need it! Burning out is recoverable, death isn’t!”

The Major moved on, but Visha noticed a small grin appear on the man’s face. She knew exactly what he is thinking since she had the same grin. He looked at her and they both nodded to each other. He and his partner picked up the log without protest or help and moved back into the line.

‘He knows the Major just saved his life. I know he won’t be making that mistake again.’

---

August 31^st, 1908, Military Frontier Alpine Training Range, Riviere Outskirts, Amestris – Visha POV

The previous alpine exercises had them carrying extra weight and pushed their physical endurance to their limits. The current one had them only in their summer uniform and the freezing weather was tapping them of their remaining stores of energy. Visha and several others were trying hard, but they could not help but shiver minutely in the freezing wind.

The Major – as usual – was playing her role as a sadistic taskmaster perfectly. She wore a fierce smirk as she walked down their perfect rows.

“Congratulations to all of you still here! You have now graduated to the painful non-lethal exercises and can finally use an Operation Orb! But that’s the good news. On the other hand, I have just been granted approval for lethal exercises. I cannot wait to use them. While I will try not to kill any of you, there are no guarantees. Of course, if you were to quit before that, you would be depriving me of this great pleasure.”

Rather than discourage Visha, it only served to motivate her more. There was no way that the enemy would play nice and try not to kill them, so it only made sense to have potentially lethal practice before being deployed.

‘She really does care a lot about us. She tries to put up a front of being cruel, but the constant warnings and the effort she puts into getting us to quit before we push ourselves too hard makes her true motivations clear. Don’t worry Major, I will complete this training and protect your gentle heart, I promise!’

The Major finished walking between their rows and stood in front of them. She lifted up her Operation Orb in her hands.

“The Operation Orb has no mind of its own. It is a powerful tool, but it is just a tool. It will not think for you, it cannot act without you. It will falter when you falter. You have learned how to use it, now you must learn when to use it.”

She walked over to an artillery shell that was next to a small arsenal of ammunition and the 50 Operation Orbs they would finally get to use. She pointed up and down the length of the shell.

“Shrapnel from artillery is both more and less lethal than bullets. Most shrapnel will miss you since it is omni-directional, but when something does come your way, there is a large variability in speed and mass. This makes your ‘Deflect’ harder to maintain. Lieutenant Serebryakova, why is that?”

Visha stood up straight. She had never been called before and would not let the Battalion down. She puffed up her chest and yelled from her diaphragm.

“Sir! Large variability means more a less accurate Operation and more mental strain, sir!”

“Good guess, but wrong! There is less of it and it is not shaped for penetration like a bullet. All-in-all, the mental strain is comparable to a machine gun for the instant it detonates. No, the problem is that you can’t see artillery! Hearing a shell does not mean there will be any shrapnel coming your way, but you cannot take that risk! One missed ‘Deflect’ and you’re dead! A solution could be to protect yourself from every shell you hear, but keeping your ‘Deflection’ up for so long could burn through your ‘Mental Willpower’ in minutes. Luckily, I have the perfect solution.”

She did not explain herself immediately. Instead, she handed out the Orbs to a subset of the recruits and ordered the remaining ones to begin setting up audio equipment and taking various rifles and ammunition from the pile.

She gave them a wide smile.

“For the next 36 hours, you will hear the variety of different artillery sounds from the speakers around you. Just before the ‘shell’ lands, a signal will let your fellow recruits know to fire dummy munitions of different calibers at you. The shots will not kill you, but it will hurt a lot. After ten minutes, you will swap out with the next batch to use the Orb. Of course, you will be doing exercises during this ‘down time’. You may feel free to use ‘Deflect’ whenever you want. Use it too little and enjoy getting shot. Use it too much and you will burn out and get shot.”

She laughed.

“I’m sure some of you will figure it out. For the rest, I have a feeling you are in for a world of pain!”

---

September 4^th, 1908, Military Frontier Alpine Training Range, Riviere Outskirts, Amestris – Visha POV

The Major was right.

While Visha felt she was one of the best at using ‘Deflect’, she was still feeling welts days later. Of course, she wore that feeling with pride. Every hit shot was a hit she would not be taking on the battlefield. The officers were quick to remind everyone of the true purpose of the training whenever anyone started acting frustrated. There had been no one who voluntarily quit since then.

‘Honestly, the Major is a genius in every sense of the word. Like everyone else, I had my reservations about being let by a child, but there’s no doubt in my mind now. I will do anything to protect Tanya. Amestris would never recover her loss… and neither would anyone here.’

The Major appeared frustrated for some reason, but quickly the State Alchemist schooled her expression and yelled out at them.

“119 of you still remain. Of course, this just means you will be given the opportunity to take part in the first of many live-fire exercises! Of course, I do not want to accidentally kill any of you and so we will begin slow.”

The Major took out a Luger from her belt holster and shot herself in the foot. The sight and sound of the action caused them to flinch, but at this point, there was nothing the Major could do to truly surprise them any more. Of course, the bullet of her Luger was deflected and instead impacted the dirt next to her foot.

‘I just wish the Major didn’t feel the need to potentially hurt herself just to make a point. Any one of us would be willing to serve as an example, but that’s just what makes her so good. She is so kind and that self-sacrificing nature makes any one of us willing to die for her.’

The Major sneered at them.

“As only idiots shoot their own foot, I will expect that anyone who manages to injure themselves here will quit and never return. Do not use a precise calculation. Keep the ‘Deflection’ barrier coarse and slowly fine-tune it to match the ammunition of your pistol. I will not warn you again.”

Visha sees that the others are hesitating, but she trusted her commander. Preparing the formula input in the Orb, she took out her own Luger and pulls the trigger at her foot. Just like with their non-lethal training, the bullet harmlessly collided with the ground.

The Major points to her with a big smile that Visha reciprocated.

“Well, it’s good to see at least one of you isn’t a coward. Well? What are you waiting for?!”

As the others also shoot at their feet, Visha notes that no one else had injured themselves either.

‘Tanya really is an amazing teacher. By slowly building the intensity and being ruthless in punishing any infraction, the whole Battalion is no longer making any mistakes, despite most of us being sleep-deprived and exhausted from all the exercise. I have no doubt we’ll be able to keep up a Deflect even in the harshest conditions!’

The Major seems frustrated. The young commander was still “playing up” her sadistic persona despite no one buying into the act anymore.

“Damn, it seems like none of you are going to the hospital. Well, keep it that way. Now, you all have felt the ‘feedback’. That mental strain is caused by your lack of alchemy experience and your imprecise Transmutation. With experience, you will learn to mitigate this by fine-tuning the barrier. Too coarse, and the mental strain will quickly cripple you. Too fine, and an enemy using an unexpected caliber will pierce your barrier. This will be a constant balancing act that will keep you alive and by association, you will keep me alive. Remember it!”

---

September 18^th, 1908, Military Frontier Alpine Training Range, Riviere Outskirts, Amestris – Tanya POV

While the last two weeks could have been described as hell for the recruits, it was equally hell for Tanya.

‘They won’t drop out! What is this madness?! I blew them up, shot at them, forced them to go days without food and had them hike up mountains without rest! I repeatedly told them that every one of their minor mistakes would get them killed on the battlefield and that my training could potentially kill them. Forget quitting, they should be filing into a psychiatric facility! I would feel genuinely sorry for them, if they had just quit. Why are they still here?

‘When I asked Brigadier General Zettour to give me whatever he had available, I didn’t think he would send me this pack of bloodthirsty monsters! Was this some ploy of his? Damnit, that sly fox! Well, whether on purpose or not, I’m forced to resign to the fact that I will be graduating at least 50 soldiers to the 203^rd Battalion. Now I have the opposite problem. I’ve just ridiculed and threatened all of these potential subordinates, but now I cannot afford for any of the remaining 81 people left to drop out! If I am forced to have a full contingent of ‘Operators’ and go out on the front lines, I want as many meat-shields as possible between me and the enemy!’

She gritted her teeth before yelling out to the remaining soldiers who had passed the live-fire ‘Deflection’ training.

“Somehow, 52 of you are already capable of maintaining a Deflection Barrier up to combat standards. I expect that all of you will maintain that level of effectiveness by the time this training is over. Now we will be moving onto the ‘Destroy’ portion of the live-fire exercises. Unlike Deflection, Destroy is both easier and more costly. Each silver bullet you use could have bought a round from an artillery piece and it is far less destructive! Because of that, you you will be practicing with dummy rounds before moving onto this…”

She pulled off a nearby tarp to reveal several large crates of ammunition.

“Do not let the appearance fool you, this is all the ammunition we have made and I will not tolerate it wasted frivolously. If after the first 10 shots with the real deal, you are unable to cause more than 5 detonations, you will be removed from this training. I do not care if less than 50 of you can do it.”

Again, the soldiers did not budge.

‘Well… I might not have been able to delay the deployment of the battalion, but at least they’ve proven themselves worth all the extra effort. The State has many new resources to work with, and I have many new meat-shields. Truly the sort of win-win that can be expected in a rational, modern society. Now I just need to spend the next few weeks giving them encouragement and praise and hope none of them remember all the awful things I’ve said.’

---

October 8^th, 1908, Western Academy Parade Ground, West City Outskirts, Amestris – Visha POV

If Visha was any less tired, she would be sporting a huge grin on her face. 60 days of the harshest, most intense training of her life had completely transformed her. While she still could not understand what had caused the Major to work so hard and risk everything to create such an incredible weapon like the Operation Orb at such a young age, the 2 ^nd Lieutenant could now understand what was going through her head when she charged straight at a machine gun.

‘It isn’t that it is a pleasant experience – no, it’s terrifying – but it’s also the only thing us weak humans can do to overcome the sheer might of modern weapons! When a normal soldier sees a machine gun in a fortified position, all they can do is hide and hope artillery or a tank somewhere can come take it out. Not the 203^rd! We can run headlong into danger and come out the other side unscathed!’

She looked around and saw that all her fellow officers had made the cut. The Officers, NCOs and Enlisted stood at attention in their best dress uniforms. She noticed that even some of the more sloppy dressers like Rhiner Neumann had ironed and polished his uniform to a mirror-like sheen. She also observed that – on herself and several others – the uniforms no longer fit perfectly. She felt a tightness where new muscles had formed and a looseness where she had lost weight.

It surprised her because no one talked about their fitness or even tried comparing themselves with their fellow recruits on their performance. Male or female, Officer or Enlisted, their capability with ‘Deflect’ or ‘Destroy’, none of their differences were cause for debate. They had gone through the same training. Anything they lacked would improve with time. Their genius commander had approved of each and every one of them. That was worth far more than any petty “one-upmanship”.

The Mythril Alchemist stood before them in her dress uniform too. Her officer cap, Operation Orb and Silver Pocket-Watch shined in the sun.

“The 81 of you standing here today represent the best Trained Alchemists in the world. This is not a boast. No one short of a State Alchemist can do what you can do now. You all stand head-and-shoulders above your peers and have achieved something truly momentous. While I regret that there has only been 50 Orbs made, know that all of you deserve to wear one now. You are all members of the 203^rd Battalion!”

Despite being barely able to stand, she and the newfound members of the 203^rd could not help but give small smiles in hearing the Major’s words.

“Some of you may not think so; some of you are no doubt unconvinced that the pain and effort of the past two months have been worth it. Perhaps a few of you think I was cruel. I understand, but I will tell you this. When we arrive on the battlefield in less than a week, we will do so not as soldiers, but as a machine wielding the full industrial might of Amestris. We will be the tip of the spear and the flat of the shield. Every battle we participate from this day forwards will not only take the lives of our enemies, but will save the lives of our fellow soldiers and our loved ones at home from foreign tyranny. You are now the best of the best in Amestris! I am proud of you all. Get some rest, for tomorrow we depart for the front!”

Chapter Text

October 6^th , 1908, Western Command Headquarters, West City, Amestris – Tanya POV

Brigadier General Hans von Zettour put down Major Tanya Degurechaff’s report and leaned forwards at his desk. He looked intently at the young State Alchemist standing across from him with unconcealed curiosity.

“Your progress with the Fürer’s project has been remarkable. When you were providing me your initial updates, I had thought that you were perhaps trying to cause every one of the soldiers I had sent you to fail.”

Tanya did her best not to look nervous. That had been her plan and it should have worked flawlessly.

‘Except it is obvious that General Zettour did not give me a few “left-overs” like he promised. I don’t care what the official reports say about their previous assignments, the 203^rd is clearly filled with bloodthirsty, veteran warmongers! Who else could have passed through that hellish training?! I have to be a lot more careful going forward. The General saw through my plan to delay and ruthlessly cut it short, so what else has he got planned?’

The small smile the Brigadier General showed gave her chills.

“Well, despite your… unorthodox style of training, I cannot deny its effectiveness. I am sure you are anxious to learn what the military has planned for your ‘Battalion’ next.”

She did want to know about that – as much as she might have wanted to delay that indefinitely – and so she said as much. General Zettour took out a document and handed it over. It was an envelope sealed with the Fürer’s official seal.

The General leaned back in his chair and sighed.

“Unfortunately, I already know what your orders say. You have only until November 1^st to remain on this front before the Fürer insists that you make way for Ishval.”

Tanya was relieved. Things were progressing faster than she had anticipated, but at least she would be away from the Western Front.

‘It’s clear that Ishval will not be a walk-in-the-park, but if General Zettour only has a month, what could he order me to do? A few front-line engagements? So long as I carefully plan every aspect, the risk of coming against one of the Orb’s weakness is unlikely.’

She smiled and gave the General a salute.

“I am thankful for your efforts in putting my Battalion together. It is very unfortunate that I will not be able to do much to aid you and your responsibilities like we had planned.”

General Zettour shook his head.

“It truly is. At the rate things are going, we are at risk of this ‘Border Conflict’ escalating. We have yet to call on for General Mobilization, I’m sure you know why that is.”

Tanya grimaced. As much as she wanted to avoid the front lines, she wanted that even less.

“If Amestris mobilized, all our neighbors would as well. It would be a World War.”

The General nodded.

“A unique way to put it, though it is doubtful it would spread beyond the continent. It is a sobering prospect. Until now, mobilization as a concept has never drawn upon the vital resources of the nation. Likewise, Amestris has only conquered local polities like Riviere. Otherwise, the State has held its ground, but never against multiple fronts with Equal or Greater Powers. The recent conflicts have shown that we will struggle immensely. With that in mind, we must win a decisive victory here, and your soldiers are the best chance of that. I’m sure you have no reservations?”

Tanya knew she could not afford to have any. General Zettour had already put a large sum of his dwindling cash flow into her project. For the month, she was at his beck-and-call for anything; anything less would be spitting in the face of his generosity.

If anything she was confused.

“But how? A month and 82 soldiers are hard limits. What exactly do you expect us to do that could change the situation on the front?”

She would regret asking.

---

October 8^th, 1908, Western Command Headquarters, West City, Amestris – Hans POV

For the first time in 7 months, the General Staff of the Western Front was meeting at Headquarters to discuss strategy. The seven Major Generals of the Infantry Divisions, the four Brigadier Generals of the Rifle Brigades, Brigadier General Hans von Zettour in charge of Logistics, Brigadier General Kurt von Rudersdorf in charge of Offensive Strategy and several select aides and Staff Officers were crowded into a large conference room.

The atmosphere was tense as the Generals eyed their adversaries. In the Amestrian army, results were the only thing that mattered. Everyone competed for promotions and the discussion was bound to get heated. For now, they sat at a large table and quietly reviewed a report given them just moments earlier by an aide. At the head of the table, General Philip Gargantos Armstrong was drinking a glass of wine and had not even glanced at the paper in front of him.

General Armstrong was a fossil of traditional doctrine and a man either one step away from retirement or the grave. Yet, Hans could not help but be grateful for his presence. While the large and well-groomed man had very little to say regarding modern strategy or bold off-the-wall thinking, he was nevertheless a pillar of leadership respected by the Traditionalists for his storied military career and the Reformers for being willing to listen and accept their new ideas. It was thanks to his approval that Reformists like Hans and Kurt were able to speak above their rank in meetings like this and that their new approaches to defensive warfare and logistics allowed the front to hold out for so long.

Once General Armstrong finished his drink and let out a boisterous laugh. He tossed the paper forwards and bellowed out for all to hear.

“So, I see you’re all as tense as ever. Why don’t we start with something simple, what is the current situation on the front?”

At that, General Rudersdorf stood up since this was his job now. His actual role had been effectively made useless as every offensive strategy he put forth was declined for lack of resources. As such, he had been relegated to compiling and summarizing the situation on the ground for the past few months. He did not like it, but did so without voluntarily. Everyone else was too busy either holding the line or trying to solve the ever worsening supply problems.

At Kurt’s signal, an aide rolled out a map on the table.

General Rudersdorf took out a pointer from under the desk and began to point out to the map.

“The front is stable, but worsening by the day. We have had trouble holding forward trenches on half of the line due to a lack of shells needed for counter-battery fire on enemy artillery. Creta does not take our trenches when we abandon them and seems content with the status quo of attrition which is favoring them. Creta has increased their volume of artillery fire by roughly 8% every month for the past six months while our artillery has seen a similar rate of decline. Current estimates gauge that Creta has around 200,000 personnel to our 188,483 but it is likely that the true number of enemy soldiers could be higher. It is the guess of my staff and intelligence that they are waiting for a decisive advantage in numbers before attempting an all-out assault on our lines.

“As of right now, approval had been given to engineering teams near Pendleton and Providence to construct a secondary trench system which can concentrate our forces and fix some of the supply issues. This has been completed. Our spies in Constantine and Millersburg do not think that an assault is going to happen soon as there has not been a significant build-up of materiel in their depots. As such, it is unlikely we will need to use these secondary lines.”

The news was not new, but everyone still had bitter expressions. Pendleton, Anderson and Millersburg were towns that Amestris had captured from Creta 15 years ago. While losing them would be a strategic blow, it was an acceptable one given the reality of their protracted Civil War in Ishval which drastically changed the strategic situation in the West. However, the fact that fighting could move to put enemy artillery in range of the Amestrian town of Providence south of Pendleton, was a tacit admission that the Amestrian military was going to fail its primary duty: protecting the citizens of Amestris.

The war was no stranger to civilian deaths, of course. Both Creta and Amestris had fired new long-range railroad-mounted cannons at civilian targets in the unlikely case that attacking them would cause the enemy to quickly give up. However, it became clear that such measures were ineffective, costly and inhumane and so civilians had been safe during the rest of the conflict. If that were to change and a volume of fire similar to that on the front line were to reach the urban area of Providence, however, it was foreseeable that Amestris might sue for peace rather than face the catastrophic civilian and economic loss.

It was far more likely that Amestris would call for general mobilization and rapidly escalate the conflict. It was universally agreed that this was to be avoided at all cost. For moral reasons, this was to avoid needless death. More practically, it was because the escalation would likely have all the generals in the room either forever passed up for promotion, or otherwise forcibly retired. Letting a weaker nation like Creta get the better of their professional military would be an international embarrassment.

As Kurt sat down, General Armstrong closed his eyes and nodded his head.

“I think it is pretty clear we’re on the back foot. It was hoped that the Fürer’s Order 3066 would bring a decisive end to the Isvalan Revolt and give us the men and resources we desperately need, but we can not rely on that any longer. Even if the revolt were to end tomorrow, Creta would attack before we could get our reinforcements and the result would not be in our favor.”

General Armstrong looked to Hans and Kurt and crossed his arms.

“So, I’m assuming that the two of you called this meeting in order to change our situation, is that correct?”

‘You would know that if you read the report in front of you…’

Hans let his minuscule anger dissipate. He did not actually hold the General’s irreverent attitude against him . The report by Major Degurechaff with additional commentary from himself would help prove his point, but it was a point far better said than read.

Hans stood up and nodded to Kurt.

“That is correct, General. The report in front of you details the performance of a new weapon, the Operation Orb. It is my belief that utilizing this weapon in an effective manner will create a turnaround of our situation. The 51 Orbs created for-”

Major General Gärtner – the stern, bespectacled commander of the 9^th Infantry Division – stood up, cutting Hans off.

“This is clearly a waste of time. I have little doubt that a project under the Fürer’s auspices would be nothing short of incredible, but this is no Wunderwaffe as you Westerners would put it. 50 soldiers – even 50 State Alchemists – would not be able to change the situation on this battlefield by any appreciable extent. We are talking about an advantage of at least thirty-thousand Creta soldiers here.”

Hans could only bite back a retort, especially since the Major General seemed to be ignoring his own Western heritage. As a member of the Traditionalists, Gärtner’s asinine comments caused Kurt and himself no end of frustration. While the Major General never gave any solutions, he was always ready to quickly shut down the solutions of others purely for what Hans could only conclude were “Politically Motivated”.

General Armstrong laughed. He turned to smile at General Gärtner.

“Your last point is certainly worthy of consideration, but I have to question your first one. I do not know about the rest of you, but I have not been doing much productive work these last few months. I do not think our time is so valuable at the moment that we cannot discuss any new ideas. Perhaps you or someone other than our gracious hosts Generals Zettour and Rudersdorf here can give some alternative solution? Something that could turn the tide of misfortune we’ve found ourselves in?”

Hans smirked at the direction of the conversation. General Gärtner, however, seemed as though he was personally insulted by the words.

“There is still the possibility of an all-out assault. If we were to concentrate our forces on a small part of their line we could-”

He was cut off by the sound of groaning and jeering from the other Generals. Gärtner was forced to sit down and grumble in his seat.

General Armstrong chuckled.

“If you wish to write a treatise on that, we can talk about it in private, but I think the others have made their position on that clear. An all-out assault six months ago when we had the superior numbers would have had questionable military and political results. With this horrid form of ‘defense warfare’ that has emerged, I do not believe our current position has given us any advantages since then.”

When the noise died down, he turned to Kurt and Hans and gave a smile.

“Now, Brigadier Generals, if you wouldn’t mind continuing?”

Hans did as ordered.

“Gentleman, some have you have read the report, some of you have not.” A not so subtle look towards General Armstrong had the man let out a chuckle and a shrug. “To those who have not, I will summarize. The Operation Orb gives a common soldier some limited alchemic abilities. The two abilities as of now are: firing a rifle with the force of a field gun, and immunity to most projectiles.”

The latter admission had the other generals clamoring, but Kurt was quick to continue.

“Despite these obvious advantages, the weapon still has some drawbacks which are obviously classified at the highest levels. The most relevant strategic weakness of the weapon – which I can discuss – is that it can only be used for a limited time. An ‘Operator’ of an Orb can only maintain the effects in a combat situation for about two hours a day before the chances of mistakes and death increase drastically. I have spoken to the Mythril Alchemist personally and she says that this is a problem inherent in her ‘Dynamic Transmutation Circle Technology’ the Orb uses and is not something that can be fixed or will improve without several months of development. This is offset somewhat by the 82 Operators of the 203^rd Battalion who can rotate their use of the 51 available Orbs. Likewise, pairs or groups of Operators can protect each other, extending the duration at the expense of tactical flexibility.”

General Armstrong waited for General Zettour to finish before responding.

“This all sounds quite remarkable, but I will have to echo Major General Gärtner’s earlier concern. I can only imagine how this could change warfare in the future, but with so few weapons, it simply cannot make enough of a difference to change this war. Once the enemy starts feeling the effect of these Operators, they will realize that their current attrition plan will no longer work, and will attack us in force.”

General Gärtner also chimed in.

“What’s more, you have neglected to mention that the Fürer has only approved of the use of this weapon here for less than a month. On November 1^st, his Excellency will be expecting this ‘203^rd Battalion’ in Ishval! Again, I demand to know why we are here! What can 82 people they possibly do in such an insignificant period of time?! Even over 100 State Alchemists could not significantly change the situation in Ishval.”

At this, General Rudersdorf stood up to support his colleague.

“You’re right. Hans and I have discussed this at length and have even considered potential classified countermeasures the enemy could deploy. Neither of us are here to tell you that this weapon is without its flaws.”

Hans signaled for one of the aides to unroll a new map on the table. Already several of the Generals were up in arms at just a glance. He looked at their outraged faces. He could feel his career hanging by a thread. There would be no turning back.

‘I hope that Tanya appreciates how far I am sticking my neck out for her project. Regardless, it is an obvious choice. A rising star like her should not be held back by old men like us. For the good of Amestris.’

He turned to the group of Generals, straightened his uniform and prepared to give them the best damn presentation he has ever made.

“What we are here to tell you of is our plan to use the newly formed 203^rd Battalion to win this war.”

---

October 16^th, 1908, Millersburg Outskirts, Creta Occupied Area – Tanya POV

Just over a week had passed and everything was going perfectly according to the plans of the General Staff. This was not due to incompetence of the enemy. In fact, it relied on them being smart and seizing the initiative. The only failing of the Cretan Armies was their ignorance of the Operation Orb’s capabilities; they could not know they were being forced to act to General Zettour’s strategy. All the enemy’s forces had moved up to the secondary front line defenses and were maintaining a defensive posture.

This sudden change to the battlefield was an enormous risk. Creta was confident that once their artillery started destroying the Amestrian town of Providence, the State would either call for peace, make suicidal charges in the desperate hope of changing the situation, or mobilize and give all its neighbors the justification to do the same. Every one of those options would be Creta’s victory in the campaign and now it was only a matter of time.

However, the risk had a potentially massive payoff. The new lines extended the Creta’s logistics to the breaking point and made it a serious weakness. Zettour’s plan was to maximize the 203^rd Battalion’s potential in the smallest possible time. As a Company-sized element, the 203^rd had massive potential as highly mobile raiders which could strike in the heart of the enemy supplies and destroy its capacity to fight. It could even do so in just a single month.

It was a plan that some might characterize as “daring”, but Tanya saw as “desperate”.

‘Damn you, General Zettour! It must be nice to sit in a comfy chair in the rear and draw up some radical plan, but someone has to actually pull it off! One month is a ridiculous time-frame to carry out any results, nevermind the sorts of results he needs to keep his front from disintegrating. The Battalion hasn’t even seen combat! Due to the distances, most of the Battalion will be fighting tiny, far-flung, under-equipped depots. That leaves only a single Platoon to face off against the heart of the enemy rear-line in Millersburg! My Platoon!’

Tanya had to lead that Platoon. While many of the soldiers in her Battalion had more field experience, she was the State Alchemist. She was the one who knew the Operation Orb best. She was the one with Staff Officer training and only she had almost a century of foreknowledge at her disposal. If she left it to someone else and the plan failed, not only would a large number of her meat-shields perish and her reputation would be ruined, but the Western Front would collapse and Amestris could find herself in the epicenter of a World War with her perfectly positioned as the first to a new, far more nightmarish front.

‘But why?! Why does it have to be me? It is their fault! They want the 13 Orbs and 21 soldiers of 1^st Platoon to stand against the combined might of potentially two Cretan Divisions?! Over 10,000 infantry, cavalry, tanks, artillery and more! Deflect is good, but it isn’t perfect! It only lasts less than an hour of heavy use. If we get surrounded and our equipment is destroyed, we would die in a fighting retreat through kilometers of hostile forces. Like a zombie survival game, we would be stuck wading through thousands of bodies before being exhausted and “consumed” by the horde.’

“Major? Is something wrong?”

Tanya snapped out of her thoughts to see 2^nd Lieutenant Viktoriya Serebryakova looking down at her with a concerned expression.

The Major waved her concern away and took a deep breath. She brought herself back to reality and considered her circumstances again. It would not do her any good to waste time thinking about the unfairness of reality. She long knew that the universe did not play favorites. Instead, she focused on the current plan.

Her 1^st Platoon had made it to the outskirts of the former Cretan town of Millersburg with a few hours remaining until sunrise. Their two large trucks and six smaller armored cars parked by a small copse of trees. The 12 Enlisted men busied themselves camouflaging the trucks while the 7 NCOs organized and cataloged the equipment they would be using for the first stages of their mission in a few hours.

By now, the 2^nd , 3^rd and 4^th Platoons would be making strikes on the enemy’s forward depots and causing mass confusion. The reason for a majority of her Battalion being dedicated to this was that these platoons had the most work to do. They had over 200 engineers and tons of explosives with them to destroy the kilometers of light rail and vehicles that had been used to ferry the equipment to the front lines. When there work was complete, the 200,000 soldiers of the main armies would be completely cut off from supplies and would be forced into a costly retreat.

Normally, these attacks would have prompted a powerful response from the mobile elements of the 14^th Cretan Cavalry Brigade stationed in Millersburg , but they would be too busy facing a surprise attack from her 1^st Platoon.

With its proximity to the front lines, its ample railroads, and its history as a mining town, Millersburg made for the perfect logistics hub. Kilometers of warehouses were stuffed with food, medicine, ammunition and fuel destined for the front lines. This was more true now than ever with the recent offensive. Unlike the forward bases, this was heavily fortified with not only the 14^th Brigade, but also the 8^th Infantry Brigade just a few hours away in the City of Constantine.

Tanya looked to see the Lieutenant was still looking worried and put a strained smile. She turned to the recently christened “adjutant”. The woman was the only pick she could consider. since she was the least warmongering of the officers.

“Lieutenant Serebryakova, there is no need for concern. I suppose you could say that I have been thinking deeply about the mission.”

The Lieutenant frowned.

“I hope that this isn’t another case of you staying up late again.”

The Major sighed. With the stress of the current situation, she had let slip a few bad habits from her University days that the new Adjutant was strict in addressing. Had their rapport evolved more naturally, Tanya could have proven herself a reliable superior to the bright-eyed woman. As it stood, her adjutant mothered her excessively, no doubt because of Tanya’s child-like appearance. It would no doubt take months – if ever – to recover their shattered workplace relationship.

She shook her head and internally groaned. She just realized that asking for coffee now would be a bad idea.

“No, I had a full 8 hours rest. Instead, please tell the men there will be an informal meeting in an hour before the mission starts.”

Her adjutant nodded her head and went off.

An hour passed and the pre-mission preparations had been complete.

The 1^st Platoon stood before her and her adjutant stood next to her. They all wore jet-black uniforms complete with balaclavas and shrapnel-resistant vests bristling with Stielhandgranates and 8mm ammo on bandoliers. They each wielded heavy, Bergmann MG15 Light Machine Guns with a water-cooling jacket, Lugers, and Model 88 commission rifles for using their explosive silver bullets. Their backpacks were piled into the armored cars that in turn were bristling with Panzerfaust, high explosives, and extra fuel in cans strapped to the sides. Rather than looking ready for war, they all looked ready to take on the world.

‘They’d better be ready. There is no turning back now. Not for us, and not for Amestris…’

Tanya coughed into her fist to grab their attention before her thoughts drifted again in a negative direction.

“The mission is clear and with the complete surprise of our assault, the parameters of each of your tasks has not changed. Our latest intelligence on the city is over 2 months old and so we will be performing reconnaissance-in-force. We have six armored cars and two truckloads of munitions and fuel, but that is not nearly enough to destroy a city. Thankfully, our comrades in Creta have generously filled the city to the brim with explosives. Creta believes that these should be best used killing our allies fighting desperately on the front lines. I can think of a few better uses for them.”

The quip got her platoon softly chuckling and Tanya figured that was as good as she was going to get.

“Alright, you have your orders. The operation today will take two hours before we will fall back for the day. Any questions?”

Sergeant Hoffmann stood forward and gave her a crisp salute.

“Major! Is there any reason not to completely destroy them on the 1^st day? A brigade does not seem like much of a threat.”

She looked discretely at the others, but their expressions did not lead Tanya to think that they were as shocked or frustrated as Tanya felt.

‘Are you crazy?! A Brigade is 5000 soldiers you damn warmonger! Do these guys really think they are invincible? Of course the Orb is powerful and we are using it for the first time, but I’m not going to risk my life needlessly! Now, for an excuse…’

With a sigh, she responded.

“You have not fought in urban warfare; it’s no picnic. The reason for the two hour window is because I expect you to group up and ration a strong Deflect between yourselves at all times. You never know when an enemy could be hiding just behind a door or a balcony. In theory, we have all the time we need to destroy this town, but the situation can change at any moment. If we can hold out and do reasonable damage, we can wait for reinforcements from the other Platoons and make a final push to destroy their logistics in the area before the enemy finds a solution for us. The enemy might even have some new weapon they have not used yet. We must stay vigilant.”

She looked at them sternly.

“There is a good chance that even with all my preparations, we all could die. I hope you keep this in mind and take this one small step at a time. Is that understood?”

They seemed to smile at that and saluted their approval. Tanya fought to keep a scowl off of her face, but it helped that her adjutant next to her still had a serious expression on her face.

‘Only this batch of nutcases could smile like this in the face of their own deaths! At least my adjutant is not like them. Hopefully, I can trust her to remain rational and level-headed.’

---

October 16^th, 1908, Eastern Suburbs, Millersburg, Creta Occupied Area – Visha POV

The 203^rd Battalion’s 1^st Platoon rode in a column of 6 armored cars through the scenic countryside and quaint farmland. The lightly suburban area made up the eastern approach to Millersburg. Dawn was just breaking and some of the Creta civilians – former Amestrian civilians – were making their way out into the fields to begin a hard day of labor or walking along the side of the road towards the town. Visha could only wonder if their blasé attitude towards the back-and-forth occupation of their city was a learned behavior, or if all civilians thought like that. She thought back to her time in Drachma and felt that the civilians were a lot more vocal with their opinions for one side or another. In hindsight, the populace leaving things to the military was for the best.

Due to their preparations, the people watching them drive by would not realize they were an Amestrian strike force ready to destroy their beloved town. While their black uniforms and masked faces would normally cause concern, their vehicles and clothing lacked any of the tell-tale markings of Amestris. This seemed pointless since only Amestris could have ordered their mission and only soldiers carried it out. Instead, their clothing was to avoid tracing back their activity to the 203^rd Battalion and the secret Operation Orb project. Their alchemy weapon was – in Tanya’s own words – “War-changing and unmatched… so long as it remains a secret”.

Their commander did not need to say the hidden other meaning of her orders. By rule of law, they were “non-uniformed soldiers” and could not expect to be treated as prisoners of war if captured. Their mission would either succeed, or they would have to die and destroy their Orbs instead of capture. That Tanya went along with this was testament to how fearless and brave she was in the face of adversity.

Despite the sobering thought on the nature of their mission, Visha could not keep a small smile off her face. Being in the rear-most vehicle, she could not help but stare longingly at her commander’s car leading the way towards their objective.

‘Of course Tanya would lead the convoy, just like she‘s the one leading the most dangerous mission personally. Any other commander would stay behind to coordinate or prioritize the mission over the small chance that any of us could get wounded, but Tanya always finds a way to plan for everything and worries incessantly about us. It just isn’t right! We have to do our best to show how capable we are if it means our Ray of Hope can worry even just a little bit less.’

“I know it isn’t really for me to say, but we are all with you on this Lieutenant.”

She looked away from the Major’s car to see that the 3 other soldiers with her were all smiling in her direction. She looked to the speaker – Sergeant Hoffmann – and chuckled.

“Well, I suppose I have been pretty obvious, but there’s just so much work we need to do to prove that the Major can trust us! You should have seen the amount of planning she’d done for this mission. Meetings with the General Staff in the morning, studying in the library without a lunch, and working until midnight in the map room budgeting the travel time for every small bit of traveling. She was working 12 hours a day with only 6 hours of sleep… on a good day. Officers don’t do that for just anyone, you know?”

Through their balaclavas, Visha could see the other soldiers smile. Sergeant Hoffman rubbed his head and groaned.

“I don’t know what I did in my former life to deserve this, but I don’t feel worthy of it. I just wish there was some way we could prove to her that we are capable of doing more than just the minimum. At least she has opened up a little bit to you Adjutant. I hope you know that the rest of the Battalion is downright envious of your ability to worm your way into the Major’s heart.”

Visha blushed.

“You make it sound like a bad thing.”

He shook his head quickly.

“Oh no, no. You have me all wrong. It’s only thanks to you that she’s sleeping normally and drinking decent quality food and coffee. Honestly, we are just frustrated that we couldn’t find some way to help her ourselves!”

The others nodded along and Visha herself could not help but partially agree. While she was sure the Major could have fixed these problems herself, it was also true that she jointly worked with her to enforce a more reasonable schedule. It took a lot of argument, but they found one that they could both agree with. Unsurprising, the efficient and capable Major followed the routine to the minute, and Visha had already noticed an improvement in her mood and her skin was already starting to have a more rosy tone compared to the abnormal porcelain complexion that had been clearly caused by a lack of nutrients.

‘It sounds strange to say this about a child, but I was really worrying that Tanya would have wrinkles before she even had the chance to drink beer!’

Just like the Major’s daily routine, the time-keeping of their current mission was also going perfectly on schedule. At exactly 7:15am, the Major came on the radio, interrupting their discussion.

“Pixie, this is Pixie Actual. We are on final approach to Fortress for Act 1. All teams sound off readiness.”

Everyone chuckled softly. It had taken a lot of work for the Platoon to convince the Major on the use of “Pixie” as their Platoon call-sign, but it was one of the rare times the Battalion came together to refuse the Major. Visha was quick to respond along with the others with her team designation.

“Pixie-6 ready.”

As she responded, the six cars approached a security checkpoint leading into the logistics center of the city. A simple wooden log held in place by two posts blocked the road to normal traffic. A single Cretan Infantryman stood guard in a nearby wooden cabin. Calmly, the guard made his way towards the middle of the road and casually waved in their direction.

Rather than slowing down, however, the lead vehicle accelerated. The guard at the station dived out of the way just in time for the armored car to smash into the log behind him. The heavy steel vehicle tore the log off its posts and it tumbled into a nearby building. As the guard made to stand up, he was shot and killed by someone in another car.

Without a word, the first shots of their platoon in a real engagement had sounded off. Sergeant Hoffmann chuckled and nodded to Visha.

“Well, I guess it’s time to get serious.”

Without speaking, she activated her Deflect and noticed from the faint glow of Orbs in the vehicles in front of her that the other teams had done the same. The Major’s plan was that from the first shot until the last one, one person in each car was to have Deflect on at all times unless they were all fully behind strong cover.

They were silent as the six cars raced down the main thoroughfare of the town. Their horns blared through the morning din, signaling for the largely agrarian traffic of horses and civilians walking down the narrow street to move out of the way. In most cases, the civilians heard the commotion and got out of the way in time, but in at least one instance, a car smashed head-on into a civilian. The person made audible and visible thumps as the car ran them over and she heard several screams from people nearby.

Visha could not help but wince in spite of the hypocrisy and could see through the balaclavas of her comrades in the car that they had similar expressions. It would no doubt be the first of many civilian casualties she would see, but she would not do them the disservice of ignoring her own part in ending an innocent life.

‘We’re doing this to end the war, but I can only imagine what the Major must feel like. If there’s anyone who can empathize with someone, it’s her.’

Soon they found themselves at the Millersburg Central Station. Despite the small size of the town, the station was massive and had – at least, according to the Major – historically been a major center for copper, shipping the ore from the nearby mountains all around the world. A rail yard dominated the far side of the station. On their side, a large plaza filled with crates, trucks and horses dominated the approach. As could be expected during wartime, the plaza was brimming with workers and soldiers alike moving crates and organizing the string of carts and trucks lining up even at this early hour of the morning.

Without a word, the six cars parked in a row, blocking anyone from using the road they came on. Five of the six teams disembarked and rushed their way towards the station. The 18 black figures brimming with modern weapons did remain unnoticed for long.

“Halt!”

“What are you doing?! Stop!”

“Get out of here! Now!”

Shouts from the soldiers on both sides intermingled as the civilians seemed either too stunned or ignorant of the current danger. This quickly resolved itself when their Platoon opened fire on a few isolated guards or shot their weapons into the air. In a panic, the citizens began running away towards the various side streets and houses along the edge of the station plaza. With the plaza thinning out, Visha too swung the heavy MG15 LMG from her back and hit the deck. Engaging the foldable bipod at the end of the water-cooled barrel, she laid into the guards with accurate fire.

A few of the soldiers were quick and smart enough to see the danger and dove into cover.

They did not last much longer. With a yell, the Major rushed in and others from her 1 ^st Squad did the same. In moments, they ruthlessly dispatched the enemy with a bayonet in close quarters. Visha could not help but feel a little inadequate.

‘Damn it, if our Team was just a little closer, we could have taken care of them without the Major dirtying her hands!’

The plaza was silent. The twenty-or-so guards at station had been killed and the remaining workers had all fled. The Major let out a shrill noise from a whistle on her neck which signaled their transition into the next phase. They all regrouped at the entrance as the Major gave out their orders.

“I want the Enlisted to spread out and secure the Station and the cars. Do not be shy in keeping any threats far away. I do not want Creta to get an estimate on our true numbers just yet. The NCOs of even teams will coordinate that. The remaining NCOs and my Adjutant will come with me and secure the objective. Remember, we want a map and any manifests that give an account of what’s in these warehouses. Understood?”

“”Yes Major!””

They rushed into the station only for Visha to immediately encounter a significant problem. Every room she investigated had cabinets filled with papers. Unlike Amestris, it seemed that Creta was not so diligent in minimizing or organizing the amount of paperwork it created. It could take days for her to rummage through all this.

Desperately, she tried simply opening every room she could. Rather than thoroughly explore every nook-and-cranny, she just looked for some convenient solution to her problem: a map hanging on a wall or a ledger labeled “Directory of every warehouse”. Anything.

Instead of that, she found the next best thing. A female telegraph operator – in the uniform of the Creta military – was wearing a set of headphones and listening to her telegraph with a complete lack of awareness. She seemed intensely focused on the small paper tape being printed from the receiver and was writing something onto a pad of paper.

‘Is she just completely unaware? We were not quiet outside and a well-armed stranger just barged into your room…’

Visha took advantage of the situation by taking out her Luger and destroying the telegraph before the woman had a chance to send any potentially damaging information. In a rush, she ran into the woman and they both toppled to the floor. The Creta soldier looked up to her with visible fear.

“Who are you and-?!”

Visha cut off the soldier by roughly pushing one arm against her neck and choking her. Using her other hand, her jammed her Luger into the woman’s temple.

“You are going to lead me to what I want right now… is that understood?”

Visha was surprised a the lack of guilt for both this and her first kills outside the station. She had been dreading for months if she would choke up, if she would succumb to a lack of ‘male ruthlessness’ she had been criticized of lacking in the Academy. She had been worried that she might not have the guts to be an officer and fail the unit. Instead, she confidently felt she could proclaim herself to be a soldier. If anything, she felt a swell of pride.

‘I’m so glad that I was finally able to do some of the dirty work for once. I hope that the Major will learn to trust us with more of the hard work going forwards. I don’t want her thinking she should leave us behind!’

The smile Visha was showing made the woman underneath her cry in fear.

---

A little negotiation and Visha had what she was after. A few minutes later, she grabbed the pile of maps and documents and rushed to tell the Major the good news.

She waited for the Platoon to regroup with the Major. She made sure to tell everyone the whole incident in detail. She was just so happy to finally be over her civilian hesitation. The Major heard her explanation with an unchanging smile that had Visha feeling both vindicated and proud. She noticed Sergeant Hoffmann gave her a big ‘thumbs up’ which caused her to look away in embarrassment.

The Major took the documents and nodded.

“Excellent work in… gathering this information Lieutenant. You really showed a ruthlessness that I was not expecting. Well, we now have everything we need. Everyone take copies and we will coordinate as planned. Everyone clear on their objectives?”

They all saluted in unison.

““Yes, Major!””

Chapter Text

October 17^th, 1908, Western Warehouse District, Millersburg, Creta Occupied Area – Tanya POV

‘Just what the hell is Creta thinking?’

The rest of previous day – just like the entire operation – went exactly as planned. There were some minor resistance from a few pockets of soldiers from the Cavalry Brigade, but otherwise, the 1^st Platoon of the 203^rd Battalion had acted flawlessly in dispatching their tasks without issue. Dozens of warehouses had been destroyed and they had returned back to their small outpost outside the city with more explosives and ammunition than they had come in with.

As they headed back into the city the following morning, Tanya was disturbed by what she found.

Their six armored cars made way through the narrow side streets of the city until they found themselves face-to-face with 30 soldiers, 10 of which were on horseback. The soldiers were “lucky” enough to fire first, but their shots harmlessly deflected off their cars or shields. They were then quickly dispatched. It was just the latest in a long string of “engagements” that could only be classified as one-sided slaughter. Tanya was shocked at the sheer incompetence of her opponent.

‘Teams of enemy soldiers just waltzed into their town and laid waste to hundreds of tons of supply. They should know by now that we cannot be taken out by small arms fire, and yet they are still spread out thin across the city! Even without using the Operation Orb, these tactics would be trivial to defeat! We are a heavily mechanized force. At best, they are whittling down our number with attrition that greatly favors our side. It is like they are begging us to destroy their brigade in detail. Do they not care about their soldiers’ lives at all?’

She was only too eager to grant their suicidal request. Again and again, the platoon would come across a small pocket of soldiers and again they would lay waste to them. By this point, Tanya had lost count at 600 killed. If her own life was not at stake, Tanya might have been disgusted by the one-sided slaughter she was participating in.

Nevertheless, she had a job to do and so the 21 soldiers pulled up to a small munitions depot and began what had become almost second-nature to them.

“It’s them!”

“Ahh!”

“Fall back! Retreat!”

Cries rang out at the sight of their convoy. The group of one-hundred-or-so civilians, military police, mounted infantry, and infantry from the 14^th Cavalry Brigade fled. Despite the inferior numbers of her forces, it seemed that the common soldiers were wiser than their commanders and knew a lost cause when they saw it.

Not that it helped them. The platoon killed the guards with interlocking fields of fire from their machine guns, being careful to let workers flee and cause confusion to the surrounding area. A few of the infantry were able to successfully merge in with the crowd of civilians, but the mounted troops were easy pickings. Without that mobility, the infantry would not pose a concern for the rest of the operation.

Now with unfettered access to the warehouse, everyone formed a line between their cars and the inside of the warehouse. They passed along spare ammunition, fuel and explosives into their vehicles. Once their own stocks were replenished, they requisitioning 15 trucks from a nearby motor pool and loaded them with a deadly combination of explosives. Every truck was filled with over 1000kg of TNT, gunpowder or sticks of dynamite and their gas tanks filled to the brim. The trucks sagged under the weight and the drive train was pushed to its limit, but there was nothing to worry about. The trucks were not expected to last long.

The 2 or 3 former occupants of each armored car drove a truck behind their car in a column and made their way to the largest food or medical warehouses marked on their maps in decreasing priority. By now, the warehouses were abandoned and so they no longer needed to dispatch any guards.

‘Perhaps the town’s citizens thought that last night was a one-off event? Well, they know the truth now. Hopefully this means our job will only continue to get easier.’

Not wanting to waste any of their precious 2 hour window, they blew the lock off the cargo door and carefully drove a truck in the center of the supplies. The driver of the truck rushed out and another soldier loaded the long tube of a Cretan “Feuillette” rifle grenade into a rifle and leveled it onto the truck. With the former driver at a safe distance, the grenade was shot and detonated on the trucks cargo.

The whole area was treated to the massive bang and shockwave far larger than any of their previous jobs. Tanya realized that the supplies of this particular warehouse was largely storage of flour and wheat. The resulting thermobaric explosion was deafening and a fireball blasted the roof off the building, sending fire and twisted metal over 100 meters into the air.

“Tamaya!”

Tanya could not help but cry out with an instinct deep in her soul. At the Major’s Japanese exclamation, the others of the Platoon looked at her in confusion.

Her Adjutant tilted her head.

“Tama?”

Feeling a blush creeping down her face, the Major coughed awkwardly into her hand.

“Ahem, just an interjection… Anyway, as I had stated earlier, we owe the Cretan Military much for the success of our mission so far. It seems like there should be more than enough supplies in the city to completely destroy their remaining warehouses by tomorrow. Why don’t we-”

She was interrupted by a loud noise. She turned to see a small stone wall in the alleyway between two of the nearby buildings crumble as a Cretan B1 tank rolled out into view. The massive but slow moving vehicle ground down the packed earth road with its tracks, leaving deep grooves in its wake. It clearly had difficulty navigating through the narrow streets as it moved back and forth trying to make the 90 degree turn towards them. Before it began that turn, however, its turret was far faster in aiming in their direction. It still left her and her Platoon plenty of time to defend against its 47mm gun, not that they needed it. With the poor visibility out of its gun-sight and no all-round vision from a commander cupola, it missed them all entirely, detonating on a building down the street. Behind it, a few infantry used the tank as cover and fired at them with rifles.

She had mixed feelings and almost wanted to just let them realize the futility of this fight and run away like the others.

‘I can’t help but feel pity for the crew and soldiers of a country with incompetent leadership, but they would have no qualms killing me otherwise. If they haven’t learned to run away by now, well…’

Not wanting to waste time or precious silver ammunition, Tanya used a combination of Empower and Deflect to rush and leap up to the top of the tank and avoid the incoming rifle fire. Taking a Luger, she killed a tank crewman stupid enough to open the tank’s hatch for a better view of the battlefield or to operate the 7.5mm machine gun mounted on the cupola. With the hatch open, she took two Stielhandgranates from a bandolier, primed them, dropped them into the tank and into the waiting arms of a stunned tank commander. She closed the hatch and held it down to prevent having to waste any Deflection effort dealing with the fragmentation.

In the time it took to complete this, the rest of her Platoon had returned fire and were mopping up the remaining infantry. She noticed that her Adjutant was especially brutal, running into melee and eviscerating one soldier with a bayonet.

‘I hope she didn’t learn that little maneuver from me. Yesterday, I only brought myself into close-quarters combat with the enemy while they were behind cover and there were civilians nearby. Otherwise, using explosives is the logical conclusion. Diving into close combat – where Deflect does not work well – is a significant risk… but she seems to be enjoying herself…’

Tanya could not help but sigh as the one officer she thought was not a warmonger succumb to the illness.

‘Maybe considering her for the Adjutant role was a bit premature…’

She finally felt the thuds from the grenades in the tank below and could hear the popping of secondary explosions. Not wanting to risk getting caught draining her Deflect reserves, she performed an alchemically-assisted leap and landed harmlessly among her comrades. Noticing the slowly encroaching spread of flames from the warehouse, she did not want to risk smoke inhalation or worse, that their trucks filled with explosives would catch fire.

She turned to her Platoon.

“Anyway, as I was saying, I think there should be more than enough supplies to finish this job tomorrow. We might have been facing light resistance until now, but remember that the enemy still has over 8,000 soldiers remaining and they will be getting desperate. Don’t let your guards down for anything.”

““Yes Major!””

---

October 17^th, 1908, 14^th Cavalry Brigade Headquarters, Millersburg Outskirts, Creta Occupied Area – Herschel POV

In a large farmhouse just outside the town of Millersburg, a Brigadier General and his Staff Officers were looking at a map with building frustration or panic. On the map, a number of pieces shaped like horseman or infantry were organized. Each piece detailed the 300 positions of every platoon or company detachment in the city. In real-time, a dozen nearby radio operators relayed updated status and positions to a Lieutenant who shuffled the pieces on the map.

The Brigadier General ground his teeth in rage and slammed a fist on his desk causing a few of the map pieces to topple over. An aide went and re-ordered them.

“What do you mean destroyed?! It’s just a couple well-armed soldiers. How the hell did we lose a tank to them now?!”

A nearby Major was quick to leap up in response.

“Sir, I can tell you that those troops were some of the best we had. The Rouge Rifles Battalion only chose the best for our tank crews. They must be better armed than expected-”

The General glared at the man.

“Better armed?! I do not want to hear another word. Nevermind the enemy, not even our own army has infantry weapons capable of piercing the armor of a B1. Damn it, the 8^th Infantry will be arriving today, and I will not tolerate sending them into this situation until we have at least got some of the enemy behind bars! Here are the facts: they are highly mobile, they wield plenty of firepower, and they are immune to traditional encirclement doctrine. They are not held up by roadblocks, infantry in cover, or even tanks apparently. What exactly is so different about these “commandos”? I do not want to hear excuses, I want facts. How are they holding up to our aggression? What is there composition? I want answers people!”

While the situation seemed like a nightmare for the General and the prospects of the greater war in general, for Colonel Herschel, things could not have looked better. Any loss of face for the military was his gain. His command had been shelved for the duration of the conflict in favor of these “conventional” forces and now the military was feeling the consequences of that mistake.

‘The spineless Federation Council has seen fit to ignore every new breakthrough in Alchemy that does not fit into their preconceived notions of reality. Just more proof that they’re misguided fools. Moreover, their calls to avoid “escalation” in the Amestrian Conflict is asinine. The Amestrians already introduced new weapons: gas, shotguns, flamethrowers. How is my project any different? The Council even refuses to call this “Border Conflict” a war despite the front employing over half the standing army. Of course, those cretins are great at crafting flowery speeches to manipulate the ignorant masses, but when the time arrives to show strength and resolve on their committed path, they falter like the cowards they are. What does it matter that Amestris might mobilize? So what if the situation could get worse? If they cannot capitalize on every advantage, how is their vaunted Federation to prosper?’

Tightening a valve on his uniform, the chemical compound being fed into his mask dried up. Immediately, every nerve of the torn skin of his face seemed to melt with searing pain. A few decades ago, such a sensation was akin to hell, leaving him crippled. He left that failure behind long ago, burying it and its name behind him when he first received his mask. Now the pain helped him focus, bringing the minute and mundane information flowing into his senses pierce him with its clarity. He long stopped taking the prescribed opioids that dulled his mind and relished in the sensation of the here-and-now. He had a goal and he would go through any pain to achieve it.

His heart beat faster with anticipation. Whether Creta was willing or not, it would do exactly as he needed it to achieve his aims.

Stepping off the wall he stood at, he moved to the table. His large frame caused the nearby officers to quickly move out of his way.

‘None of them deserve their positions… but for once, their wretched personalities are exactly what I need.’

The Brigadier General looked up and failed to hide a small trace of fear from appearing on his face.

“C-Colonel Herschel. This is not the time for your games. That y-you are even in this room is only thanks only to your rank, but this is not your fight! Just leave.”

The Colonel towered over the General and looked down at the man in disdain. His mask did not perfectly hide his expression, but he no longer bothered temper them, letting his hatred come through with his eyes. He reveled in the fact that his face unnerved the inferiors and fools that festered in his wake.

His voice distorted as it reverberated out from the confines of his mask.

“General. You are facing a new Amestrian weapon. Your Brigade – nor the 8^th – will be able to handle them. You will lose, your men will die, and this front will collapse. As the man in charge of protecting the vital resources of the offensive, your failure will be solely your responsibility.”

He had no proof of these claims; from the limited investigation he conducted personally, he could gain little in the way of confirmation. His conjectures were not unfounded though. The coincidence of the abilities of these “commandos” and the “devil” he had heard appearing on the front lines a few months earlier was too good to be true. For all of them to have identical abilities meant that they could not be State Alchemists; even apprentices would stray from their masters. That could only mean that Amestris has some method of producing alchemists with high combat potential.

He had been waiting for this moment: the moment when the conventional military would fail and alchemy would once again rule over the battlefield as it had for most of human history. That the enemy got there first was of no consequence. The time of “conventional” warfare was over.

His words caused the General to flush.

“Bastard! If you were under my command, I would have you dismissed just for the sheer lack of respect! Tell me what do you know!”

Herschel did not respond immediately, instead he activated his transmutation circle on his hand. With a spark, a small “horse” piece from the map flew into his hands as if magnetized. He waved it in front of the General before crushing the metal object into scrap.

“I have heard of an Amestrian soldier wade through artillery and machine guns and massacre 100 men single-handedly. Your brigade is but chaff before wheat; chaff waiting to be culled by a reaper. You do not have the power, but my command does. Give me the order not to interfere and I will leave this room and the town of Millersburg to its fate, but know that I will be in the front row at your court-martial.”

The General looked ready to punch him, and Herschel was hopeful the man would try. Regrettably – but not unexpectedly – the man lost his nerve and fell into a chair in a heap. Rubbing a hand over his face, he looked up at the Colonel.

“I- I will have your words in writing. You will end this assault on Millersburg at once, you hear me? If you or your pets do so much as harm a hair on a civilian’s head or fail to get rid of them, I will have you hang you hear?!”

The Colonel did not bother to respond. Instead he walked away in silence, paying no mind to an aide who ran into him and fell over. With a sweep of his hand, he opened the door and his cape billowed behind him.

‘I will catch you “Devil of the East”. I will know of your secrets and – with your support or your corpse – Creta will have to face an undeniable reality. That my way is the only way forward.’

---

October 18^th, 1908, Eastern Warehouse District, Millersburg, Creta Occupied Area – Tanya POV

The six armored cars of the 203 ^rd Battalion’s 1 ^st Platoon drove quickly through the main streets of Millersburg. By now, the town had been largely evacuated and even firefighting teams had given up trying to put out the numerous fires raging throughout the city. Unlike the past two days, however, the city was completely silent. There were no birds, no voices of fleeing civilians, but also no soldiers, no tanks, no horses and no guns. The city was dead.

“I don’t know if I like this, Major.”

According to her training, Tanya should berate a soldier for spreading poor morale, but she held back. She had a few misgivings of her own and – for better or worse – she knew her Battalion would not be affected by something as trite as bad feelings.

‘I don’t know how, but my luck’s run out. Everything has been working too well and the enemy must have found some new strategy. I should have played it safe and fallen back to regroup with the rest of the Battalion. We could have then attacked the city a few days from now with full force. Instead, I got caught up in the other soldiers’ feelings of invincibility and wagered that pushing our element of surprise a 3^rd day in a row was better.’

She got on the radio.

“Pixie, this is Pixie-Actual. The Creta military has changed tactics. It is not inconceivable that their losses yesterday has made them realize their folly and they pulled out, but a wish to preserve their forces does not change the fact that they cannot afford to just let us go free. The entire conflict is resting on their actions. Any ideas?”

She heard Lieutenant Serebryakova come on the radio to respond.

“Pixie-6 Actual to Pixie-Actual, are you thinking that they might have received some new orders from the Federation?”

Tanya shook her head, but realized that no one on the radio would see.

“No, or rather it must be more than that. I suspect that they may have uncovered one of our weaknesses. It’s too late to pull back now, but there are ways we can prepare. Pixie-4, 5, and 6 will continue with the plan as expected, but Pixie-1, 2, and 3 will set up a perimeter at every stop. The extra time needed will be worth it. Whatever they have planned, I will not allow this Platoon to be caught off-guard. Understood?”

All the teams sounded off.

““Yes, Major.””

The cars quickly approached one of the three remaining munition’s warehouse that they had left untouched. All other munitions warehouses were destroyed using explosives on their way out yesterday. These remaining ones were all too small to in resupply the entire front for more than a few minutes, but the buildings contained just enough of what they would need to finish off their work in the city.

As Lieutenant Serebryakova and half of the Platoon got to work inside the warehouse loading supplies, Tanya made good on her orders and the remaining Operators spread out into the nearby buildings to get a full 360 degree view, ensuring that they were always at least three other people in view at all times.

Or that was the idea. Tragically, one of the soldiers in her line of sight went around a corner of an alleyway momentarily and let out a gut-wrenching scream. Tanya rushed in only to find a horrifying sight. Her soldier was bisected from head-to-toe by a large wolf-like creature. It was covered in thick grey and black fur and had quarter-meter-long talons. Blood and viscera from its victim covered it and the nearby walls in gore. It looked at her with a vicious, predatory gaze that made her instinctively shiver.

She did the first things she could think of and fell back to her training.

“Contact!”

With that yell, she immediately opened fire with her MG 15, but only a few shots landed as the wolf leaped out of the alleyway and onto the roof of one of the buildings. Rushing to think of the implications, she focused on her survival.

‘If I want to live though this, I must rely on my meat-shields!’

She ran out of the alleyway and activated her radio.

“Pixie! We’re under attack! Pull back to the warehouse! Formation Omega!”

Formation Omega was the equivalent to “hold nothing back” that she could think of. Each Operator found one or more partners to work with. One soldier held a strong Deflect and fired at anything they could see with their MG 15 while the other unleashed salvos of Destroy rifle-fire at everything left standing. It was a last-ditch effort that would burn-out the Platoon in minutes, but it was better than death.

As more chimeras came down from the rooftops, it became quickly apparent that even holding nothing back was not going to be good enough. Explosions shook the nearby buildings and bullets rained down on every surface, but the wolves were too fast. Every ‘Destroy’ shot from their rifles were not accurate enough and the few rounds from the machine guns that impacted the flesh of their opponents appeared to do nothing. In moments, two more Operators were stabbed with the razor-sharp talons of the wolves and torn apart.

‘Damn it! Of all the things to encounter on our first mission…!’

Things had not been going their way, but Tanya was realizing a pattern emerging. Their bullets were ineffective, but the explosions were doing something. The missed shots from Destroy that landed nearby had caused a few of the Chimeras to noticeably slow down.

“They are susceptible to explosions! Get them in the effect of Destroy!”

With that one order, the battle finally began to turn their way. One, then two, then four; the Chimera casualties began to match their own. However, the enemy quickly adapted. No longer content to keep their distance and pick off stragglers like wolves, they now moved in for the kill. With their more direct charge, they were picked off more quickly, but a few still got passed their hailstorm of brass and silver.

Realizing that the line – and her support – would collapse if she did not do something. She grabbed one of the wolves by the neck and slammed it into the ground with Empower. The overwhelming strength tore at her ligaments and she felt pain shoot up her arms. Pushing past the pain for her own survival. She turned just in time to grab another wolf charging her. Her hands and the monster’s interlocked, but she could feel her arms straining to stop its talons from piercing into her.

She turned to her soldiers behind her.

“Finish him off!”

The soldiers did not need to be told twice and a Destroy round impacted the wolf center-mass. An explosion of gore showered over the Major, but Deflect prevented any of the high-velocity molten silver shards from wounding her. Wiping what little was needed to clear her face, she grabbed she turned to the remaining soldiers. With the short reprieve, she tried to assess and evaluate her knowledge of the enemy.

“Alright, the creatures are susceptible to Destroy. If they come at you, keep up a Deflect and Destroy your own position, we can handle the shrapnel but they-”

“Major!”

A soldier called out her name. She looked back to find an orange-haired wolf race towards her. She aimed her rifle, pulled the trigger, but it did not fire.

‘Did the blood jam it?!’

Throwing her guns away, she tried what she had worked twice before and grappled with the creature. It reached her and tried to swipe with its claws, but she luckily managed to dodge into a nearby pile of rubble. Looking up, she realized it was not just luck. One of her soldiers had pushed her out of the way. With a swipe from the creature, the man collapsed into the rubble as well. Crouching low, she used the opportunity her subordinate gave her to grab the monster at its waist and used Empower to fling it into a nearby wall. It gracefully landed on the wall and used the momentum to jump back at her. This time she was ready. She grabbed both of its hands in her own.

It growled and yelled as it tried to move its arms, but her gauntlets barely held on. She could feel the Empower and her iron gauntlets buckle under the pressure. One wrong move and not only would her arms be broken, but they would be sheered off at the elbow.

‘Gah! What is this thing made of?! The black one was bad enough, but this orange wolf is a whole other level! I’ve used these gauntlets to bend steel! How can it be pushing me back?! I won’t be able to take much more of this!”

The wolf tried to use its mouth to bite at her face but she ducked away. It growled with a male voice.

“You took everything from me! My name is Alphonso Bieri and I will kill you today, Devil!”

She stared at him in confusion, partially at the realization and partially because she had never heard that name before.

“I- I don’t even know who you are?”

With a scream, the monster finally overcame her gauntlets and Tanya could feel her hands getting crushed. Through the pain, she just barely recognized that she was toss to the ground a few meters away.

“Now!”

She barely recognized the voice of Lieutenant Serebryakova sounded out to one side and Tanya looked up to see the Orange-Haired Chimera had a number of large holes in itself. With a cough of blood, it collapsed to the ground and stopped moving. In her adrenaline-fueled mind, she could not help but retort.

‘Ha! Get up from that you son-of-a-bitch… wait, that might be literally true…’

Tanya would not be able to continue that train of thought as she focused on her Adjutant rushing to her side.

“Major! Are you alright?”

Tanya could not feel her hands without severe pain, but the adrenaline allowed her to sit up. Rashly, she thought that the lack of pain meant that she was fine and pointed to the soldier that was attacked moments earlier. She felt she owed it to the man for saving her life.

“I- I’ll live. Lieutenant! Save that man!”

She pointed her mangled hand to the position of the soldier who had pushed her out of the way earlier. The man was clearly dying with a large puddle of blood beneath him. Lieutenant Serebryakova looked up and rushed to the man.

“Sergeant Hoffmann!”

She cradled him just out of view of the Major, but she could hear what was being said. The man was unusually soft-spoken.

“Ha… sorry Visha. I got… got to help the M-Major a lot more than you did. H-hope you aren’t jealous.”

Tanya’s Adjutant shook her head.

“Damn it Hoffmann, this is no time for jokes. I-”

Tanya strained to hear anything else, but the pain in her hands now started to pierce through her adrenaline and so she struggled to hear anything at all. A few moments later, Viktoriya came back to her and confirmed her suspicions on the developing situation. The soldier was dead.

Tanya shook her head and bit back a yell of pain.

“We move out now. Grab the casualties and get out of here, we’ve overstayed our welcome already. It will be at least 24 hours before we will get serious medical attention and we are already burning precious seconds!”

““Roger!””

“And get me some morphine!”

It took a few moments, but her Adjutant grabbed her in a princess carry and laid her out in the back of one of the cars. Per standard field-medical procedure, Viktoriya took out a first-aid kit from underneath the seat and wrapped two tourniquets tightly around her wrists. Taking out a syrette of Morphine, her Adjutant unscrewed the glass vial and stabbed the metal tip into Tanya’s midsection. For a moment, the pain was almost as bad as her hands were feeling in the moment. For a second, Tanya thought of how primitive and massive the “syringes” were and of several ways she could think to improve them. The next instant, the pain was gone and she had very little to think about at all.

In short order, she felt the car move underneath her and race out of the city.

The Lieutenant looked more angry than Tanya had ever seen and clenched her fists.

“Major, are we going back for revenge? What those things did to our men…”

Tanya groaned, but not from any pain.

‘Damn y-ya blood- bloodthirsty soldiers… Ya saw a man r-ripped right in fronta ya and… and ya wanna go again? We havva go to desert place and kill religious terrorisms just l-like the old world. No needa add Werewolfies ta the menu.’

Of course, Tanya did not say any of that; she struggled to say anything at all. Instead she focused on staying alive, and that meant trying to calm her Adjutant down before she stupidly risked all their lives by not going back to their own lines and to a hospital.

“L-lieuti… Lu… Lilu… Visha. We will be back s-someday. Promise… need to… need to r-run now. We kick p-puppies another time…”

All at once, Visha’s anger evaporated. Tanya started to feel a fuzzy darkness begin to consume her thoughts as Visha looked down at her with a soft expression and smiled.

“Understood… Good night… Tanya”

Major Degurechaff went to sleep smiling, satisfied in the notion that she probably was not going to die that night.

---

October 18^th, 1908, Eastern Warehouse District, Millersburg, Creta Occupied Area – Herschel POV

From atop a nearby church tower, Colonel Herschel put down his binoculars with frustration. He could not see every detail of the battle, but he had seen enough to understand that there was plenty of questions needing answers. Going into the conflict, he had been confident of a complete victory. He had surprise, he had an ideal urban environment with plenty of cover, and he had bio-engineered chimeras specifically designed to fight in close-quarters. Based on everything he knew about the Amestrian weapon, it should have been a complete over-match. Even if the defensive capabilities of the adversary had no weakness, he was at least confident his Wolves could escape.

Something went wrong and he needed to find out what.

“Sir, uh what are we-”

His adjutant next to him – a bespectacled young officer by the name of Lieutenant Lon Talbot – began speaking, but the Colonel already turned to leave down the tower’s stairwell.

“Uh sir! Wait for me!”

The two of them rushed down the steps. The Colonel had hoped the trip would be done in silence, but Talbot had found some well of courage enough to speak his mind.

“What are we going to do now, sir? Should we go after them?”

Herschel growled under his mask causing the Adjutant to jump. He tolerated his assistant’s mousy demeanor since the man was at least somewhat competent with Alchemy and could compile the notes of the alchemists and scientists underneath him. The Colonel did not appreciate the Lieutenant’s lack of common sense.

“Don’t be an idiot. We already have reports of frontline depots being destroyed across the entire front. There are no doubt dozens or even hundreds of these super-soldiers. That they had so few attacking Millersburg is more a testament of their obvious capability and Amestrian arrogance than a critique of their numbers. Following after them will just result in the death of the remaining Chimeras.”

Lieutenant Talbot adjusted his glasses and fumbled through a few papers, showing surprising dexterity in navigating the tight stairway without looking where he was going.

“I knew the project was still in its early stages, but this result is rather telling. We have failed to-”

The Colonel activated the transmutation circle on his hand. Electricity shot all around them causing bits of the metal railing to melt and parts of the nearby masonry to pop and scatter bits of stone everywhere.

“Shut up.”

His adjutant finally kept his mouth shut as they finished walking to the bottom and out to a waiting car. Climbing in, the car’s driver starting moving towards the scene of the battle. The Colonel deactivated his mask, allowing a spike of pain to focus his senses. He turned to his assistant.

“This was no failure, this is not even a setback. It is now abundantly clear that Amestris has once again leaped ahead of Creta in Alchemic development, but that has only highlighted our importance even more. A report from me with photographic and documented evidence of the local military failures will have our Project showered with funds.”

As was always the case with the Lieutenant, despite being glared at by the Colonel’s massive form, he could not help but keep talking.

“But sir, the war… With the amount of damage we’ve taken, the front-”

Once again, the Colonel cut the man off.

“The front will collapse, yes. That is none of our concern. For Creta, this war has been a colossal waste of time and resources. As with their every action, the Council and its promises of glory and retribution were all talk. They will be ousted and their successors will come to me, begging for solutions. The Council can no longer deny reality. Our project, and others like it is the only future.”

The car stopped and the two got out to see the end-result of the vicious battle between the super-soldiers of both Amestris and himself. As far as the eye could see, building were either fully ruined on on the edge of collapse. Large craters and rubble filled the street and every surface was riddled with bullet-holes. Seeing the carnage, Colonel Herschel was no longer as surprised that eight of his Chimera were killed. Their partially or completely destroyed bodies were scattered around and with the amount of blood in the area, he had no doubt most of it belonged to his side than that of the Amestrian Commandos.

Regrettably, they had done an excellent job cleaning up after themselves. The bodies – and any potential clues about their power – were absent. They would be forced to glean an understanding from the corpses left.

A twitch of movement had Colonel Herschel spin around and prepare his alchemy for combat. However, his combat instincts in this case were unneeded. Instead, it appeared that his Orange-haired “Alpha” Wolf Chimera had survived. The Chimera was the result of the project’s newest serum. It killed most of the subjects it was administered to, but those that survived were far more capable and completely recovered from any ailments or injury they had sustained before the operation.

While its full combat potential had been untested until now, the fact that it was alive was proof that the procedural and economic risks of the Chimera’s creation was worth the cost. Despite the fact that the Colonel could see clear through several cavities in the Chimera’s midsection, the wounds were slowly healing. The wolf – seemingly ignorant to its ruined state – struggled to stand. It coughed copious amounts of blood and panting heavily as it tried to move forwards.

It let out a weak howl.

“Argh! D-Devil! Must kill…”

Herschel could now see the risk and could not tolerate it recovering further. It had clearly failed to defeat the Commandos under the most ideal circumstances. If he let the Alpha go now, its keen senses would catch up to them without issue, but it would find itself in the heart of the a group of enemies best-suited to killing it. The invaluable progress in the project that managed to survive would be lost.

He turned to the soldiers nearby.

“All of you! Quickly, restrain the Alpha!”

The soldiers looked hesitant, but the Colonel would not brook any disagreement and adjusted his posture to match that temperament. The soldiers realized that doing their job was better for their long-term health and saluted.

““Sir!””

They rushed to the wolf and tried to hold it down. The Alpha – even in its weakened state – was proving tough to completely restrain, but it was no longer moving forward anymore.

It growled.

“D-damn you! I- I will kill you Devil! I- I’ll…”

Finally, his assistant had managed to get around to the side of the Alpha and administered a large syringe filled with a faintly orange liquid into the Alpha. For a moment, it looked like the wolf was in pain and thrashed around a little, sending the two solders sprawling to the ground. However, a few moment passed and the thrashing ceased. The Orange-haired Chimera was completely still and asleep.

“Sedative is working successfully, Colonel.”

The Colonel wanted to smash the stupidly smug look Lieutenant Talbot had in stating the obvious, but he restrained himself. Instead he focused on the pain of his face and accepted that his Adjutant at least administered the sedative without him directly ordering it.

Small mercies.

Colonel Herschel turned and marched over to where a team of his alchemists and scientists were busy forensically investigating the scene. While some of the Project had managed to preserve itself and avoid him from suffering a minor setback, it did not change the fact that there was still much that needed answering.

“Now, I want someone to explain things clearly. How did our Chimeras die? They should have been highly resistant to any small arms including explosives. Their high speed was supposed to out-maneuver anything else.”

The Project Lead Alchemist Aalo Hiiumaa – a Drachman woman who shared his aspirations – was arms-deep into one of the wounds of a nearby Chimera. She pulled and arm out and appeared to inspect the blackish ooze with great intensity. She turned to him with a frown.

“I don’t understand it myself, sir. The wounds here are superficial yet… ah!”

In an instant, she once again stuck her arm in a wound, only this time she pulled out something metallic. The flake of gray metal turned the blackish gore of the chimera into a bright-red color more reminiscent of normal blood. The blood did not coagulate and oozed freely to the ground. The Alchemist seemed to pick up on the true nature of the substance at the same time as he did.

“Silver…”

The pain of his face flared as he felt a hot fury building inside of him. He instinctively activated the Transmutation Circle in his hand and lightning flew in every direction. He barely had enough thought to bite out a few words as he felt blood trickle from his face and out of his mask.

“How did they know?”

Lead Alchemist Hiiumaa was visibly frightened and stumbled through a puddle of blood, crawling away from him.

“I- sorry, sir, but I-”

Seeing the effect he was having, he quickly reigned himself in. Grabbing the valve on the back of his head, he twisted hard and felt soothing liquid pour over his face. He could feel steam emanate through his mask as he relaxed. Without the sharp focus, he could now step back and realize that the Wolf Chimera’s weakness to silver was always planned to be removed and that this breach of secrecy was something of a blessing in disguise.

He turned to his Project Lead and shook his head.

“Save it. It is clear we have a mole. This will require a thorough purge. We are in the dark about the enemy’s capabilities, and they know all of our own weaknesses. As bad as that is, it is better than the alternative. If the enemy had overwhelmed the Chimeras with pure firepower, it would bring the whole project into question. This will be fixed.”

A few more minutes passed before the source of the silver was found. A soldier ran up to him with what the Colonel recognized was a standard clip used in Amestrian 8mm rifles.

“Sir, I found this among the things left behind by the enemy. Apart from a few shell casings, there wasn’t much to find…”

The Colonel inspected the clip and was unsurprised to find that the typical faded-gray metal of the 8mm rimless round’s full-metal-jacket was instead far brighter. Apart from the bullet, however, the cartridge looked exactly the same as the reference material he had seen in the past.

“Silver bullets, but there is not nearly enough space for an explosion of that size… unless…”

Using his alchemy, he felt into the composition of the bullet and was shocked. The silver was not completely pure. Instead, it was alloyed with trace amounts of chromium – no doubt for handling being fired from a rifle – but also traces of gold and copper at a 20:1 and 10:1 ratio respectively. The conclusion was obvious to him.

“Alchemic silver. The metal has been specially purified to maximize its ability to be transmuted. They must have some method of exploding the bullet through transmutation. No matter the method, gold would be easier to manufacture. Unless the alchemist who designed this round just happened to have a large amount of silver on hand, or actually gave a damn about the risks of a failed transmutation in the hands of these commandos, this was undoubtedly designed specifically to counter our Chimeras.”

The Project Lead seemed relieved by the news. She let out a sigh and shook her head.

“I see… We never had a chance from the start. We should count ourselves lucky that we managed to take out even a few of the Commandos by surprise.”

The Colonel walked away, leaving the alchemist and her team to her work autopsying the corpses. He looked to the sun rising in the east and made out to grasp the orb in his hands.

“You might have escaped me this time, Devil of the East, but I am no longer held back. I will return with the full force of Creta.”

He would uncover the secrets of this new mysterious alchemy; something which produced alchemists like so much machinery. He looked down on the small signet ring on his left hand’s little finger, the black and gold symbol engraved on its face were highlighted and shined in the sun. It was the Ouroboros; specifically, it represented the winged serpent engraved in the great work De Lapide Philosophico from which his family was inspired to craft the alchemy he now bears on his skin. The Ouroboros was the symbol of Mercury: the first substance and the most important of his Order. It defined the foremost law: that before Wealth, Power, Morality, or anything else, Truth was the first matter; the prime substance from which all else derived.

The ring was his eternal reminder of it goal and his pledge. He clenched his fist, raising his ring to the sun. The faintly glowed and warmed with the energy from the Source.

“Your Truth will be revealed to me. It is only a matter of time.”

Chapter Text

November 14^th, 1908, Central Memorial Hospital, Central City, Amestris – Tanya POV

Tanya was bedridden for almost a month, and conscious for about half that time. Her hands had been shattered when her Empower failed: bones were splintered, muscles torn and ligaments broken. Had she been treated with treatment typical for the time period, she would likely still be staving off an infection with mediocre antibiotics and looking forwards to months of physical therapy with prosthetic hands. That was the logic of the time: when receiving a non-superficial wound, not immediately removing the limb was cutting-edge technology. There was a reason the automail industry was in such high demand.

However – by order of the Fürer – a doctor with a gold tooth brought about her full recovery. The man introduced himself simply as ‘a doctor’ and did not talk much otherwise. As such, she did not make much of him beyond his features: graying-brown hair, glasses, and his miraculous red-colored transmutation. The doctor’s biomedical alchemy seemed to fly in the face of all that she knew about the subject, but that only made her realize just how little was publicly available. Just like in her former world, there were numerous advances that went on behind the closed doors of the government or universities that would take years or decades to trickle out into the rest of the populace.

She could only be grateful that she was not completely abandoned after utterly failing her mission. She had touted the Orb to the Western General Staff as a means of creating effective special forces capable of handling any mission, yet when she was given a relatively simple job, her cautiousness nearly spoiled the whole thing. Had she been more aggressive in capitalizing on the surprise of the first day, they could have destroyed the whole town before the enemy mounted an effective response. Instead, she was lucky that even ¾ of the supplies were destroyed.

More than the mission, 5 men from her unit were dead and 6 more were wounded including herself. That was a casualty rate of 50% and a death toll of 25% of the Platoon she was entrusted with during the operation. To anyone with even a reasonable understanding of the Orb’s capabilities – or even just military losses – her results were at best delinquent and bordering on treasonous. That the war in the West was won regardless was thanks only to the herculean efforts of the rest of her unit and the over one-hundred-thousand soldiers on the front.

‘However, if the State is still willing to invest resources into the miraculous cure of my hands, I must still have some value left… right?’

She had mixed feelings about her failure. On one hand, she had always hoped to be dismissed from the army and as a State Alchemist. She wanted a safe and stable career as a alchemic researcher with upward mobility; failing to achieve the objectives on her first mission was one way to go about that. But on the other hand, blundering her way into a dishonorable discharge would forever stain her future prospects or even have her facing a court-martial. While unlikely, she had the very real possibility of facing a firing squad!

Her negative thoughts were halted by the opening of her hospital room door. 1 ^st Lieutenant Viktoriya Serebreykova walked in holding a tray of food. Her uniform now reflected her new rank and the ribbon rack on her chest displayed the six honors received from her service thus far. The rank and half the medals were by her recommendation; it was the least Tanya could do for one of the soldiers who saved her life.

“Good Afternoon Major. How are you feeling today?”

Tanya sighed.

“I’m fully recovered… but the doctors still insist that I get more bed rest. Other than that, it is good to see you again 1^st Lieutenant.”

Viktoriya frowned.

“Then you should probably stay in bed.”

Tanya rolled her eyes.

‘I’m not some sort of Shonen Protagonist. I am always willing to follow the advice or instructions of those more qualified than me, especially in regards to my long-term health. I still plan on growing up to be a healthy and happy adult you know!’

She gestured towards a pile of papers stacked neatly on a desk at the far side of the room.

“Would you mind?”

Her Adjutant smiled.

“Ah! Of course!”

The two of them got back into a familiar routine that had been established since she first made her recovery. While her hands were repaired, they still needed to undergo physical therapy and so using them for any length of time was often too much. Instead, the Lieutenant would pass a document over for her to read and she would make some remarks that her Adjutant would right down. Every once in a while, she would let her Adjutant feed her a slice of apple which the woman took great delight in for some reason.

This bit of rather mundane administrative activity was interrupted by her door once again opening. This time, however, the door barely managed to stay on its hinge as Major Alex Louis Armstrong barged into the room.

^◊♦_◊ “Major Tanya Degurechaff, I hope that you are recovering well!” _♦◊^♦

Tanya grimaced at the loud, boisterous man’s entrance. She was conflicted. His personality could be described charitably as well-meaning, so she did not hold it against him. Rather, she did not appreciate the man’s company because he did not know how to keep his mouth shut.

He had told her Adjutant the full story surrounding the State Alchemist Exam; namely that she had been forced into the position by the Fürer. She had feared that the revelation would have turned her band of war maniacs against her; that they would realize the person they risked their lives to save was not as patriotic as they had believed. Her Adjutant did not seem to respond whatsoever to the news… which she did not know was a good sign.

Fortunately, there was no mutiny yet, but she had no doubt the Battalion’s opinion of their commander had changed. She knew that playing it extra safe regarding them – and especially around her Adjutant – was the best way forward for now. She needed them on her side and so she would do everything she could to show to them that she was taking her role seriously. She would have them believe she had no intention of leaving the military, even if her true aspirations were otherwise.

She gave a strained smile to the Strongarm Alchemist.

“Major Armstrong, it is good to see you again. Yes, the recovery is still not complete, but I am stable. My body is just working through a little infection and some physical therapy, but I will be making a full recovery. In other news, I spoke with your father yesterday and he said to give you ‘The Armstrong Line’s greatest well-wishes’ … whatever that means.”

With mention of his family, a smile grew and tears fell on the massive man’s face. He went through a number of bodybuilder poses that seemed to shake the room.

^♦◊_♦ “That is exceptional news! And why was my father here to visit you?”_◊♦^◊

She waved off the question, not wanting to remember the moment more than she had to.

“Your father was the commander in charge of the Western Front. Someone had put the idea in his head that my unit was solely responsible for the outcome of the War with Creta and he wanted to offer his personal ‘thanks’.”

Of course, she could read between the lines.

‘General Zettour clearly hoisted all responsibility for the failure of the operation onto me. Nothing else makes sense. Armstrong is a well-known name with a family full of military service so the visit certainly wasn’t to save face or build up his reputation. The man was an expert in sarcasm though, I could hardly tell he was sarcastic in his praise at all!’

Armstrong took the news with the opposite of aplomb. Looking more manic than ever.

^♦◊_♦ “My father has praised for your prodigious efforts in ending the grisly conflict on our Western border. I still have many scruples about your participation in our military. Oh, my soul is torn in two! You are so young and were injured on your first mission, yet you’ve done such great work!” _◊♦^◊

The Strongarm Alchemist threw off the upper half of his uniform, subjecting the room to the man’s well-toned physique. Tanya could not help but be jealous of the time the man must have had to not only create, but maintain such proportions.

^◊♦_◊ “Muscles of Righteousness™! Judge my actions and reveal to me the right path forwards!” _♦◊^♦

Lieutenant Serebryakova chuckled at the antics, but she could not feel the same amusement. She shook her head.

“That’s quite enough Major Armstrong. While it was not my first choice, I have come to find the military to be an employer that places strong emphasis on results, and that is to be admired. The injuries to my hands were an unfortunate accident that no one could have foreseen, but I have been treated to the best care possible.”

Luckily, it seemed that her Adjutant also seemed to agree with her assessment.

“Yes! The Major saved the lives of me and my men! Without her I do not know what we would be doing now.”

‘I’m relieved to hear at least one person in the Battalion does not want to blame me for the lives lost during the mission. I’ll need to work hard to ensure those feels spread around.’

The Strongarm Alchemist nodded and slowly got to putting his uniform back on. He seemed sobered by Viktoriya’s words.

“I see. You have found a group of allies to support you. I can only hope that means any help I can give is no longer needed.”

His normally sunny disposition turned serious as he looked their way.

“I hope that you continue to watch over each other in Ishval. I’ve just been officially… transferred away from the Front, so I will not be seeing you for some time. I am… not allowed to say much about my time there, but the thing that caused me the most pain was the lack of good friends.”

Tanya frowned.

“I had been meaning to ask you. When I saw you last-”

Armstrong’s serious look disappeared and he gave her a soft smile and a wink.

“Don’t worry yourself with your seniors, Mythril. Us military men are made of tough stuff. You once asked me if I had goal. I couldn’t answer you before, but I can now. I hope to make a world of peace where children like you are no longer needed to fight our wars.”

Tanya smiled as he thought back to the world she had once called home.

‘That too was once a world once filled with war, but Free-Market Capitalism and a level-headed, rational individuals could break the cycle of violence. I only wish everyone was like Armstrong and gave peace a chance. If it wasn’t for people like the Fürer putting me into uncomfortable positions I would already-’

Her smile froze on her face as she realized the man of her nightmares had somehow escaped the confines of her mind and into reality.

The Fürer smiled and stepped into the room, he held what looked like a gift-basket which he placed next to her bed.

“Ah, it seems I am interrupting something, should I wait outside?”

Everyone saluted and Lieutenant Serebryakova – not used to their leader’s surprises – looked like she might faint on the spot.

“F-F-Fürer President King Bradley, sir!”

Tanya looked at her hands still curled-in on themselves and sighed.

“No, you could never interrupt, sir. I apologize if my salute is not quite adequate.”

Major Armstrong glared at their leader.

“I was just about to head out.”

‘Could he be more rude?! I hope he is not doing that for my sake! The last thing I need is to gain even more scrutiny by the ruler of the land!’

Major Armstrong turned to Tanya.

“It was good to see your again. Hopefully next time will be under better circumstances.”

She gave him a small smile, but silently urged the oaf to leave before he started something with the Fürer.

“You as well. I would like to see the world you want to create one day.”

As Major Armstrong left, many others started to arrive. Several men wore cameras while others brought in several boxes.

‘What the hell has my hospital bedroom devolved into?! What is this, some kind of sitcom?’

Seemingly understanding her thoughts, the Fürer shrugged his shoulders and gave a chuckle.

“Please don’t mind these fellows. You’re something of a rising star in the military; a little bit of pomp and ceremony is to be expected.”

Her heart dropped.

‘Oh no! I feared they would discharge me from the military, but this is too much! Is that your plan, to give me a miraculous cure and an insurmountable debt on me, then fire me from the military as a publicized event?! Forget my career, my life would be over!’

She tried to think of whatever she could to placate her superior.

“Your kind words are far too generous, my Fürer. You’ve healed my hands and given me a position in the military I don’t deserve. I can only hope to continue serving the State for as long as I am able in whatever capacity is desired.”

Thankfully, the Fürer seemed pleased by her words.

“I’m glad you feel that way. I think I have the authority to speak for the State to say that We are grateful for your service.”

Before she could consider the surprising words, he snapped his fingers. A woman rushed to grab a parcel and stood next to her bed. Opening the box, the woman revealed a golden medallion. At the same time, a number of the photographers started taking pictures. Tanya was so dumbfounded she instinctively put on a smile.

Presumably ignorant to the nature of her confusion, the Fürer continued with his speech.

“It is my privilege, as the leader of the people of Amestris and as the Commander-in-Chief of the Amestrian Armed Forces to present to you, Tanya Degurechaff, honors for your duty towards your fellow soldiers and to Amestris. Under normal circumstances, the awarding of a medal is done with a ceremony; one for each medal and celebrating the recipients collectively. However, for your unprecedented service and your current circumstances, some adjustment to standard procedure are necessary.”

‘Hold on a minute! What is this?! I don’t understand. I failed my very first mission! I got soldiers killed, and returned wounded. I should be discharged. Why am I being rewarded?!’

Taking out the golden medallion from the box and pinning it to her hospital gown, her leader turned to the cameras as they took more pictures. She turned back to her with a fatherly smile.

“While long overdue, your development of the Operation Orb has realized the potential I had envisioned from the moment I first saw it. For making such a potent weapon in service of the State, you are awarded the Golden Medal of Merit for War Aid.”

‘Wait a moment… between curing my hands and these medals, aren’t I really in debt to him now? What could be his scheme?’

Ignorant of her internal struggles to come to terms with her sudden change in fortune, the Fürer pinned another medal onto her small frame.

“Your comrades were generous in their praise and your commanders see no reason to think otherwise. For saving your comrades from harm at great risk to yourself, you are rewarded the Golden Medal of Merit with Crossed Swords, the highest honor for bravery the military can give.”

Again the photographers took her picture and she had to fight a scowl. She realized exactly what type of game the Fürer was playing now.

‘By tying me closer to himself, he’s limiting my avenues of escape. To quit the military now – even quitting as State Alchemist – would be an affront to his generosity. He’s killing me with kindness. Ha! No matter, I am the master of my own fate! In a few months, I’ll be back to civilian life and can tell my employer that I’m “Truly disheartened not to live up to the aspersions of our leader”. I’d still be looked at with respect! Your little games change nothing!’

Then the final medal was revealed. It was almost twice the size of the other ones: a large golden broach with silver bands around the edges. She had trouble making out the detail with it upside down, but it looked like a starburst ringed with wings.

“Finally, you trained an elite group of soldiers, planned a daring assault behind enemy lines, and saved an entire front from the brink of collapse. Seldom in military history has one individual so completely represented the success of a unit, and one unit represented the success of a war. Lieutenant General Hans von Zettour insisted that without the actions of you specifically, that his plan would not have succeeded. For your unique skills – which rescued the Army and by extension the State from peril – you are awarded the Order of Merit to the State with Silver Wings.”

‘The Order of State Merit with Silver Wings?! I didn’t even know you could get that while still breathing. No wait, more importantly, General Zettour got promoted for his botched mission?! This makes no sense, my Battalion was stretched thin, I got soundly routed and I failed part of my objective despite an overwhelming superiority in modern weapons, leading to half my Platoon getting injured! How could anyone-’

Suddenly, it hit her. The truth behind the whole thing.

‘No… no no no! General Zettour, what did you do?! He was probably the who faced most of the blame for my failure. It all makes sense now. Who would be blamed more: the subordinate failing on their first mission, or the superior who sent them? But for him to be promoted… there must have been some backroom deal. He gets promoted for his “genius plan” while I’m given the blame as the “newbie”. In fact, by that logic, the Fürer is actually doing me a massive favor by not throwing me under the bus!’

She looked at her leader with a new light as he pinned the last medal onto her. The ceremony and pageantry made perfect sense now. She had been chosen by him to be a State Alchemist, so her failure would have looked bad on him as well. But while he was trying to save face, he was also showing his support for her potential.

The Fürer finished his speech and gestured to the remaining boxes off to the side.

“As for your other merits. It goes without saying you have received medals for injury in military service and for service during the Western Border Conflict. We even received a surprising bounty of research potential from the bits of those chimera we were able to retrieve from your battle. Those rewards are all here, but it would not be right to dilute the outstanding achievements already presented. Instead, I will say that these medals are not merely trinkets. They are not just a symbol to wear on your uniform, but a symbol of the person you are. Thus, befitting of the recognition of who we now know you to be, you have also been promoted. Congratulations, Lieutenant Colonel.”

With those final words, Tanya Degurechaff froze. The cost-benefit analysis constantly going through her mind struggled to accommodate such a massive shift in variables. She was no longer just a State Alchemist with a symbolic rank, but someone serving under the Fürer with an official hierarchy and career path.

‘This changes everything. I’d always had my mind set on quitting, but why would I still fight this? Considering that I have a several months before the State Certification renewal – and any chance of leaving the military gracefully – what is the benefit in starting over from scratch? I’ve not only received the attention of the leader of Amestris, but numerous other Generals as well. Lieutenant Colonel… that’s just two tantalizing steps away from Brigadier General, and who heard of a General stepping foot on the battlefield? I just need to focus on gaining positive results and if I keep the same rate of success, and I could achieve that rank before the end of the year! No, this is a blessing in disguise. I’ve already received the medals, so no one can say I didn’t earn any future promotions. I just need to gain a few more notable achievements, get back in the good graces of the military’s top staff, and I can have the comfortable job of my dreams through my own merit, with growth right to the top!’

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, she showed a genuine smile and gave her leader a crisp salute. Her injured fingers strained to stay straight, but the pain was nothing compared to the prospects of her future.

“I am grateful for the honor to serve in a greater capacity, my Fürer! I only hope that I continue to reward the faith you have placed in me!”

The man returned her smile but narrowed his eyes in an obvious warning to not get too full of herself.

“I’m sure you will, Mythril.”

As everyone started leaving the room, she turned to her Adjutant with a thoughtful look.

‘If I just need to reaffirm my commitment to the Battalion. With loyal subordinates and generous superiors, moving up the ranks and a comfortable life behind the frontlines is only a matter of time!’

---

November 16^th, 1908, Central Military Cemetery, Central City Outskirts, Amestris – Weiss POV

As Captain Matheus Johan Weiss walked along the rows of white, identical tombstones. As a man over 5 years in the military, he was not unaccustomed to death, but these were the first ones in a new unit; it felt more personal. He could not help but reminisce on his life and choices again… he had made a number of bad ones.

He was an ordinary man. If asked, most people would say he was nice – a little awkward maybe – but a model of the typical officer: rule-abiding, stern, but with a certain likable charm. He was never bullied in school and grew up in a middle-class family which wanted for nothing. Had he desired it, he could have taken over the family business. His father ran a small newspaper and he could have worked his way to succeeding him.

He could have, if not for the great flaw of many teenagers: his ego could not take it.

Had he worked with his father, he would be competing with other exceptional individuals in the company for the chance at leadership and if he did finally take over, he would be forced to compete with other newspapers for readership. It would be a rewarding life perhaps, but there was so much expectations, so much struggle for something as inconsequential as a local paper.

‘”What was the point of that?” I’d thought. I can laugh about it now, but at the time, I was a rotten, spoiled brat. I was given everything on a silver platter and squandered it. My parents were smart to give me an ultimatum: get a job or get out. I’d earned it, but it wasn’t as bad as it sounded: I had the grades and I was still well liked enough in the community to get an apprenticeship somewhere… but that would be admitting that I wasn’t as “special” as I thought I was. So I joined the military.’

It seemed like the best choice at the time. As an officer, he would be told what to do and so long as he followed orders, he would rise in the ranks, participate in important events, and retire as a hero everyone respected. The perfect job for the lazy egotist.

‘Then I grew up. I saw a lot of good friends die and I realized that the world was bigger than my inflated self-worth. I decided to dedicate my life to just ensuring that the people around me were alright. I guess at some point along the way, I’d become someone others could depend on… but I never quite felt that “pride” again. I felt… adrift.’

Then he had been given the opportunity at random to join the 203^rd.

‘It’s funny. If I’d not been ordered to participate, I’d probably quit the training on the first day. I’d grown complacent. “I’m too old.” “I’m not as good as everyone else.” Somehow, I’d gone completely in the other direction from when I was a kid. But after that first day, I couldn’t just call it quits. I had a small chance of living my childish dreams; of being the best-of-the-best. With the benefit of an extra few years, I finally realized that I was being given a golden opportunity on a silver platter. I couldn’t, wouldn’t, let life pass me by again.’

He was broken from his melancholic anamnesis by the more mournful sight of five coffins making their way towards a group of military and soldiers on the far end of the row. In traditional military custom, several members of the Battalion acted as pall-bearers bringing the large caskets to the open pits of earth. On one side, the family of the soldiers were crying and talking among themselves. In the other corner of the congregation, the officers instinctively grouped together.

Realizing the somber mood, no one said anything for a while, but – as the newly appointed second-in-command – Weiss felt it necessary to lighten the mood a little. He turned to Visha.

“Congratulations on your promotion 1^st Lieutenant.”

She gave him a small smile. He counted even just that as an achievement considering the circumstances.

“The Lieutenant Colonel promoted everyone Captain, you were the one who benefited most of all. It was only a matter of time, but you deserve the Vice Commander spot. I don’t want to hear anyone saying that I have the Colonel’s favor just because I’m the Adjutant.”

The others seemed to catch onto his ploy to get everyone a little more comfortable. Captain König also chimed in.

“That’s right, we’re really becoming a top-heavy organization. Not a single Enlisted in the entire Battalion now.”

1^st Lieutenant Vooren Grantz nodded his head.

“Well, we were always supposed to be an elite unit… and the Battalion was never exactly ordinary with less than 100 soldiers.”

Captain Neumann let out a small chuckle, grabbing both Visha and Grantz by the shoulders.

“I guess you could say that rank isn’t very important between comrades. You hear that? I don’t want to hear anyone calling me Captain Neumann.”

Captain König narrowed his eyes.

“Fine, but I expect you all to just call me König, got it?”

“Whatever you say Willibald.”

“You-”

Seeing that they were getting a little too rowdy for a funeral, he raised his hands in a placating gesture.

“Alright, alright. Don’t start that again. Now I’m sure you all got the new organizational chart. We are getting more Orbs and filling out the rest of the unit with new blood.”

Lieutenant Grantz puffed up his chest a little.

“No one could replace our losses. We are the only ones to pass the Major -er, the Lieutenant Colonel’s training. No one else could compete.”

Captain Neumann side-eyed the younger officer and shook his head.

“I wouldn’t be so sure. Our commander didn’t just pick these new soldiers from nowhere. The 28 recruits came straight from the pool of people that didn’t quite make the cut during training. I don’t know if you remember, but competition got fierce at the end there. While we’ve been sitting comfortable in the Battalion, these guys promised to keep training until they got in. I wouldn’t count them out.”

Lieutenant Serebryakova – who had not said anything until now – muttered a few words.

“I don’t think they could replace Sergeant Hoffmann though.”

Seeing all of their solemn expressions, she quickly waved her hands.

“Ah, sorry. I didn’t want to bring down the mood.”

Weiss shook his head. It was his fault for even trying to lift their spirits to begin with. While it was important to keep a positive outlook, he also knew there was a time and place for everything.

“No, you could say that this is the appropriate mood.”

The rest of the officers were quick to agree.

“Yeah, as much as I want to joke, we should be honoring them instead.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Yeah, we know you didn’t mean anything by it.”

Wanting to move the conversation away from the current awkwardness, Captain Weiss broached a possibly sensitive topic from when he talked to the Lieutenant last.

“I remember you mentioned that you were there when Sergeant Hoffmann died.”

Unlike the first time – and against his expectations – the Lieutenant gave a small smile at the implied question.

“Yeah… as much as it is a sad memory, it is a bit of a happy one too. The idiot said he was jealous of me for being able to help out Tanya so much, yet he is the one who ended up helping her the most. He dived right in the way of that monster. She would have died if it wasn’t for him.”

Tears began to trickle down her face as she recalled his final moments.

“Right at the end there, he was smiling. Told me he was sorry for doubting me and said I couldn’t cry. Moron said ‘I want a lady to cry for me, but you might worry the Major, you can cry for me at my funeral’.”

He felt his own eyes grow hot and sting with tears and see that the others were getting misty-eyed as well.

Captain Neumann let out a huff with mock anger.

“Well… bastard at least got his timing right.”

They chuckled softly at that.

It was a few more minutes until the newly appointed Lieutenant Colonel arrived. He had heard from Visha that she was in numerous meetings with Generals and even the Fürer all afternoon. The car she was in did not even get to drive away before she was running towards them in a hurry as thought she was late and not just released from the hospital a few days prior. Likewise, Visha did her duty as Adjutant and rushed to meet their commander, helping her navigate the stairs of a small podium. They had set it up so that she would be able to see them all and vice-versa despite her small stature. The assistance appeared greatly needed as her hands were unable to grab hold of anything.

Weiss heard Grantz whisper to them.

“Damn, I knew the damage was bad, but it still hasn’t healed after 2 weeks?”

He shook his head.

“Not that she lets it stop her. Visha told me she had the doctors put a hole in her initial cast just so she could stick a pen in it to write reports.”

They did not even laugh but nodded; it sounded about right. König gestured towards the two.

“And you remember what Visha said, right? Being a State Alchemist wasn’t her first choice. Yet despite that, she built a groundbreaking new weapon, trained an elite unit, and ended a war.”

Neumann shook his head.

“It sounds crazy; I don’t even notice she’s still a kid half the time. I can’t even imagine her doing anything else… well, maybe a teacher? If she could teach a room full of enlisted meatheads to do math, she could teach anything. Would feel a bit sorry for the students though.”

A few of them chuckled softly for an instant before they heard their commander blow her whistle. The crisp sound had everyone immediately snap to attention. She looked at everyone with uncharacteristic worry for a moment before her face set into her usual stern expression. Rather than looking at her soldiers, however, she seemed to be directly addressing the civilians.

“Thank you for coming. Everyone here personally knew the people we lost just a month ago and that is not something most Battalions can say; but in my unit, every soldier is worth a dozen anywhere else. That is not hyperbole. Sergeants Clausewitz, Hoffmann, and Braun, Corporal Harris and Private Schwartz were examples of the quality of this Battalion. They never quit. When given time off, they would request more training. All of you are war-maniacs er, battle-hardened soldiers who don’t shy away from danger. The best of the best.”

Weiss could feel himself stand a little straighter.

‘Maybe I should do a few mountain hike exercises with the new recruits. I can’t risk lowering the standards of the unit.’

Their commander shook her head.

“But these men were especially brave. They volunteered for my Platoon knowing they would be put at greater risk. The enemy often focuses on the commander in battle and my missions would come with more difficulties. So when the inevitable time came, they didn’t waver, and bought enough time to save my life and the lives of their fellow comrades. They did their duty… but like the medals, the double-promotion and the bereavement bonus, that must sound like cold comfort. They sacrificed their lives for the Fatherland, but those five brave men will not see their homeland again. And as many of you are aware, I am partially responsible.”

Weiss’ eyes went wide with shock.

‘What? Why would she think she’d anything to do with their deaths? She trained us to be the best of the best and faced down literal monsters in one-on-one combat!’

He was not the only one feeling frustrated at the sudden admission of guilt as he could hear a few harsh whispers around him. He also could see Visha seemingly shake her head in frustration. No doubt that when she was helping the Lieutenant Colonel with her speech, this must have come up.

Despite the growing tension of the soldiers wanting to cry out in denial, however, Tanya turned to her Adjutant who held up a thick binder filled with paper.

“But I’ve not been idle! As commander, I take my duties very seriously; as seriously as I’ve seen many others in the Battalion take their own. The pages here are those 5 men’s legacy. They describe the abilities of our enemies, the tactics they used and the skills we can learn to counter them. Already, I have been given approval from the Fürer for new versions of the Orb to be produced and new training regimes implemented.”

He was in shock now, but for an entirely different reason.

‘Is that why she was running around so much?! I’d thought that with her promotion and medals that she’d be getting interviews with Generals or with the Press. She helped end a years-long war! But she was doing research like Visha always talks about… she always puts the Battalion first…’

His commander continued to speak, but he was no longer listening. He would later regret that, but at the moment his mind was racing. It was becoming clear that the Lieutenant Colonel would continue to push herself to the limit to hone them into perfect weapons. Until now, he had been content to ride on her coat-tails and passively absorb her lessons, but as the Vice Commander, could he afford to?

‘She saw something in me… something that even now I can’t see in myself. I’m just an ordinary man, but maybe… maybe I could be something more.’

For the first time since he’d joined the military, Captain Matheus Johan Weiss felt a spark of confidence. This was not his teenaged ego rearing its ugly head again. He was the Vice Commander of the greatest military unit in Amestris!

‘Maybe it’s time I started acting like it.’

From then on, whenever he was not busy in training, in battle, or handling the affairs of the Battalion in his commander’s stead, he would go to libraries, talk with old acquaintances and remind them of old favors. He would better himself, so that he too could someday see that part of him his commander found and nurture it so that someday, when Lieutenant Colonel Tanya Degurechaff moved on to grander undertaking that he could scarcely imagine, he would be ready to take charge.

Ready to realize the potential his commander saw in him.

---

November 16^th, 1908, Office of the Fürer-President, Central Headquarters, Central City, Amestris – Wrath POV

The man known as King Bradley stepped into his office having just come from another meeting with the Mythril Alchemist.

The girl had taken her newfound popularity with aplomb, consolidating her new authority and requisitioning resources to create more powerful weapons loyal to herself. Her ambition was as naked as it was typical and he was glad she was finally becoming more controllable. Had she wanted to be a thorn in his side, she could have stayed under the command of Lieutenant General Zettour and the Western General Staff. Had she done so, she might have forced him to take more drastic measures, but if she wanted to trade power and success for loyalty to Central Authority and a position under his direct control, he was more than happy to approve it.

Even if it meant potentially poisoning his inner circle with her special brand of “corruption”, he was on a time-crunch. The Promised Day was mere years away and he was still not ready to play his part. Now that the conspiracy was moving, unwavering loyalties were challenged and the apparatus of the State was slowly freeing itself from the steel-tight grip he had wrestled it into over his 35 years in office.

The first cracks to show was the little ‘ploy’ of the Silver Alchemist to get rid of his protégé. That the State Alchemy Exam – something invaluable to his Father’s plans – could be subverted so easily was unacceptable. The situation resolved itself and both Mythril and Silver placed themselves squarely underneath his boot, but only by his direct action. Had he not seen the report on his activity for just another hour, a valuable pawn would have slipped his grasp and potentially turned into a dagger to his throat.

Being the Dictator of the Nation meant being responsible for these failures, but it was also true that no ship steered itself. Just his room showed the incompetence of those around him. His desk was disorganized and filled with frivolous information and his phone was stacked with memos from unanswered calls. He had been away for only an hour, yet that was long enough for the government to buckle under the burden of his absence. He felt a small bit of pride from knowing he was such a powerful and respected individual of the massive nation under his control.

But pride was not his emotion. No, he was furious.

He looked to his secretary Lieutenant Colonel Klemin sitting in one corner with a stupid expression on his face and no sense of urgency. The dark-skinned man was of middling quality but suitable ambition. He could be trusted with some knowledge of his Father’s plans. Like many men of similar disposition, however, his incompetence was both a blessing and a curse. While he could be relied on to handle the sensitive nature of his double-life when necessary – and could be disposed of at any time – he was unable to do any of the administrative tasks to an acceptable level.

‘I’ll need to give him a promotion into some inactive Central Brigade as soon as possible and replace him with someone more suitable. With our plans moving into the next phase, we will need more competence in key positions, even if it might put our secrecy in jeopardy. This most recent failure was the last straw.’

That failure being the matter he had just finished resolving; that of the Mythril Alchemist’s surprising effectiveness. Surprising because t he Western Border War with Creta was meant to continue for at least five more years and keep the Western militarists distracted. The technologies of Amestris and the surrounding nations had been tailored from centuries of espionage to suit a style of attrition conflict where lives were expended with little gain. There should have been no changes for at least a decade; the State had full control over politics and technology of Amestris, Creta and Aerugo with politicians and aristocrats bought and paid for.

‘There will be hell to pay, and I know just who to pay it.’

With a wave of his hand, his secretary let in Giolio Comanche, the Silver Alchemist, who held his hat in his hands with a look of worry he rightfully deserved.

“Ah, my Fürer, it is so good to-”

“Silver. Do you know why you are here?”

The man made an audible swallow as he looked away from his leader. He fidgeted with his hat before glancing at the ruler of Amestris.

“Ah, that… I, I don’t know how it was possible! I told you everything, I swear! The Operation Orb is the most sophisticated piece of machinery to have ever been produced. I have thousands of pages dedicated just to he explanation of how the complicated mathematics works. There is no way that a bunch of meatheads could-”

Wrath slammed his desk and stood up. He balled up a piece of paper and threw it at the man. It was the only thing he could think of that would result in him not running him through with a sword where he stood.

‘He still has a use… I must have restraint…’

“No way, you said?! I have a report here stating that Mythril’s Battalion – a Battalion I made on your recommendation to keep her pacified – was able to end a war on its own! That does not sound very complicated to me! When I ordered you to create a toy for the Western Military to play with while the State perfected an improved version, that was not a request. I was expecting Mythril’s Battalion to be like the chemical warfare that was attempted. It was supposed to be an idle curiosity for the moralists to ponder over, but it was not supposed to change the situation!”

The man was sweating now and tugged at the collar of his waistcoat.

“I- I just don’t understand what is so bad about all this… we won the war didn’t-”

The leader of Amestris had enough. In a flash, he was at the Silver Alchemist’s neck and had him pinned to a wall.

“It is not your place to understand the Will of the State, Silver!”

‘With the Western Militarists free to build their resources, they now could join the north in threatening my Central Hegemony. What’s more, with Lieutenant General Armstrong’s recent move to Briggs, their family now has enough power to destabilize the nation. If not for the heir’s flagrant cowardice and the Western War, I would have been forced to purge them and half of their supporters; a Civil War, just to stay in power! Yet this man has the gall to think he did something positive?!’

He could feel his nature luring him in. He so desperately wanted to say those thoughts at the man. To make him a liability so he would be forced to execute him. It would be so easy. In close quarters like this, he was unmatched. It would only be an instant and the rage within him would be satiated.

He dropped the Alchemist to the floor and looked down on him with disdain.

“Mythril has been promoted and sent to Ishval. I have every confidence she will be able to achieve the results your project was meant to provide. You will be moved into a new project. Congratulations. Just as you hoped, you will be privy to more State Secrets… and if you fail again, no one will save you from my Wrath.”

This was not a threat, it was a promise, and they both knew it. With a nod of the Fürer’s head, Secretary Klemin sent a signal downstairs. In a moment, the door to his office opened and a frail-looking older man with combed-back hair, a labcoat, and a monocle opened the door. He was surprised when his leader threw the Silver Alchemist at his feet.

The Fürer straightened his presidential coat and turned to the scientist.

“Doctor Schugel, your request has been approved. The Silver Alchemist will be working under your project now. I will expect superior weekly reports on the progress of Project Sovereign from now on, is that understood?”

The man looked delighted with a manic expression in his eyes.

“Of course, mein Fürer! I will provide only the best that science can provide! Come Silver, destiny awaits!”

With that, the two left, leaving the man known as King Bradley to his work. He sat down at his desk, read through the reports while he thought.

‘Unlike the incompetence of my secretary, that man is a whole different kind of dangerous. On paper, he should be fully in the Western camp and loyal to the ir General Staff that I had replaced with my puppets. At the same time, his competence is undeniable. With his ambition, he could have any position he wanted even without my assistance. Yet it is clear from even a single conversation that he shouldn’t be trusted with anything. Yet, it can be said that any human with an understanding of our goals can only appeal to that sort of insanity. He cannot be any worse than Silver, at least I know that Doctor Adelheid von Schugel is not to be trusted-’

His thoughts were interrupted by his door opening. He was not expecting any visitors. In an instant, he had his sword in his hand underneath his desk and looked up to the intruder. His secretary was a moment slower, but had a greater reaction, standing up from his own desk.

“How did you get in here? What are you-”

Wrath cut the man off by crossing the room in a moment and gripping him on the shoulder.

“You may leave now.”

“But-”

Secretary Klemin was stopped by the look his leader was giving him. With an audible gulp, the man grabbed a few documents before heading out the door.

The intruder gave Wrath a large smile, his single golden tooth glistening.

“I see you’ve been having difficulties in handling things by yourself. I should be annoyed at being called in to cure some pathetic child’s boo-boos but it’s worth it to see that look on your face.”

The Fürer could not stop from clenching his fists and his face contorting with rage. The man before his subjected him to a decade of living hell to transform him into what he was today, but he no longer faulted him for that. He knew the nature of the world now and – as a superior being – he recognized the procedure as a blessing. No, what he hated was the look of superiority the doctor gave. That a human would dare think of himself the superior to a homunculus… he should rip out the Doctor’s jaw for even hinting at such a thing.

The Doctor was not attacked and took the lack of action from his leader as a sign of victory.

“Ah, you’ll need to calm down before your emotions cause yet more failures. I am all too willing to fix your mistakes, but Father is not pleased. Some changes to the plan are to be expected. Perhaps your role will need to be adjusted as well. I’m sure you understand.”

He ignored the pathetic man’s jibes.

“What do you want?”

The man brought his hand to his face.

“Didn’t you hear me? The plans are being adjusted, but I can understand that a fool like yourself cannot think through the full ramifications. I’ spell it out, I expect your full cooperation with handling the new budgets I have for my projects. Project Valhalla and Project Lucifer will not be threatened by the shortfalls of your failures.”

With the gloating finished, the man left.

With him gone, he was finally free to let his anger loose, stabbing a sword into a concrete wall and using the other to drive a deep gouge into his desk and his paperwork. His knuckles were white on the hilts of the blades and he could feel his left eye feel red-hot underneath his eyepatch.

With the immediate need for violence satiated, he pulled out the sword from the wall and released a puff of concrete dust in the process. He shook the blade of the debris, sheathed the two blades in the holsters on his sides and sat at his now-ruined desk.

It took a few moments before he brought a hand to his face as he came down from the adrenaline high and could not contain himself. He laughed and slapped a hand on his chair. He could almost feel tears at the edges of his eyes.

‘Is he an idiot? The Doctor really must have hated Tanya Degurechaff if he was willing to march up from the basement and all the way to me to whine about it.’

The rapid changes in mood took over a minute to resolve themselves and the polite “mask” of the Fürer found its way on his face again. He considered the girl again carefully as he had for the past few weeks.

‘Whoever Mythril is, her natural state is aggravation. Like a mosquito, I can’t help but keep track of her every move and crush her in brutal violence disproportionate to her threat. So far, she had done nothing but throw centuries of planning to waste. That would be more of a concern if it did not happen all the time. Every invention brings with it change and disruption.’

He stood up and looked out the window behind him and out over Central City. The multitude of people before his eye were like ants in every sense of the word. Yet this one alchemist rose above them. She was still an insect, but not one that could be ignored.

‘An Alchemist with paradigm-shifting research, yet lacking in the fundamentals. An utterly incomprehensible soldier who who pulls off the impossible. An ambitious commander who appears doggedly loyal. An unprecedented child genius with no background. The four nuns at the orphanage who raised her did not give up anything even when tortured to death. Who is pulling her strings? What are their goals, their arrogance for displaying their puppet for the world to see?’

And it was without question she was a pawn on the board of someone else. He knew from personal experience that someone that could not become so omni-competent without support at any age. Either she looked far younger than her real age and had decades of experience they could not account for, or she was like himself: a true genius with educators from a diverse set of exceptional backgrounds. That sort of person came with investment, but her actions did not yield the usual suspects. This was something new and for that he was ironically grateful. Since neither the State nor the other Homonculi could come up with the breadth or scope of the organization backing her, he could not be held accountable for failing to prevent her from disrupting their plans.

And she would be allowed to continue. He had asked for permission to end her threat – if only to show his commitment – but Father had denied him. She was the only piece of this potential adversary and removing her would only keep the rest of them hidden. That was – of course – ignoring her potential as a sacrifice.

That was not to say they were passive. Already, a number of large changes were being made to their plans. The Operation Orb was incorporated into their existing projects and the neighboring powers were subtly shifted back into balance with Amestris. Their plans were entering a period of uncertainty, but that was only natural. The organization that stood for centuries had met such periods time-and-time again without compromise and it would do so again. The wars would continue and the deaths would mount. Greed had proven that no one person – however capable – would stop that.

‘Whatever new player is entering our sphere of influence, they will change nothing. You will live Mythril… for now. You’re a point of interest that can be disposed of at any time, but you are also the only source of information regarding your masters. We will discover your true purpose, and then-’

He stabbed his desk one final time with a sword, it collapsed in a heap on the floor.

Chapter Text

November 20^th, 1908, 94^th Brigade Headquarters, Gunja Outskirts, Amestris – Fessler POV

Brigadier General Fessler – commander of the 94^th Brigade – was one of many officers charged with the honor of subjugating savage Ishval.

The land had been a perpetual thorn in the side of Amestris ever since it was first annexed. At the time, Amestris was a burgeoning Monarchy with an aristocratic faction that thought the subjugation of the region would bring stability and wealth. After all, it would remove a potential enemy and result in the entire Eastern Area bordering nothing but desert.

They were wrong.

Since the barbarian lands first joined with the civilized world, they have spread nothing but religious unrest and tribalism. What’s more, their lands were barren wastes with little of value. As a result, they were a perpetual drain on the social and economic fabric of Amestris. It was never about if their “nation” would need to be destroyed, but when.

Unlike the newcomer State Alchemists, Fessler had been in the region since the war started over 7 years ago. He had volunteered, his Brigade acting as the fast-response unit of the 12^th Infantry Division assigned to the region to investigate the various rumors of rebellious attitudes in the population. Once found, they had full authority to crush them before they could spread like the infection they were. It was a responsibility given to him by the Fürer himself.

‘Of course, if it happened that some rumor or piece of evidence turned out to be false after the fact, well… that would be a shame. All those Ishvalans killed for “nothing”.’

His family had a long history with Ishval ever since their mountains had been found to have salt and gemstones some on hundred years after they were annexed. The Fesslers had made a name for themselves as premier beer producers, but once the aristocracies were cast out with industrialization, his family moved onto the next great Amestrian business: exploiting their recent conquests for all their worth. While Ishval had little in the way of natural resources, the people of the land had refused to exploit their few commodities for “religious reasons”.

‘Of course, my family ignored their zealot stupidity and made ourselves rich off what little wealth their land had. Not that the savages made it easy. They attacked us for “disturbing the earth” or whatever religious nonsense they believed and killed many of my great-aunts and uncles. It’s been over one hundred years since the last of those resources were exploited, but finally my family will have their justice. It’s only right that a Fessler will eradicate these native cave-dwellers once and for all.’

Like the past, the Ishvalan Rebels did not make the task simple. Initially, they subverted many Amestrians to their cause and undermined his eradication efforts with talks of “compromise” and “peace”. Thankfully, the military never yielded and the public slowly got back on the side of righteousness once they saw the horrible cost of their ignorant pacifism. Tragically, the lackluster initial support had meant numerous setbacks in supplies and manpower and so the war stretched on for years. Even now he struggled to maintain his reputation despite having done nothing wrong.

‘That those elitist fools in Central would accuse me of incompetence is rich. If it wasn’t for the lack of manpower and supplies provided by them, I could have ended this war by now! Thankfully, the Fürer has finally made right on my numerous requests… or so I thought.’

He watched as this unit – the 203^rd Battalion – made its way through the camp and towards his headquarters for inspection. On paper, it seemed like he would finally have all he needed to end the war. In practice it was anything but. The Battalion was actually little more than a Company in size and was lead by a literal child. Their fresh blue uniforms and white overcoats were pristine when matched against the dirty and ragged appearance of his own hardened forces. He could not help but compare this “Battalion” to the first appearance of the other State Alchemists in his unit.

‘If I didn’t see it before my eyes, I wouldn’t believe it. That a group of individuals touted as “exceptional” could be so pathetic… Save for Kimblee, the State Alchemists were all grossly incompetent and I should have had them all shot. Now a child is being hailed as the “Savior of the West”? No, this was a personal request by the Fürer himself and the 203^rd is still nominally under his command. I wouldn’t dare question it… no matter how idiotic it all sounds.’

100 soldiers stood in ten perfect rows. The two remaining soldiers – their tiny commander and her female adjutant – matched towards him. They looked their age: children with no business anywhere near a frontline. Their soft faces and slender frames looked ready to flee at the first sign of action.

The two stopped a few steps away. The 1^st Lieutenant and the Lieutenant Colonel saluted with the latter walking two steps forwards and shouting her words.

“The 203^rd has arrived! As ordered by our Fürer, I stand ready with your Brigade to relieve-in-place!”

He was surprised she even knew the proper procedure. He responded the response to the ritualistic greeting, if only so he did not look ignorant of proper procedure before his men.

“The Brigade accepts the order and relief.”

He saluted back and shook her hand with a thinly veiled look of disgust.

“So you are the… legendary Colonel Degurechaff. It is a… privilege to have you under my command.”

She nodded with a smile on her pudgy face. She seemed ignorant of his true feelings on the matter.

“I am honored that you have heard of me, Brigadier General Fessler. I have also heard of your strategic success in shifting the front lines of this conflict up to the town’s limits. It seems that this Civil War might soon be at an end.”

General Fessler frowned in an exaggerated way, but inside he was ecstatic. He relished at putting any of these State Alchemists in their place and jumped at the opportunity the girl’s words just gave him.

“For having more respect than some of the men under my command, I will forgive your mistake this time. Please refer to this conflict as a Rebellion. I know that there has been a lot of misinformation about this conflict in Amestris thanks to the wise decision of the top brass in keeping the full scope of it out of the press. That ignorance allows us on the front lines to do our job properly, but I do not want it to cause unnecessary… confusion. I will need have you to be more precise in your language. Calling this a Civil War legitimizes the traitors who are bearing their unreasonable hatred and violence against the legitimate Amestrian State and its people.”

The look of shock on the child’s face was satisfying. She was quick to correct herself.

“Ah, I meant no offense! I will try to be more mindful in the future.”

He nodded dismissively but did not believe her. He had heard similar answers from many State Alchemists and officers beneath him. Then look at the results: cowards like Strongarm and weaklings like Flame espousing his pacifistic drivel.

‘These glorified civilians should be grateful at the chance to participate. They were given an undeserved rank and sent to the front lines to aid in the preservation of our way of life, yet they squander every opportunity they’ve been given!’

He looked down on the girl in annoyance.

“Of course, I am only… too glad to help. Now, I know that my superior – Major General Halcrow in charge of our 12^th Division – has a plan for your unit, but he’s still making preparations. In the meantime, I hope you are ready to get down to business?”

She eagerly nodded. He noted that while she seemed ignorant of the realities of war, she at least had the correct attitude and did not waste his time with needless arguments.

‘Maybe I can mold her into a proper soldier. They say that children are the best learners…’

They moved into the mud-and-stone Ishvalan hovel that served as his headquarters and he offered her a seat. She sat down and he had his Adjutant roll out a map and place various pieces indicating the approximate positions of their own soldiers and the rebels. While he normally did not care for the ignorance of his subordinates, he would need to put in some work in educating her before General Halcrow took control. He did not want his superior to think he was somehow responsible for this Mythril Alchemist’s ignorance.

“Here is an overview of the situation on the front.”

“As you can see, we have an overwhelming advantage in all fronts. The question that has always been asked then is ‘why have we not won?’ It is easy to point to the terrain the stretches our logistics very thin but the rebel roaches always find some way to scrounge together enough food and bullets to be an annoyance. That is where the real difference lies: morale. Our soldiers are too used to temperate surroundings and fine food cannot stomach this barren land.”

The girl frowned.

“Are you sure? The only reason there are not more troops on the front lines is precisely those logistical issues. If we could solve those, we might even solve the morale issue.”

He ground his teeth.

‘I already see this Alchemist will be like all the rest. A robot droning on about “logistics” this and “equipment” that. No sense of the true motivators of war. I hope she at least sticks around long enough to see the war to its end unlike that pathetic coward Armstrong.’

“Oh trust me, you will see all of this for yourself and more. Regardless, it is not our job to solve things like logistics. Thankfully, I have devised a number of incentives that have allowed my unit to excel, but I won’t get into that now. As a fresh unit to the front line, your unit won’t face those problems for at least a few weeks.”

The Mythril Alchemist looked like she wanted to say something but thought better of it.

“Understood, I will defer to your expertise in this matter. What would you like me to do?”

‘Oh she will defer to me, will she? She’s just like the rest of those “elite” bastards from Central. Sometimes even my own subordinates talk about me behind my back! They all think they’re better than me. Well, I achieved better progress than any of them! While they held back, I pushed ahead! I took over half of Ishval all on my own!’

He smirked.

‘We’ll see if I cannot make her more like the Crimson Alchemist. A few months on the front lines and she will face setback after setback just like the rest. After she struggles and fails… maybe I will help her. She’ll either fix that attitude, or this war will break her.’

He gave her a fierce grin.

“I have just the task.”

---

November 21^st, 1908, 94^th Brigade Forward Operating Base, Gunja, Amestris – Roy POV

Major Roy Mustang – the Flame Alchemist – sat on a crate overlooking the shattered remnants of an Ishvalan neighborhood. With little else to do between offensives, he would often spend time looking at the broken remains of the buildings and try to guess what they used to be. It helped him focus on more analytical pursuits beyond the mental formulation and transmutation of human lives into ash.

He looked at the open space and could imagine a town square. Off to the right was house. Above its door hung a broken sign with the symbol of a bale of wheat. He could only conclude it must have been a bakery of some sort. A burned-out shed nearby was probably where they kept wood to heat their stoves. Past the pile of bodies he created a pyre for was a temple of some sort. Certainly dedicated to Ishvala and was probably once a holy site that would bring the whole area to worship. Now it was shuttered, with pews and rugs stuffed into the windows. The former occupants had done it in a desperate attempt to prevent bullets and grenades from going in as the defenders had desperately returned fire to buy time… for what? Roy would never know. Being the largest and sturdiest building, the last rebels had held out there for as long as possible for something .

Whatever salvation they hoped for never came. By that point the Ishvalans were half-dead from hunger and most were just civilians: unarmed woman and children. They put up little fight when they were dragged out and executed up against the wall by his fellow soldiers. He had a moment of morbid relief that at least these people were not killed with his Alchemy. Instead, he was just tasked with removing the evidence before the corpses could spread disease.

Some of the men even nicknamed him the Walking Crematorium . He was not sure which was worse, the nickname itself, or that the soldiers meant it as a term of endearment .

He shook his head of the depressingly familiar thoughts and searched for Captain Maes Hughes. Unlike himself – who had joined the war in Ishval the moment Order 3066 was introduced just under a year ago – Maes had joined their Brigade just a few months ago. What’s more, he had volunteered for the transfer. Maes spoke of some “military experiment” being the justification but could not say much else because of it being a Fürer-grade secret. He also mentioned the Mythril Alchemist – or “monstrous child” as the man put it – being the final straw. No matter the reason, his newfound friend was a complete fool… but Roy was one too, so he was in good company.

Finally finding Captain Hughes looking apprehensively at a some type of document, Roy could not help but startle the man with a rough pat on the back.

“Hey, I haven’t seen you this riled up since before we took Kaluk. What’s the issue?”

The event in question was the first time his comrade had seen the widespread slaughter that had become all but routine for Mustang. With the town conquered, and the populace disarmed, there was little holding back the army from getting “vengeance” in the only way it seemed to know how. He saw people he thought were “normal” turned into little more than mindless animals. If Hughes was nervous about anything even remotely comparable to that, it was something he wanted to know.

Maes looked up with a frustrated look on his face.

“I’m not sure what to think about this… here, look.”

The Flame Alchemist received the document and gave the paper a quick glance.

“The 203^rd Battalion is being assigned to our 12^th Division? Ah, so they must be the ones replacing the 247^th. I don’t think I’ve heard anything about these guys… are they from another front, or maybe they’re a new unit? Anyway, this is good news. It would be good for our unit to be back to full strength. What’s the problem?”

Hughes takes off his glasses and rubs at their scratched surface with his uniform. Bringing them back to his face, he shook his head and sighed.

“That’s not it. This is the Battalion that she made.”

Realizing what he was referring to, Mustang could not help but laugh.

“Haha! Oh, your ‘monster child’ that made you transfer into this hellhole?”

Maes sighed and rolled his eyes.

“Laugh it up Roy, but that ‘child’ is a State Alchemist. You should know better than anyone they don’t just hand out that title. Especially since she…”

His friend stopped talking and looked at something behind him.

“What are you looking…?”

He was also stunned speechless. In front of him were rows and rows of a heavily armed company marching in lock-step. Each of the “Shock Troops” had the latest Bergmann MG15 Machine Guns as well as an arsenal of grenades and ammunition. Their uniforms was pristine and each had a silver sphere of some sort hanging from their necks. While none of the men were exactly perfectly proportioned, their physique was a level above the average soldier; that was a tough bar to cross, especially in Ishval. He did not recognize any of the soldiers, but did recognize the officer at the front. He routinely checked the roster and mugshots of new State Alchemists. He could not let a war prevent him from keeping up with the latest in Alchemic research.

‘So that’s the Mythril Alchemist. From what Maes was saying, I half expected her to be ten feet tall and breathe fire. On the other hand, that 203^rd Battalion… well, that’s one way to make an entrance.’

“Ok, I take it back, who they hell are those guys? If not for the woman at the front, I’d have thought they were shooting something for the propaganda reels.”

He heard the Captain whisper something under his breath.

“They’re all alchemists. She actually did it.”

He turned to his bespectacled comrade with incredulity.

“What? I know every State Alchemist, Maes. It isn’t hard, there aren’t that many of us and none of them look like that. Well, nobody save for Strongarm and Iron Blood at any rate, but certainly not one hundred.”

The Captain rubs the bridge of his nose in frustration.

“That’s just it Roy; only Major Degurechaff is a State Alchemist. The rest are just Trained, but she got them to your level.”

This shocked and angered Roy, who threw his arms up in disbelief.

“You can’t be serious Maes. Why didn’t you tell me something that important?! This could jeopardize my plans for becoming Fürer!”

Rather than the expected apology, his friend simply raised his eyebrows.

“What do you mean? Maybe the State having a more firepower might make a more pacifistic message harder, but I thought that was the reason for your plans. You couldn’t take on the State directly and so you wanted to take control from within.”

He rubbed his face with his hands. His friend was normally far more observant than that; the war must really be getting to him.

“Damn it. No, of course I couldn’t take over the State by force, but I still need to look exceptional. If the State can just produce more soldiers like me, what chance do I have for promotion? I’m not exactly a tactical genius or great leader; I graduated in the middle of my class at the academy. I can get a few like-minded soldiers on my side and loyal, sure, but my most potent asset has always been my Alchemy.”

It seemed that he realized his mistake, but Roy had no time for niceties. Instead, he turned around and marched straight in the direction the soldiers were heading.

Maes raced after him and came up alongside the Alchemist with a flushed look on his face.

“Hey Roy! Look, I’m sorry, but where are you going?”

Roy just rolled his eyes at that.

“Don’t read into it Maes; I’m not that angry. I’m going to meet with the Mythril Alchemist. I’ll talk with these ‘monsters’ and come to my own conclusions.”

‘And if she needs to go to secure my own future, well, so be it. Better to do it sooner rather than later. A dead officer has become a common occurrence on this battlefield…’

The two officers made their way to the far end of the FOB where the 203^rd were busy setting up their tents, storing their unit’s resources and preparing their canteen. While this was normally the time where an officer would give to grant their unit a little R&R after a long march, it seemed this unit was an exception. Rather than tired, they seemed strangely motivated to do the mundane chores, laughing and chatting with one another while they dug latrines or stacked crates. It was a surreal site that had Roy wondering if maybe Hughes’ idea of “monstrous” might not have been that far off.

They made their way to the center where a larger command tent had already been assembled. Roy was shocked.

‘It’s only been 15 minutes. When did they have the time to get this ready?’

Shaking his head, he made his way to the female secretary sitting in front of the entrance. The younger woman was doing some paperwork using a clipboard on a small stool. From his interactions with Riza, he was no stranger to female soldiers and had changed a few incorrect assumptions he had acquired growing up in a hostess bar. But while Riza was the strongest woman he knew and could probably break him in half now, even she did not look as strong as this 1^st Lieutenant. She looked up and both Maes and himself flinched.

‘She’s going for her weapon! If I don’t use my alchemy now I’ll-’

Then it was gone, and all he could see was a strong – but otherwise ordinary – woman. She had not moved a muscle beyond tilting her head up, but it was like she had him at gunpoint.

‘Just what the hell was-’

“Hello? Do you need anything?”

He had to keep himself from jumping at the 1^st Lieutenant’s voice. Using a fake cough to calm himself down, he nodded his head.

“Ahem… yes. 1^st Lieutenant, can I speak with you a moment?”

She nods and puts down her clipboard. Saluting, she introduces herself.

“Lieutenant Serebryakova, sir! What can I help you with Major?”

Roy could not help but chuckle condescendingly to himself. This was probably the first time in over 2 months that anyone had treated him as an actual officer. Before the war, he had actually thought the “Honorary Major” title was worth something, but apart from the pay, it was little more than a gimmick. Even Hughes – despite being a rank below him – was usually treated better.

He gave the other officer a wry smile.

“Ah, well I am a State Alchemist. I’m not exactly a real Major.”

Rather than the embarrassment or condescension he was expecting, Lieutenant Serebryakova just seemed confused.

“I don’t understand, but whatever you mean, I would never consider you less because you’re a State Alchemist. My own commander is one and she quite literally made me into the soldier I am today.”

He scratched the back of his head nervously. That was the last reaction he was expecting.

“Ah, right. Well, would it be possible to meet with her? You see, Captain Hughes here had met with the Major before and so we wanted to meet with her again.”

Maes grabbed him by the shoulder and whispered in his ear.

“Damn it Roy! I do not want to meet her again!”

Ignorant of his friend’s plea, the Lieutenant smiled.

“Ah! You must have met her before her promotion. She is a Lieutenant Colonel now.”

Roy was stunned. It might only seem like a single rank, but going from a State Alchemist to a Lieutenant Colonel was far harder than any other. He had been trying for over 2 years – before State Alchemists were even transferred to active combat – and it was probably only going to be surviving the end of the Ishvalan war that would see him gaining that single rank.

‘What the hell did the Mythril Alchemist do to get that?’

He turned to Maes.

“Didn’t you say you met her three months ago?”

Based on how pale Maes was getting behind his glasses, Roy imagined that this was a surprise to him as well.

“I did…”

The Lieutenant gave them a dreamy look which ignored their horrified reactions.

“She’s so great. The 203^rd – under her leadership – helped end the conflict in the West! She’s honestly a born-commander; our unit would be nothing without her! Now that we’ve been called in the end the rebellion in Ishval, I am confident that with her planning we can-”

The woman’s exuberance was cut off by the Mythril Alchemist herself exiting the tent. Unlike the rest of her unit, she looked as frail and small as her young age would suggest. The deep black bags and the irritability of her tone suggested that they had disturbed her rest.

“What is all the-”

Looking up at them, her face brightened.

“Ah! Captain Hughes, this really is a small world. It’s good to see you again. I’d half-expected that you’d be manning the border with Creta after the end of hostilities. If I remember correctly, your superior was promoted… ah, right, it’s Brigadier General Raven now, I think. He was given his own Brigade in the 24^th Infantry Division so what are you doing here in Ishval?”

The Lieutenant was first to salute her commander and Roy – realizing the child actually outranked him – saluted her along with Maes.

He could see his friend grimace and probably knew what he was thinking.

‘Seriously Maes? If you’d stayed just a few more months you could have been promoted and enjoying some leisurely guard duty right now. Idiot.’

The Lieutenant looked apologetic.

“Sorry for the noise commander, I know you were trying to get some sleep and-”

The Mythril Alchemist chuckled and waved away her Adjutant’s concern.

“No, that’s alright, it’s important to have a rapport with the other officers in our Brigade and we’re still an entire day off from seeing any action.”

Roy looked incredulously between the polite child and his friend.

‘This is the larger-than-life “monster” that Hughes was talking about? A pre-pubescent girl? Well… looks can be deceiving. She is a State Alchemist after all.’

Finally coming to the point of his diversion, he introduced himself.

“Lieutenant Colonel, you are already familiar with Captain Hughes, but I’m Major Roy Mustang, the Flame Alchemist.”

Her face light up with recognition.

“Yes, I remember you. Your thesis on Thermobaric reactions was very influential in the initial research for the Fürer’s project, but the Silver Alchemist and I ultimately went in the direction of Crimson Alchemist’s research regarding explosions. I don’t mean any offense or comparison – both papers were exceedingly well written – but it was just too difficult to maintain a good fuel-air mix in combat conditions. The volumes involved and the efficiency needed to create an effective explosion at a distance was too difficult with primitive Dynamic Circles.”

The Flame Alchemist had to hide a grimace at the thought of anyone gaining combat insights from that research. He could only blame his younger, more naive self.

‘What an idiot I used to be. I just handed all that research over to the State in order to get my State Certification. Thermobarics, Exothermics, Incendiaries, and even aspects of Flame Alchemy and Fuel Transmutation. All just better means of murdering our own civilians. Being useful to the people? Using flames to protect? What the hell was I thinking? If only I had listened to Master back then…’

It took a moment for Roy to catch what the Lieutenant Colonel had said at the end. He glanced at Hughes who seemed just as surprised as he was.

“Hughes couldn’t talk about anything regarding your Alchemy Research. Is that what it was, Dynamic Circles? I’m not familiar with the concept.”

It was like all the tiredness washed away from her face. She nodded with a big smile.

“That’s right! I’m not surprised you haven’t heard of it; it was only declassified recently. With most of the senior officers on the Western Front as well as a dozen-or-so State Alchemists seeing the technology at my Alchemy Certification, it was only a matter of time. I hope for it to be a great new avenue of technological development. There was a report detailing the gist of it in broad strokes sent out last week, although I do not fault that this battle with the Ishvalans has not given you much time to keep up-to-date. As you can imagine, there’s still some things I cannot say, but putting it plainly, the silver object on my chest here allows someone not at the State level to perform certain operations with unparalleled efficiency without the honed Mental Will a State Alchemist has.”

She pointed to the fist-sized sphere.

“Normally I would relish in giving a fellow State Alchemist a demonstration of this thing – I could only imagine the great strides your Alchemy could make in the Civil Energy Sector – but that will have to wait. It seems that the 203^rd will be joining you on the subjugation of the Gunja District of Ishvala. In a sense, I suppose we will be providing you the best live-fire demonstration possible.”

While his bespectacled friend did not seem all that happy, he was more than happy to see it in action. There was few things that made him happy – especially in this hellhole – than new advances in alchemy.

“I guess I should look forward to your results. The 12^th Division has been suffering heavily causalities making any headway in the region.”

The Mythril Alchemist gave them a smirk, but just like with the Lieutenant, Roy felt something fierce and predatory about it.

“I hope we don’t disappoint.”

---

November 21^st, 1908, Ruined Town Center, Gunja, Amestris – Hughes POV

It was happening again. The butcher of the Western Front had come East and was reaping a deadly harvest. What was worse was that she was done with “Tests” and “Experiments”. She had perfected her “Art” and spread its application to her Battalion. Looking at them act, he knew he was right when he first saw her. War as he knew it was over and something far more horrifying had taken its place.

Roy, Lieutenant Colonel Degurechaff and himself were sitting in the open on top of one of the few buildings left standing in the region. The thought of how exposed they were had the two Ishvalan Front veterans on edge, but standing behind the Mythril Alchemist, it was clear they were not in any danger.

A shot rang out and they all flinched as the tell-tale crack of a bullet embedded itself in a nearby wall. It was the third such shot in the past minute and Maes could not help but wonder what the sniper was thinking. Would he have acted the same way? Thinking that his shots were missing and not being deflected by this new form of alchemy?

The Mythril Alchemist began to talk on her radio.

“Pixie 2 and 3, the target is confirmed. The sniper is on the upper floors of the suspected building. Flush them out. Pixie 1 will cover the exits in case they get smart. Pixie-Actual to Gnome-Actual, we are operating in the 3-story building of area G1. Do not to fire on it or the suspected sniper. We have it covered.”

A male voice laughed on the radio in response.

[Gnome-Actual acknowledges Pixie-Actual. We’ll sit back and enjoy the fireworks.]

Even from a distance, it was clear what shape the battle was turning out to be. Explosions and gunfire rang out in the distance as the forms of people were blown out of the building or – in one case – hurled out. Down the street, he could see that the Ishvalans were realizing the severity of the situation and were rushing to regain control of the building. In response, 3 soldiers of the battalion held a defensive line at the intersection and shot at anything that moved.

“Scatter!”

“Flank right! Go, go, go!”

“Who are these guys?!”

“Just dump everything you have into them!”

He heard the Ishvalan voices in the distance yelling out their commands. While it might seem foolish, it was better to make your intentions clear to your squad and risk the enemy overhearing your strategy than it was to stay silent and disorganized. If their tactics were sound, then they would be attacking their enemy from all sides in an ambush and so making out which strategy was for which group would be impossible anyway. If the Ishvalans had radios, he might have a different opinion, but the Ishvlans were lucky to have working grenades, yet alone electronics.

Looking a the slaughter playing out before him, he realized the unsettling emotions that had been playing out when he first saw the weapon in action on the Western Front.

‘Looking back, I had a strange concept of “war” back on the Western Front. War is wrong… but both Creta and Amestris were suffering so it felt more “fair”; the war had ballooned beyond anyone’s control and no one was ultimately at fault. Obviously once the war was over, Amestris would do everything in its power to stop another war like that from ever happening again. It was so self-evident that not a single soldier I talked to felt any different.’

The new weapon that threw all those assumptions up in the air. The sight gave Maes an uncomfortable sense of dissonance; he felt relief in the knowledge that the war in the West and now in Ishval would soon be over; he felt horror in knowing that it was only the beginning.

‘I could never understand it: why would you ever fight a war? There’s no economic advantage: the equipment used in taking territory would never be recuperated by the newfound bombed-out ruins that were captured. Likewise, throwing thousands of men into a meatgrinder to gain a few thousand angry, spiteful partisans in return was clearly pointless. But then Mythril started picking off gun-emplacements from a distance with ease and now I can see how addicting war can be. With the Operation Orb, it just seems so… easy. Every soldier with one is a Platoon in themselves and everyone without one is just fodder. I can already imagine how the Brass might be looking at this. “How far can we push this? Can we take over our neighbors? The continent? The world?”’

Just as he finished that thought, so too did the 203^rd Battalion’s Pixie Platoon finished “mopping up” the G1 Sector. He knew from personal experience that the 300-man Company under his command would have taken 2 days and one-third causalities doing the same task that just 25 men did in less than an hour. Rather than his reaction the first time, he no longer felt sick from the death; he had seen far worse now. No, now he felt a vague sense of panic. If he did not figure out what the impact of this weapon was soon, he would be left on the sidelines of the new wars brewing on the horizon.

Lieutenant Colonel Degurechaff got off the radio after congratulating her subordinates on a job well done and turned to them.

“So, what do you think? I have tweaked the design you had seen before, Captain Hughes, but the results are not appreciably different. Considering the equipment of the rebels, my Battalion is not in much danger.”

Like himself, Roy did not seem disturbed by the sight of the new weapon in action. If anything, the Flame Alchemist looked intrigued.

“I have to admit, I am shocked by how effective a piece of silver could be. When you said ‘Alchemic Enhancer’, I regret that I initially brushed it off as yet another Philosopher’s Stone knock off. To think that it would be so capable… I feel like every soldier – or at least every State Alchemist – should have one. It is not uncommon for us to fall victim to sniper fire. I think I remember the Silver Alchemist himself being taken off the front lines for something similar.”

She nodded with delight. No doubt she thought Roy was simply praising her work. Maes knew his friend better than that. He was fishing for information and hoped that the Mythril Alchemist would let slip some potentially classified knowledge.

The child-like staff officer smiled up at them.

“Ah, I completely agree! What’s more, there are many peacetime applications in construction or factory work that I think would-”

The crack of the sniper once again had the three of them flinching as the bullet impacted the wall behind them. In the next instant, the 3^rd story of the last remaining tall building in the area detonated, sending chunks of clay and tile crashing around them.

The Lieutenant Colonel’s radio came to life with a burst of static.

[Sorry about that Lieutenant Colonel. Sucker got one last shot off before we could get to them. Guess they didn’t get the memo that the commander of the 203^rd is not taken out so easily.]

Various voices of laughter rang out in response. The commander in question chuckled amiably and shrugged.

“No problem Sergeant Vogt. Every shot on us is a shot not taken on the rest of the Division. Consider each hit a badge of honor.”

She turned to the two of them and shrugged in a “what can you do?” sort of way.

“Speaking of honor, I only just realized that my Battalion must be taking a lot of the glory away from the Brigade. It wouldn’t be right to hold you up any longer from making your own contributions. I’ll get back to my Platoon, but be sure to write if you have anything else you’d like to talk about. This conversation has been beneficial.”

She turned to Roy with a smirk.

“Also, feel free to put in a request with Central regarding an Operation Orb. I have it on good authority that anyone who can use them will be approved eventually. If enough requests come in, my value goes up. A win-win, wouldn’t you say?”

They saluted each other and she started running towards the last known position of the rest of her Platoon. No doubt to carry out some manner of unspeakable violence on the unsuspecting local population.

As Maes turned towards his friend, he was surprised to see that Roy was smiling.

“Well, I cannot fault her her love of alchemy. Reminds me of myself before the War.”

Major Mustang turned to him and something about how Maes was frustrated must have tipped him off that he did not agree with his assessment.

Roy shook his head in confusion.

“I’m serious. She has a certain charisma and she’s a child soldier, but I wouldn’t go so far as calling her a ‘monster’.”

At that moment Maes had an epiphany.

‘That’s why I was always feeling so unsettled around her… she’s too perfect. What’s more…’

He had to tell his friend, but he knew that Roy was far too boneheaded and stubborn to take him at his word. He would need to walk him through the process to coming to the same conclusion himself.

“That’s the insidious nature of it Roy. Let me ask you, what do you think the Lieutenant Colonel’s is like off the battlefield?”

The Flame Alchemist looked at his friend incredulously and smirked.

“I think someone might be a little jealous-”

Maes cut him off. This was not to be some “heart-to-heart” between friends. This was serious. This was something that could affect Roy’s chance at being Fürer.

“Answer the damn question, Roy!”

Roy was – understandably – shocked by his change of tone. However, they had been around each other on the battlefield to go through plenty of mood-swings with each other. Instead of trying to calm him down or continue joking around, Roy just nodded his head and took things seriously.

“Okay, okay. She likes talking shop. I suppose she’s an alchemist through-and-through.”

‘Just what I thought.’

Maes nodded his head.

“Exactly. That is what you would think. Now think back. What did her subordinate say?”

The Major made a show of thinking: closing his eyes and tilting his head to one side.

“If I remember right, the 1^st Lieutenant mentioned that she was a born commander.”

Now Maes gestured to himself.

“And what did I think of her? Before I called her a monster, that is. I spent a month with her every day eating breakfast, lunch and supper with her.”

Roy rolled his eyes.

“I have a feeling you’re going to tell me.”

Obviously the question was rhetorical, but it was just like Roy to get a word in edgewise. Maes bit down his frustration and continued.

“I thought ‘Man, this kid really reminds me of my cousin. Maybe there’s something off, but she’s pretty cute.’ I think that was the real gut punch when that cute kid started butchering enemy soldiers.”

Roy clenched his fist in frustration.

“I get it Hughes, I do. It’s wrong. Seeing a tiny child order around a Battalion to kill Ishvalans like so many toys in a playroom? It’s sick. But that’s the military, damn it. No price has ever been too high for power. You know that.”

Maes took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose in frustration.

“You’re not getting it. I’m not talking about the military. Think! You’re defending her. Why?”

Roy raised an eyebrow.

“She’s a fellow State Alchemist, of course I would-”

“So is Solf Kimblee! Why haven’t you defended his brand of insanity?”

Roy was caught off-guard by the comparison.

“That’s… come on Maes, that’s different. Lieutenant Colonel Degurechaff’s thinking about the peacetime applications of her Alchemy. She’s nothing like that psychopath; she still has hope for the future. I don’t want to be the part of the military that destroys that piece of her.”

Maes shook his head and gestured to the ruined cityscape around them.

“You’re still caught up in the conversation you just had. Look at her actions. If she cares so much about the peacetime applications, why did she make a weapon first.”

Unlike his last suggestion, it seemed like Roy was thinking a bit more deeply now.

‘Finally, come on Roy, don’t make the same mistake I made months ago. This isn’t just some ordinary child-soldier here.’

After a few moments, Roy shook his head.

“I don’t know. Perhaps her research couldn’t get funding and the Military is always favored over the Civil sector.”

Maes rolled his eyes.

“Come on, you can do better than that. Her Orb is miraculous Roy; she could have received funding by anyone for that. But let’s ignore that for a moment. More important than her research is the fact that she doesn’t need to be on the front lines at all. She didn’t even need to be a State Alchemist. You can work for military research or make weapons without any of that. You don’t become one unless you have something you’re working towards. You joined because you wanted to help the nation, right? Well, if she really is so smart, why isn’t she sitting in a comfortable lab working 2 hours a day and living off the royalties? What’s her goal?”

Roy’s eyes widened.

“She needs the military for something…? No, she’s just a kid. She doesn’t… but the military does.”

Maes gave his friend an exaggerated nod.

“Brilliant deduction. And now you’ve come around to my realization 3 months ago. Of course, that’s only the tip of the iceberg. At first, I thought she might just be a sucker like we were: she joined because she bought the propaganda and the military was using her for their own ends.”

He shook his head.

“Until now. She’s too good. The perfect commander, the perfect alchemist, the perfect conversationalist. She always shows her ‘best side’ and if you aren’t looking at the bigger picture, you end up trusting and defending her. But between talking with her three months ago, then with her subordinate, then now; well, it was like talking about three different ‘Tanya Degurechaffs’. The curious child, the born commander and the passionate alchemist, each persona carefully crafted to fit the situation.”

Captain Maes Hughes then put on his best “serious face” he could. His last argument was a bit of a stretch, but if it was true, he would find some evidence soon enough.

“But where did all this come from? You know what the education system is like for orphans, Roy. You broke out of it and became a State Alchemist thanks in no small part to Riza’s father, but it’s not exactly conducive to creating well-rounded child prodigies. Now, I want to ask if her background reminds you of anyone. She’s a child soldier, someone without parents who raised quickly though the ranks. Someone martially strong, cunning and charismatic who became a Staff Officer before most people entered the academy.”

Judging by the horror that appeared on Roy’s face, they were thinking the same thing.

“The Fürer. What you’re saying is King Bradley wasn’t a fluke?! He was manufactured… designed to be the perfect leader. He was a ward of the military and then his aggressive expansionism… Could he have been raised by some cabal in Military High Command? But my goal…”

That was why Maes could not let this conversation go unsaid. He nodded.

“If what I’m saying is true, then your goal just got a lot harder. If there’s any proof, I’ll find it. You can count on that, but this isn’t just any conspiracy theory I spun out of thin-air either. King Bradley’s getting on in years, so how convenient would it be that his successor is ready and waiting in the wings for him to retire.”

Roy shook his head and sat down. The Flame Alchemist looked like he aged ten years over the course of the conversation. Looking away, he put his head in his hands.

“She’s already at a higher rank, Maes. What are we going to do? I thought we’d have time.”

Maes grabbed his shoulder and gave him a small smile.

“So she has an edge? So what? It was always the plan to rule Amestris as soon as possible; so what if the plan’s been shifted ahead a little. You’re not out yet, are you, Roy?”

The Major clenched his fists and looked back at him, a hardness returning to his eyes.

“No, it just means we need to play things a little closer to our chest than I’d expected. Will make things a lot harder; might have to call in all of our favors just to survive.”

He stood up and made his way to the door.

“When this war’s over, I think I’ll be introducing you to the family. I think you and Aunt Christmas should swap stories, really network. ”

He shook his head and made his way out the door. As Maes went to follow him out, he could just make out a few last words under his breath.

“I hate having to owe Auntie anything, but I think she’ll let things slide… this time.”

Chapter Text

November 26^th, 1908, Ruined Northern Sector, Gunja, Amestris – Visha POV

In the first mission a month ago, the 203^rd had been relatively silent and tried to focus on the next objective and the mission: they could hardly breathe when the entire front and the future of Amestris was at stake. On their subsequent mission in Gunja a few days earlier, they had tried to have some light banter and comments about the enemy or the way the battle was going. Still, it felt forced; they had no problems with laughing and talking about their day when in their barracks, but for their elite team, it all felt superficial. There had been no “banter” when their commander brutally trained them in the frozen mountains north of Riviere.

Now no one said much, they did not have to.

Visha had spoken with the soldiers under her command and the leaders of the other Platoons and they all agreed that there was not much need to fill their radios with idle chatter or quips to make up for nerves or dead air. The Battalion was disciplined, organized, and efficient and the communication only worked to undermine that by making things more difficult for people needing updates or support. Every one of them wanted to give their 110% to the Lieutenant Colonel and if the pointless talk made them even 1% less effective, it was too much.

More importantly, it made Lieutenant Colonel Degurechaff more hesitant to issue commands, and no one in the unit dared to interfere with their commander’s ability to lead.

As such – except for status updates or orders from their Commander – the radio was silent.

[Battalion, this is Gnome. Cleared sector G13 until crossroads. Holding for orders.]

[Battalion, this is Scroll. Held the G21 critical point against assault. 348^th Rifle is holding. Will continue with clearing G20.]

[Battalion, this is Silver. No changes to report. Our supply lines have still not been attacked. Will continue until relieved by the 354 ^th Cavalry as ordered.]

Next to Visha, the Commander nodded with a smile on her face.

“Alright, Gnome, your orders are to push into G20 from the north. G13 was an easy clear and if the enemy is foolish enough to try and take it again… all the better. Silver, you are approaching an area the 354^th was ambushed yesterday. Have a team take point as bait and try to lure or scout the enemy in case they try again. Scroll, continue as planned and link up with Gnome. Understood?”

[Yes Commander!]

Visha let out a brilliant smile. She knew her decision to keep idle talk to a minimum was the right one.

‘Ever since then, Tanya’s been really taking charge and organizing us into a ruthless fighting force! Our progress in taking Gunja has increased by more than 100% since we started! Sure, the enemy is not the “peer adversary” – as the Commander would put it – like the chimera we faced on our first mission, but the experience is still important. By quickly taking control of the area from the enemy and bolstering our nearby allied forces, we are using less “Mental Willpower” than normal. We can then save our strength for the potential big threats like the Ishvalan Combat Monks or-’

A shot rang out and a soldier from the 412^th Rifle Company that was accompanying them fell in a pool of blood. While the rest of the soldiers of the company jumped behind buildings and into cover, the 203^rd Pixie Platoon stayed in the open and surveyed the area on the lookout for the threat.

‘-Or the occasional sniper.’

Visha turned to the Commander.

“Orders?”

Tanya looked around at the confusion and panic of their supporting Battalion and sighed. She got on the radio.

“Pixie-4 and 5, keep holding down the north-eastern ring road. You’ll be seeing the enemy falling back that way soon. Pixie-3. Keep those rebels suppressed in the east. Pixie-2 will cover the rear while our Pixie-1 and 6 will swing down from the south and flank them.”

The crack of a rifle sounded again in the distance and she saw several members of the 412^th to her east start a panicked retreat down the road behind her. Tanya shook her head and turned to Visha.

“The sniper must be in the building west of the intersection: its the only point that could have made that last shot. That sniper is going to cause the collapse of our supporting Company at this rate… No choice, use a Destroy.”

With a smile and a nod, the 1 ^st Lieutenant did as she was ordered. She took out her new Karabiner 98 and took aim through the 4x optical scope. With a single pull of the trigger, the entire top of the building was obliterated.

However, the moment she did so, eight strong-looking Ishvalans in robes rushed out from the alleyways around them! A trap! She heard Tanya yell out.

“Close! Close!”

It was a simple command, but anything more complicated would have only caused more to confuse than help. At Tanya’s yell, the nearby soldiers all ran away. They knew what was going to happen next.

Next to her, Visha could see in the corner of her eyes that Tanya had just pulled the pins on two grenades and threw them at the rapidly approaching enemy. At the same time, the other three nearby members of Pixie-1 threw grenades as well, only these were practically at their own feet. Without any time to react, Visha did not have time to do the same, instead, she played the secondary role of the maneuver. She threw her rifle onto her back and took out her machinegun, but she was a little too slow to fire it in time.

Instead – all at once – explosions rocked the alleyway, blanketing the area in thick dust, but it did not stop there. Now, Visha finally fired her machinegun into the clouds as more grenades were thrown and detonated. By the time that the third round of grenades exploded, she could feel the nearby buildings collapse. After about a minute, they stopped and they waited for any movement or sound. Another tension-filled minute passed and the smoke began to clear.

Now they could see the results of their new training in Close-Quarters-Combat. The ruined corpses of the 8 monks filled the street. In contrast, they had not suffered a single casualty as they simply used their Deflect as normal. With the grenades sending shrapnel and debris everywhere, the monks had no chance closing in on them. Normally, they could dodge around the machinegun fire or throw back the grenades, but they were afforded no opportunity for either. Either they kept their distance and lost the opportunity of surprise and were either killed by reinforcements at the flanks or machine gun fire from inside the smoke, or they were obliterated by the grenades they would be need to rush into to reach them.

Tanya smiled and turned to Visha.

“Well, I think that concludes another successful “trial” of the “Close-In Maneuver”, don’t you think?”

She grinned in response.

“Yes Commander! They’re a month late in trying to catch us off guard!”

As they laughed, the soldiers of the 412^th Rifle Battalion started slowly returning. Considering the circumstances, while Visha felt a little guilty for having the constantly rushing for cover, at the same time, they should be glad the 203^rd was on their side.

---

November 27^th, 1908, 94^th Brigade Forward Operating Base, Gunja, Amestris – Tanya POV

Tanya sat at a fold-out chair and desk in her tent, writing requisition requests for her Battalion as well as organizing the next round of offensives. As the only Staff Officer in the Battalion, the one in charge of maintenance and R&D of the Operation Orb, as well as a front line soldier, she was burdened with triple-duties and had to spend her precious time off trying to catch up on her paperwork. At least she was banking up a rather healthy sum of funds she would no doubt be investing once these back-to-back wars were over.

The 203 ^rd was finally relieved from active duty after almost a week of intense fighting. Tanya had the “luxury” of a cold shower, a fresh uniform and a full night’s sleep. With a fresh cup of coffee made by her Adjutant, she was refreshed and ready to take on the day again.

While the work was tough, it had never felt more rewarding. Unlike the Western Front or their first mission, the goals were straightforwards, the missions were reasonable and – most importantly – there was no risk of sudden foreign wunderwaffe to contend with the Operation Orb’s absolute supremacy on the battlefield. Their work – and the lives of their fellow countryman they saved – was limited only by the number of hours a day they could use the Orb; a number that got larger and larger as she developed new tactics and procedures.

‘I’m just glad the Battalion stopped being so cavalier and casual about everything. While it is important to stay optimistic, would it be so hard for these warmongers to have a little introspection? A War – especially a Civil War – is a failure. It is a failure of forethought by the leaders, a failure of unity by society, and a failure of compromise by the instigators. I wish my subordinates would at least point out the glaring issues with this conflict: about the wasted resources, the tactics, the politics, anything. I know there is nothing we can do, but it is also no good for them to completely dehumanize their enemy. I hope they aren’t thinking situations like these are normal.’

She was no robot and she was certainly no warmonger. She had her reservations about the war and why it was still being fought. About her place in everything and the responsibility she had as a citizen. That being said, she was not someone who advocated “peace at all costs” either. It was clear to her that Amestris was forming similar to Imperial Japan or Germany: surrounded by enemies and with factions eager to see war as the “hammer” for every socioeconomic “nail”.

‘Now that this war has gone on for so long, it’s too late to stop. Too many Amestrians have died for the people to compromise. For the Ishvalans, it’s clearly a matter of survival made only more heinous by the fact that they are boxed in by mountains or desert. Refugees fleeing are just as likely to die in the effort than escape. Could I even help the Ishvalans? Could I rebel against the incompetence of the State that allowed this to happen? No. To aid the weakened Ishvalans is just to condemn more Amestrian soldiers to death and to fuel the nations hatred even more and scapegoat myself in the process. That is what’s so heinous about war; why there are rules: it can feed on charity just as much as it does on violence, on good intentions and bad. And even the concept of rebelling against the nation that has given me so much-’

She shook her head. She had been having more of these uncharacteristically anti-estabilishmentarian thoughts lately, but it just left her thinking in circles. Fundamentally, she trusted in a rational society to maintain itself, but what if the system itself was flawed? How can someone from inside such a system fix it without causing more damage in the process?

‘I need to take a walk.’

She stood up from the desk and walked out of the tent. As she did so, she gave a nod to her Adjutant who sat just outside and under the shade of the extended flap that protruded out of the entrance-way. As she did so, the 1 ^st Lieutenant made to stand.

“Lieutenant Colonel, are you-”

Tanya waved away her question.

“I’m just going for a walk. Sorry, but you will have to man the post while I’m gone in case anyone has messages or requests.”

Her Adjutant smiled and gave her a crisp salute.

“Of course, I would be honored! I’m glad you’re not organizing our operations all day like you used to. It isn’t right for the Battalion to monopolize all of your time. You should do what you want.”

Tanya frowned.

‘What does she mean by that? It’s my job to- Ah, I couldn’t recognize it since we normally have such a good relationship. She must be sarcastic and thinking I’m just skimping out on work! All the stress and effort planning for that first suicidal mission must have set a precedent that I have to work 12 hours a day with no rest or else I am not giving my all. Damn, I have to nip this in the bud or I will never have any time to myself.’

Tanya shook her head.

“The Battalion will always be the number one priority for so long as I am in charge. You can rest assured that I intend to do whatever I can to avoid any more causalities or deaths in the future. This walk is just a means of gaining a different perspective with a change in scenery. I promise that I will be thinking through a number of strategies and tactics as I do. Don’t worry, I’m always working, even if I don’t always look like I am.”

Viktoriya Serebryakova frowned.

“That’s not what I… well alright. Have a good walk. I hope that between your strategies you are able to relax a little.”

Tanya nodded in response. While she was not confident her subordinate did not pick up on her ruse, she was at least confident that her reputation as an adequate commander was still intact.

‘I’ll have to be more careful from now on. I’ll need to slowly reign in their expectations or I’ll never get any rest!’

As she walked through the base, she tried to familiarize herself with the people there. There was little joy in the camp as one would expect. Some men were playing cards, some men took the time off to rest while others sat in small circles talking with one-another. None of them looked very happy to be there, but these were the people she was fighting to project. It was sad that she needed this reminder of what this war was being fought for. While there could no longer be any compromise between Ishval and Amestris, there was still an opportunity to save the human resources here before their value was wasted by the shortsightedness of the State.

‘Perhaps when I am promoted enough to be safely back in the rear, I can do something to make sure a war like this never happens again…’

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a familiar face storm out from one of the social-circles. It was Major Mustang, Captain Hughes and an unfamiliar female soldier. She walked towards him, but the group moved in the opposite direction faster than she could match and she decided to give up on saying hi. He probably had some place to be.

She immediately felt guilty, she too had a tent to sit in and important documents to process.

Before she turned around and made her way back, however, she saw one more familiar face.

“Major Kimblee, is that you?”

---

November 27^th, 1908, 94^th Brigade Forward Operating Base, Gunja, Amestris – Kimblee POV

Major Solf J. Kimblee – the Crimson Alchemist – watched as Roy, Maes and Riza left in frustration after their conversation with him. It was inevitable. As soon as he pointed out their hypocrisy, they could only run away with their tails between their legs.

‘It’s understandable. Really, I empathize with them… well, as much as I can comprehend the emotions of naive “conformists”. Their lofty “goals” and “aspirations” are borne of a hatred for the Rules of Nature: Survival of the Fittest, Might makes Right. Inevitably they encounter contradictions and overcomplicate the simple facts of life. Right, wrong, good, bad? The answers are obvious: they’re whatever I want them to be. If I want to kill someone, the only thing stopping me is if doing so will get me killed in return. Why make things more complicated than that?’

Of course, the Crimson Alchemist was no longer a boy. He no longer killed the small, “pitiful” animals in the forest near his home or indulged his base needs in excess like a kid given free reign in a candy store. He was intelligent and resourceful. He worked, and studied and found new, more exciting ways to kill. He found new hobbies and new philosophies and grew into a hedonist that savored a delicious “steak” rather than a starving mutt that gorged on “potatoes” to survive.

He methodically chose his career and painstakingly searched for superiors that appreciated his “skills” and let him indulge when he wanted. His efforts had paid off. Only a few hours earlier; the State gave him something he only thought was just a legend: the Philosopher’s Stone. He had his doubts about how capable it truly was – nothing could live up to the legends – but while the Generals and Doctors were sometimes boastful, they rarely outright lied. He itched to test out the quality and quantity of explosions he could make with it.

‘Damn, when will that stupid bell sound to send me back to the frontlines?! Normally, the Top Brass are so eager to have us fighting and killing one-another, so what is the hold up for-’

He turned and saw the slowly approaching form of a child. A smile bloomed on his face. The stern expression that did not fit the soft, pudgy features of a child was like looking a younger version of himself.

‘Ah, well if it isn’t my favorite heretic. Ah, and she’s a Lieutenant Colonel now? It seems I was right; she’s far better at pretending than I am. A certain… patience, no doubt. She actually can tolerate the absurdities of conformist bastards. I couldn’t do it; too much paperwork and sycophancy. I prefer that all of my problems can be solved with the liberal use of extreme violence.’

As she approaches, Crimson gave the younger Alchemist a smirk and a half-hearted salute.

“Mythril, I was wondering when the military’s secret weapon would finally arrive in Ishval. Congratulations on the promotion. I hope you don’t mind if I skip the ‘sirs’. Feels strange enough saluting a child.”

‘Which is a lie, of course. I’m more than happy to give pointless gestures to authority if it means getting my way. However, many things can… change in a few months. It would not be the first time I met someone I thought was a like-minded heretic only to turn into a conformist toady at the first taste of power. If she becomes someone who would demand my respect just because of a rank or two, it would be best if I kept my distance.’

Tanya smiled and shook her head.

“You are too kind Major Kimblee and I don’t mind at all. It is just a single rank and we’ve worked closely in the past. It’s good to have someone as reliable as yourself at my back.”

‘So she hasn’t changed… but I can’t let my guard down just yet. How was she able to fool everyone into thinking she’s worthy of more authority? Do they not see it? The cynical ruthlessness; the cold pragmatism that underlines her every decision? If it meant getting one step closer to her goal, she would burn Amestris to the ground and personally butcher every person in her way… though she might give some token apology for being “forced” to do so. Its one of those strange proclivities of hers that just make me more interested in what makes her tick.’

A few months prior, they had spent just a single week together working on the final design of her project. At first, he hated it. Every moment with her was a moment he was not creating explosive death on the battlefield. However, in just that short period of time, she had enraptured him in a way no other human being could. While it was clear they were not on the same page on many things – her obsession with rules for one – they were far too alike for him to put her in the same category with the rest of humanity. If he had anything to compare it to, he might even consider her a friend. Impossibly – for the first time in his life – he found someone he enjoyed spending time with.

He smiled at her, glad to find something worthwhile to distract him from the lack of combat.

“It will be good to have you here as well, if you’re even half as capable as the reports say. More than your martial successes, I would say our discussions are far more personally enjoyable. Far better than the other Alchemists I’ve had the displeasure of talking to.”

She nodded and eyed him curiously.

“I noticed you were talking to the Flame Alchemist earlier? What were you talking about that has you so disappointed?”

He shook his head in exasperation.

‘Well, this is as good as any for a final test. What does she think of me if I let down the mask for a little bit?’

“He seems to have the strange opinion that soldiers are not simply tools for violence. That we shouldn’t be killing former Amestrian citizens in this war.”

Much to his delight, Lieutenant Colonel Degurechaff nodded in agreement.

“You’re right, that is strange; Major Mustang seemed more interested in Alchemy than the war when I talked to him so I’m surprised he would care about any of that. Still, while I can understand his frustration, I have to question his logic. The army is the State’s branch dedicated to violence. Soldiers are not trained like police to maintain order or as detectives to investigate crimes. The violence perpetrated on the Ishvalan people is the will of the State and the people have not indicated their opinion to the contrary. I can look at this war as the massive waste of resources it is, but that’s not something that can be fixed by wishful thinking.”

He laughed.

‘Exactly as I remember! How wonderful it is to find a like-minded individual! No need to hold back.’

“Exactly! Doctors heal, soldiers destroy, alchemists create. I don’t understand why everyone needlessly complicates things. Humans are best when they give their utmost to what they desire. Speaking of which, I heard a lot of my alchemy on the battlefield yesterday. It is such a wonderful surprise to experience such refined explosions in the distance. Normally I want to stay close to feel the full effect, but I have found that I appreciate the subtle nuances the distance can provide. I hope you do not mind that I took a little peak at your Battalion. They really are as strong as the reports suggest. Deflecting bullets, controlling large swaths of the battlefield at once. You can be proud of the lethal weapons you have at your disposal. Ah, if only I could get others to follow me as you can. Nevertheless, seeing the results, I assume that you worked out all the quirks with your weapon, Tanya?”

She looked down at the Silver Orb on her chest.

“Yes, the ‘Destroy’ operation we worked on together now performs flawlessly with a little change to the materials used. It has already saved my life. I honestly cannot thank you enough for all the work you put into helping the project. I know you were ordered, but you have gone above and beyond what was required.”

He messed with her hair. The child grumbled in annoyance but otherwise did not chide him for it. He chuckled at how cute the little murderer could be.

“Don’t think too hard about it kid. I got plenty in return. Your very unorthodox approach to alchemy inspired a few modifications of my own.”

Kimblee took off his gloves to reveal his newly tattooed hands. On his left palm was the half-moon in a top-pointed triangle and the right palm was the symbol of the sun with a bottom-pointed triangle. This had not changed. However, writing now made its way along his fingers from his palms. On his fingertips, he had etched a variety of circles and triangles which roughly mimicked the dynamic circles that he had worked with Mythril to produce,

He gave her a fierce grin, showing his canines.

“Until now, I had always used these hands to create explosions in the moment. To draw out the latent potential of alchemy into an instant of pure violence. However, you showed to me another aspect to my artistry I had not considered.”

He bent down to pick up a small fist-sized rock from the ground nearby. Based on its size, it probably once formed a piece of one of the nearby houses. He smirked at the irony of using structure for the demonstration. He quickly slammed his hands around the object and the signature sparks of electric alchemic transmutation response shot out. Casually, he tossed it into a nearby died-up ravine.

Then he waited, 30-seconds, then a minute passed with nothing happening. Then with the snap of a finger, the rock exploded.

The Mythril Alchemist tilted her head in confusion and thought.

“Ah, a time-delayed explosion? No, your finger-snap caused it to explode. You stored a reference or ‘flag’ in the stone and remotely connected to it.”

He smiled and gave a small bow.

“You’re always full of insights. Rather than creating the instability in my hands, or remotely through the ground, I can store the energy for later. It goes away eventually – something so unstable cannot last – but to keep the audience in suspense? To never know when their time will end? Ah, what a thrill!”

She shrugged away his “eccentricity”.

“I can’t quite appreciate your fascination with explosions, but I suppose I don’t need to. So long as you signal yourself as a productive member of society in the appropriate settings, it isn’t anyone’s business. Speaking of which, have you thought about what we talked about last time?”

He gave her a soft smile.

‘Yes, our little conversation about philosophy. Unlike me, it seemed like she was somehow born a heretic. That she could grow up to hide it so well was bound to have her formulate a number of fascinating ideas.’

“’Signaling Theory’ right? I have to admit, I never thought about it that way, but you’re right. Until now, I just did it naturally: to hide my heresy behind a mask of conformity, but it is interesting to put the concept into words. For you to think about this so much, what was the word you had? Oraku? No, Otaku. You called me an ‘Explosion Otaku’, but you are a bit of a ‘Rules Otaku’ yourself. It only makes sense that a child who volunteered to be a soldier would have certain proclivities.”

She grumbled underneath her breath for a moment then looked up at him with a roll of her eyes.

“I didn’t quite volunteer and you don’t have to make it out like I am some kind of deviant. We all have our struggles to fit in, some of us just need to try a bit harder than others. I assure you that deep down, I do my utmost to make good use of human resources to build the foundations of an efficient society where one is valued by their contributions and not superficial things ignorant people would call ‘disorders’.”

He looked back at the “Alchemy Research” building in the distance with a wistful sigh. He could almost hear the screams of the dying from here.

‘Human Resources, huh? She said something like that before. I had assumed she was speaking metaphorically, but my recent conversations with the Top Brass and Doctor Marco frames things in a whole new light. If the military isn’t quite as ignorant as I thought, perhaps she was let in on a few of these secrets like I was.’

Being careful not to let anyone else see, he took out the small red crystal from his pocket. He could feel a tingling sensation of the Stone on his fingers. His hands vibrated subtly with a rapturous energy. He could barely contain himself from using it right in that instant. He looked down at the child and held the Philosopher's Stone before her.

“I was starting to wonder where you got the idea when we talked about this before. So you are in on it too?”

She raised an eyebrow at him.

“In on what? What does that rock have to do with it?”

He put it away as quickly as he took it out. He could still feel it burning a metaphorical hole in his pocket.

‘Maybe she investigated on her own or they’re feeling her out for now? It’s too early to say, but I should give her a little hint. It would be a shame for the only person I’ve ever given a damn about in this world were to die from ignorance.’

He shook his head and chuckled.

“I don’t think I need to tell you this since you’ve already been promoted, but the government is not quite a stickler for rules as yourself. If you’re ever confronted by the State asking you to do something you don’t like, just play along. They have eyes and ears everywhere and won’t hesitate to use it against you.”

She rolled her eyes.

“You don’t have to tell me. Half the reason I’m here is because of the Fürer.”

‘So maybe she is involved. Damn you Tanya… do you tease me with these non-specifics on purpose, or do you have some other goal? Ah, I suppose it doesn’t matter. I will-’

At that moment, the sound of bells chimed in the distance.

‘Finally! As much as it is a joy to talk with Tanya, my true life’s passion awaits!’

“It’s time to go. Good luck. I have my purpose as an instrument of violence to resume.”

She smiled.

“Myself as well. As fellow productive members of society, I can only hope our paths cross again soon.”

As he walked off in the other direction and towards his unit in the distance, he felt himself standing a little taller and a little happier with the orders he had been given to invade the Kanda region.

‘It’s really unfortunate that I have to pay that pair of doctors a “housecall”, but so long as there are still people like Tanya out there in the world, removing a few potential heretics doesn’t seem so wrong.’

---

November 27^th, 1908, Makeshift Field Hospital, Kanda, Ishval – Scar POV

As a monk, the Man Without A Name was accustomed to pain and hardship. He had fasted for months for the Sacrament of Earth, living on just one sip of water and a bite of unleavened bread a day. He stood for days in the various Forms during his training, reciting the scriptures until his legs burned with strain and his voice grew hoarse. He never quit, not when he walked with the Desert Caravans without sandals, or went on pilgrimage to the Holy Sites with nothing but the clothes on his back, relying on the charity of strangers just to survive the journey.

He had never felt pain like now.

While the physical pain hurt, it was a spiritual anguish that left him crying out like a newborn child confused at the absence of their mother. It was like a deep scar on his soul. As with the Apostle Vula making pilgrimage to the Desert Oasis of Tul Alah, his mind tried desperately to make sense of the trials Ishvala had forced upon him. Unlike that apostle, he had no time to come to terms with his mutilation.

It was no quick thing either, but a wound that had festered since the start of the Civil War. For every hour he recited the Three-Hundred Psalms and Sixteen Sutras, he spent days hunting Amestrian soldiers and failing to adequately clean the blood from his hands. For every moment he had to prayer, he had dozens seeing woman garbed in mourning clothes in cemeteries that could no longer fit the dead, crying over pits with dead stacked to be buried en masse like so much garbage. They were the lucky ones. Most could only cry at home; their loved ones having been burned by the Amestrians or left to rot in the desert sun as food for crows and vultures.

Like filth, the sights and sounds of the carnage built within him for years, burdening his every thought and action. There was no guilt, no hesitation or frustration with his solemn duty to rid the godless invaders from their blasphemous genocide. And yet, he could feel himself change; the carefully honed emotional distance and purity within his soul stained by the death, hatred and madness of war. Until now, he had contained it. He fell back on the camaraderie of fellow monks, in the domestic – if strained – relationship with his wayward brother.

Then it all came crashing down.

‘My arm, brother I-’

He awoke and saw his brothers arm and sighed.

‘Thank Ishvala that he-’

He moved to grab that hand, but his bothers arm responded like his own. Confused, he looked down at his own right arm, but could only see his brothers arm there. In that moment, the scars on his soul and on his body merged into one and the red hue of his eyes bled into his vision.

“WHAT IS THIS?!”

He screams, looking around to he people around him. In his eyes, reality or illusions played out, but he did not take a moment to question it. He saw the Alchemist and Amestrians who murdered his people all around him. He grabbed a nearby knife and swung at them.

“Argh!”

“Who are-?”

“Major Kimblee we’ve got a problem-”

The soldier fell, the others began to turn his way, their guns pointed at him, but they were too slow. While he was wounded, his carefully trained body had more than enough rest. It could fight for as long as he was still breathing.

He ducked under the rifle of one man and sliced through his neck. Using him as cover, the corpse absorbed two shots from another soldier before the monk barreled into him and crashing into a third man. With two quick stabs, they were both dead. He turned and saw him. The man from his nightmare; a nightmare that was becoming more real by the moment. The State Alchemist who murdered his brother.

“You!”

The murderer looked shocked.

“What the hell is going on? This clinic was supposed to be cleared of-”

The Alchemist was cut off when he was forced to dodge a swing of his blade. It narrowly missed, but the monk kept in range. He swung several more times, each closer than the last in reaching its mark. The State Alchemist tried to kick him, but failed to connect. However, it bought them some distance.

“Get away from me believer!”

The man brought his hands together and the building around him exploded and fell on him. He felt pressure all around him and the gloating laugh of the monster above. He thought he was about to die, but as he held his right arm up to grab hold of the rubble, his arm glowed with blue-white energy and the rubble before him turned to dust.

Just like that, he was once again face to face with the alchemist who killed his brother and he did not hesitate to press the surprising encounter.

“Argh!”

The alchemist recoiled as the knife finally struck home. It sliced the palm of the mans hand, causing blood to spill across the ground. The madman grabbed a red stone hanging around his neck and in a flash of red energy, his wound was healed. However, he attempted to put his hands together, but the damage must have changed something. The surroundings did not explode like before. Instead, the Alchemist was shocked and looked down at his hands.

Then the Monk saw it, the fear in the mans eyes for just a fleeting moment before the Alchemist turned-tail and fled into an alleyway.

Realizing that he had somehow neutralized the vile magic of his brother’s killer, he seized the advantage. He rushed after him, jumping over piles of rubble and running through the desolate streets. It was slow, but he began to close the distance. He knew that once the alchemist was out of the narrow pathways and rubble-filled streets, he would be able to outrun him in the open and finally bring justice to his brother’s killer.

Just as he was gaining on him, he felt a pain in his side.

“Argh!”

He collapsed. He turned down to notice blood beginning to fall from around his chest and pool on the ground. His vision grew blurry and his eyes strained to look for the man who just moments ago was in reach. He grabbed his chest and noticed his brothers book – which had been there and which his brother had entrusted to him – was now wet with his blood. Without thinking, he took it out and gripped it in his hands.

‘I-I’m sorry brother… I could not…’

He could not speak and struggled to breathe. He stabbed the knife he held in his other hand into the ground. Desperately, he tried using it to inch forwards even a little bit more. He needed to find that man. He knew that if he did not kill him now, he might never have another chance.

“Kill…Kimblee…Alchemist…Amestris…”

He could not go on. Darkness crept at the edges of his vision.

It would be another day before he would awake. By then, the Alchemist Kimblee, the Amestrian soldiers, and Ishval as he knew it would all be gone.

---

November 27^th, 1908, Town Outskirts, Kanda, Amestris – Shan POV

Shan narrowed her eye as she struggled to look at the man in front of her in the darkness. An explosion from the Alchemist known as “Crimson” had taken her left eye which was now covered by a crude bandage.

‘I was already having a hard time seeing things, and I need to walk with a cane now… I’ve turned into my mother. I never thought I would see the day I finally “got old”.’

The man gestured to her group and gave her a shallow bow, his right hand covering his heart in respect.

“Revered Elder, are you the last ones?”

The rough-looking man was a guard for the merchant caravan and carried a rifle that looked more rust than metal. He seemed desperate to leave. It was a feeling Shan shared.

Shan had once been willing to live and die in the town of her birth, a town in which she once shared a last name… but which no longer felt appropriate. She had been too stubborn, and had not fled with the others when she had the chance. She felt it was the best choice, both for herself and her people. When the attacks came and the injured poured in, she had used her knowledge as a healer to help where she could: using local remedies that improved clotting, numbed pain or sanitized wounds. It was not much, but it kept some of the lightly wounded soldiers and monks from infection and quickly brought them back onto the ever-encroaching front lines.

‘I hated it. This duty as a leader. To look at the strong but naive faces of our youngest and most capable believers and sending them to their deaths… but what other choice was there? We had tried peace. We tried compromise and diplomacy and every time the Amestrians just got angrier and more violent. If our people are to die no matter what… at least let the choice land on my old bones.’

As penance, she had tried to heal and take care of the weak as best she could. She looked to her six companions. They were all that remained after the makeshift clinic in the heart of the town was attacked by Amestrian soldiers and the alchemist that destroyed her eye. They were lucky that an Ishvalan Monk who had been unconscious at the time flew into a rage and killed the lot of them before they could do the same to them. She would be forever in the debt of that scarred man and hoped that – like all their people – he would find some manner of peace in the bosom of Ishvala once these trials were over.

She looked back at the guard and nodded.

“It is just the seven of us… But the attack by the Amestrians just ended. There might still be some people left in-”

The man shook his head and pointed to the top of one of the nearby hills.

“I’m sorry, but even if you were to order it, we can’t risk a search party… we’ve someone up there and they’ve sighted another Amestrian patrol. The patrol won’t leave until morning and if we don’t leave now… I probably don’t need to tell you, but our food situation is not the best.”

She nodded sadly. Their group was able to scrounge up enough dried food to last for 2 weeks, but their trip through the desert to Aerguo would take longer than that. What’s more, they were the lucky ones; most would have arrived with only the clothes on their back. Between eating berries and animals in the wild, they might survive, but every moment waiting would mean either traveling through the desert during the day or wasting their valuable food. It was a terrible decision that no one should make.

‘But I’ve made worse decisions, and it is only what I deserve. I could have met my end today; I was sure of it. In my hubris I decided the time and manner of my death against the plans of Holy Ishvala and I have been punished. Ishvala could have tortured me with debilitating pain or left me crippled and useless while others took care of my every need, but – as always – God is merciful. I have been given a more fitting sentence: to take care of the remains of my people in exile. I will keep them together and focused away from thoughts of self-sacrificing vengeance. Some day, we will return and rebuild the homeland… probably long after I’m gone. But I will keep them strong. As with the Prophet Vershad and the nomadic founders of Ishval: “We flee the darkness and the screams of the multitude of Xerxes. Until our flesh is ruined and our bones ground to dust, we keep Ishvala in our hearts, until a land can be found where the Voice of the Earth can be heard once more.”’

She was but a lowly priestess of Ishvala and she once felt she was going above her station to bear the duties and responsibilities she now faced. She was only meant to serve and guide, not lead and command, but there were too few left. The entire class of Monks that served as the foundation of their faith were gone and most of the highest-ranking Priests had been singled-out and killed in the first few years of the war. She hoped there would be enough priests to release her from her burden once she arrived as refugees to the place of their exile, but she held little hope. If there were even a dozen left to lead the tens of thousands of refugees, she would be surprised. Without her and the other priests, she knew the hotheaded youth would run headlong into their deaths and the teachings of Ishvala – of peace and freedom and love – would be gone.

As the guard watched them go in, he caught sight of something that shocked him into blocking their path. He pointed his rifle towards the stretcher being carried by two of her party.

“E-Elder Priestess, why are you bring one of them with you! There is hardly food to spare of us, yet alone an Amestrian!”

Around them, a few of the nearby caravan workers stopped what they were doing and moved towards them. Sensing the potential hostility, the members of their group formed a ring to protect themselves and the Amestrian on the stretcher.

Elder Shan smiled and lifted her hand in the air.

“Now, now. There’s no need to do anything drastic. I’m sure you’ve heard of the Amestrian doctor pair right? The ones helping cure our people?”

At those words, the man responded like he was hit. He recoiled back and lowered his weapon.

“Then- No, why is she hurt? Did one of our own do it? I swear I wouldn’t… I didn’t mean…”

Shan had a dark look on her face and a tear threatened to fall from her eyes. She gestured to the rest of her group.

“It was just a few hours ago. They were curing the men, woman and children here like they always did. Such loving souls. One could scarcely find such a pair of saints among the best of our Ancestors.”

She pointed to a man with a burn on his face. The burn went down his neck and Shan knew it covered over half his body.

“You should have seen Rohan here. He came in with a face as black as ash from that Flame Alchemist. He-”

Rohan touched her shoulder and smiled sadly.

“I would have died. There were at times where I wanted to be taken to Ishvala’s kingdom. The doctors ran out of painkillers and the traditional Ishvalan remedies don’t exactly help with immolation. I cursed them and if it wasn’t for others holding me down, I would’ve killed myself. I know what the teachings says about suicide, but the pain was so strong… they took all my abuse and everyone’s hatred… and they just kept saving lives.”

He started tearing up.

Shan nodded and turned towards the growing number of people.

“And against these peacekeepers and saviors, the State sent a band of assassins to kill them. It wasn’t enough that they turned on their own citizens on the first flimsy justification they could find, they did not even have a justification to kill this pair of doctors. No doubt their healing was seen as a threat to the war they wanted and so they would have them killed over. Or at least they tried. It must have been by Ishvala’s Grace that one of the patients at the clinic was a monk. The man woke up at the perfect time, catching the killers off guard and saving us before they could finish the job.”

The nearby people let out a cheer.

The guardsman looked at the female doctor lying on the stretcher once more and gave a nod.

“I’m sorry… I understand. I can’t exactly tell you to turn her over to the military that tried to murder her, not after she helped our people so much.”

Then he looked around for a moment.

“But I remember that there were a pair of doctors: the Rockbells, right? They were a married team. Where is the husband?”

Shan shook her head.

“The Monk, he had been unconscious at the time and we were alone and defenseless against them. I suppose we should all be fortunate that these would-be killers wanted to toy with us first. They shot and killed poor Larisa, one of the teenaged girls that was helping out. She was the only one of us capable of putting up a fight and they… they did not even hesitate. Then the Alchemist – the Crimson Alchemist that went by Major Kimblee – he went up to the doctors and put his hands together. The room exploded. By the time the dust cleared and the ringing in my ears stopped… the husband, he had grabbed his wife and held her underneath him to protect her from the blast. Until now she’s been asleep but-”

“Yuriy’s dead?!”

Priestess Shan and the rest of them turned in shock. Miraculously, Doctor Sarah Rockbell was awake and trying to sit up on her stretcher. The sudden movement made the two Ishvalans carrying her unstable and were forced to lower her to the ground. As the female doctor pushed herself up, some blood ran down her nose and dripped on the floor. Seeing this, the doctor’s former patients rushed to her side.

“Please lay back down!”

“Doctor Rockbell, you’re bleeding!”

The doctor ignored them pushed them away.

“Get away! I want to see Yuriy! Please, y-you need to bring me to my husband… you were just lying right… he, he has to be alive!”

The others looked away, but Shan moved forwards and grabbed the woman in an embrace. She would not let this woman who once removed her eye and saved her life from grieving alone.

“I’m sorry Sarah, he’s gone.”

The doctor tried to push her away too, but she kept up the hug. The fact that the much younger woman could do nothing to pull away was proof the doctor was as injured as she suspected. The explosion did not hit her directly, but she was affected… in more ways than one.

The doctor soon stopped trying to pull away and instead returned the hug. Shan felt a wetness on her shoulder and she did not check if it was blood or tears. The doctor wailed.

“Yuriy! Why?! What did we do…? What am I going to do without you? Yuriy…”

Shan could only rub her back.

“I’m sorry…”

More than just a feeling of empathy, Shan felt responsible for Doctor Rockbell. If she was a cynic, she could have justified that the Rockbells knew the risks, but she was as far from one as could be. These two great doctors had involved themselves in their struggle and paid the ultimate price. Elder Priestess Shan Kanda would ensure that somehow, some way, the woman would find her way back to her family. She only hoped that of all the horrible things that has happened in this war, she might have the ability to do just one act of kindness.

But the time for such acts were far in the future. In the meantime, they would flee into the night and into the harsh wilderness and arrive in a strange and possibly hostile land. Shan had been given a harsh lesson, and so she would no longer try to guess at the Great Plan Ishvala had for her or her people. She could only pray that tomorrow’s burdens would be lessened and the recovery could finally begin.

Chapter Text

November 28^th, 1908, 12^th 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 12 ^th 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 27^th, 1908, 12^th 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 1 ^st 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 11^th, 1908, 12^th 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 203^rd 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.”

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 94^th 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 12^th, 1908, 94^th Brigade Temporary Headquarters, Ishvala, Amestris – Grand POV

Per the orders of Major General Halcrow, the Alchemists and Staff Officers of the 94^th 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 94^th , 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 263^rd 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 Major 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 94^th 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.”

---

December 12^th , 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 203^rd Alchemist Battalion including her “partner” for the mission 1^st 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 203^rd appeared stoic and professional, Warrant Officer Havoc, however, was… flirting with the 1^st Lieutenant.

“I’m just saying, I’m surprised that someone as beautiful as you hasn’t already found a boyfriend.”

The 1^st 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 1^st Lieutenant, Sergeant Richter – the other 203^rd 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 1^st 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 203^rd 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, d oes 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 203^rd Battalion would be paired with someone else from the 94^th 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 ? H e 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 1^st 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.”

Chapter Text

December 23^rd, 1908, 12^th Division Headquarters, Ishvala Ruins, Amestris – Tanya POV

Lieutenant Colonel Tanya Degurechaff walked through the ruins of Ishvala with a skip in her step. Around her, soldiers were laughing, cheering, dancing, singing and more in celebration. The reason was clear: for most of them, the war was over and for the rest, there would be little risk until they too were moved out of the front lines.

1^st Lieutenant Viktoriya Serebryakova had given the news to her earlier that morning on a telegram.

[Fighting has ceased for more than 8 hours in Ishval, Dahlia region claimed liberated by Central government! With the final region liberated, all of Ishval has been lawfully reunited with the rest of Amestris! With the reduction of conflict on all fronts, more units are to stand down for reorganization. All units connected to the 12^th, 16^th, and 47^th Divisions are to cease all action on December 23^rd. Return to your Brigade HQ for new orders.]

In celebration – and with little else she could think of doing – she gave the Battalion the day off. She left them only with an order to get as much of their packing done as they could. Depending on the nature of her unit’s reorganization, they would be heading either to East City or Central.

It was for this very reason that she reserved a meeting with the commander of the 12^th Division and made her way to his headquarters. Coincidentally, it seemed that Major General Halcrow also wanted to talk to her about something.

She entered the large building – one of the few free-standing structures left on the outer-edge of the city – and gave her superior a salute.

“So, the war is over, Major General Halcrow, sir.”

The General smirked and shook his head.

“I can understand the mistake since the uniform hasn’t come in yet. I’m a Lieutenant General now.”

She was surprised. It was rare for someone of such a high-rank to get a promotion. She gave him a nod and a smile.

“Then congratulations on the promotion, sir.”

He gave her a sad smile back..

“I appreciate it, it was a… long time coming. I’m not the only one. Almost every officer below General in the army is getting a promotion now that the war’s over. I also saw fit to promote Ironblood to Brigadier General as befitting his responsibilities. It shouldn’t come to much surprise. With conscription over and mandatory service periods expiring, almost half of the military will disappear soon and that leaves a lot of positions to fill. Out of everyone under my command, I think only the Crimson Alchemist is staying his rank considering how recently he was promoted.”

Walking to a nearby table, he picked up a sealed envelope and handed it to her.

“That includes you of course, congratulations Colonel Degurechaff.”

She took the envelope with trepidation. Once it was in her hands, she looked it over for a moment, not sure if her senses were not disobeying her. Unlike with her promotion to Lieutenant Colonel, there was no flamboyant displays for the press or a personal award ceremony from the Fürer. This was just a boring, ordinary gesture of good-will, with seemingly no ill-will behind it.

Once the situation caught up to her she gave him another salute and a big smile.

“Thank you sir!”

‘Just one more promotion until Brigadier General and a permanent position in the rear!’

He shook his head.

“It’s only right. Really, it is I that should be thanking you. Your Operation Orb was instrumental in ensuring that last desperate Ishvalan gamble did not succeed and I’m sure that mission helped in my own promotion. I take care of my subordinates.”

Tanya smiled, glad that she was finally being recognized for something other than her direct military involvement. She had not taken any direct action during that engagement. Surely the General would not force her to the front if he valued her contributions in the rear.

‘I had him pegged wrong from the start. I was right not to let his actions surrounding Executive Order 3066 which forced me into these wars from biasing my thinking.’

Her next thought, however, made her frown.

‘But the question is, what now? Is it actually the case that I’m on a course for an easy retirement? I might be heading to the rear permanently soon, but if Amestris goes into another war…’

Tanya had to say something. She sighed.

“Sir, we can’t let another Ishval happen again.”

Lieutenant General Halcrow sighed and nodded. He gestured to a nearby table and chairs.

“I suppose we cannot let all this good news distract us too much. We both have reasons for this meeting. Well, to business then.”

They sat down and the General stared into the Colonel’s eyes with a stern expression.

“With a comment like that, I imagine that you want to take more political action.”

Tanya groaned. This was a conversation she had been dreading ever since it was clear she would be joining the military, but she could not hold it off any longer. With the Operation Orb project, she would never be allowed to leave the country, but she also could not continue working for a doomed nation.

‘But what should I say? To anyone from modern Japan, it’s obvious what the end result of Amestris’ aggressive expansionism will be: to be crushed by one or more global wars. The only proven system for long-term peace and prosperity is for Amestris to transition towards democracy and a Rules-Based International Order governed by Free-Market Principles. But I doubt a General that just got a promotion through war wants to hear about that.’

She would play things safe for now and stick to the clear facts.

“Sir, I… you should know me by now. I’m not one to rock the boat and I’m no pacifist. I know that the military has a place and the need to protect Amestrian sovereignty. I was perfectly content to just work my way to a rear position and enjoy a comfortable life, but General Halcrow, this war… it was such a massive waste of our potential. We lost over 100,000 soldiers and a productive area of our nation with nothing to show for it. We’ve been lucky that the neighboring powers have also had their own problems to deal with, but if we try something like the Border Wars again, our nation might not survive.”

General Halcrow frowned, but he did not dismiss her premise out-of-hand.

“You’re not wrong, Colonel, and you’re not the only one bringing me these concerns. Before I go on, I have to ask. What do you know about Military Politics?”

She grimaced. Her lack of knowledge on it was a painful reminder of just how fast the past few months have been and just how out-of-depth she was regarding her situation.

“I’ve been on the receiving end of it a few times. I joined the war because of it and I know that Central played me up as the ‘Hero of the Western Front’ for some political reason to hide something… probably some deal between them and Western HQ. I thought it might have been because the mission was so awful, but then I saw the state of Ishval… I suppose I should be lucky the political maneuvering hasn’t been worse.”

The General gave her a sympathetic nod.

“The military likes to portray itself as a monolith ruled by the Fürer, but the reality is that there are a lot of different Factions competing for different goals. The Western General Staff and most of the Alumni from Western Academy make up the Academics trying to codify and standardize the military. There’s also the Industrialists lead by the Armstrong family, the Centralists lead by our leader, and a whole host of Factions starting to emerge now that the Ishvalan Rebellion is over.”

The number of Factions and clear divisions immediately had Tanya concerned. It was frighteningly reminiscent of pre-war Japan. The Imperial Way (皇道派), the Control (統制派), the Financial (財閥) and other factions all vying for power in the authoritarian regime of Imperial Japan. Considering the time period she was in, it was too much of a coincidence to ignore.

‘The last thing I want is to step one foot off the frontlines only to have get stabbed in the back. I haven’t been in the military long, but if the Amestrian Military Junta is anything like Imperial Japan’s, being in the wrong Faction is asking for a young officer to commit Gekokujō (下克上); killing me to make a name for themselves in their clique.’

She looked to him with thinly-veiled concern.

“I imagine you’re telling me this because of you have something in mind, sir. I don’t want to make an… incorrect decision.”

General Halcrow nodded sagely.

“I had a feeling you were smart enough to realize that. There are many ‘dead-end’ factions that will bring an abrupt end to your career… if you know what I mean. I was afraid you might end up joining the new radical groups built from the other Ishvalan veterans like this new ‘Eastern Liberation Front’ or ‘Blue Division’ or whatever it is that wants to overthrow the government.”

She did not need to hide her disgust. She had heard of some of those groups, but had thought they were just public interest groups that were trying to lobby the government for change. She was glad she did not make any hasty decisions. She certainly did not want to join a radical color-themed group and end up in the ranks of some anarchist – or worse, a communist – faction.

She pleaded her case emphatically.

“I’m a team player, sir. I’m willing to compromise on some things to focus on what’s important. I just don’t want to see a repeat of the massive waste I saw in this war. Is there an organization that would put Human Resources to good use?”

He paused for a moment with a hint of surprise before he nodded.

“Then the only right choice is with the Centralists. As a member, I suppose I’m biased, but it is the largest and most influential Faction, but even including these new radical groups, no factions has historically made meaningful changes to the status quo more than us. With your record and with my backing, I’m sure you will carve out a place for yourself and bring Amestris into the modern age.”

She frowned. The Centralists sounded an awful lot like the current government. She voiced her concern.

“Central and the Fürer were the reason for the inflexibility when dealing with the Ishvalans in the first place, were they not? How are we expected to change their minds?”

General Halcrow smiled.

“That’s been my goal. You could say it was the main reason for why my promotion was so late. This war may have started from an act of violence, but it grew into an uncompromising war because of the aristocratic and conservative elements of the Centralists forcing the Fürer’s hand. I was there when it happened. It was a shock; I’d thought my efforts had sidelined them. The Ishvalan Rebellion has been their only recent political play that’s actually succeeded and you can see the results for yourself.”

He gave out his hand in a gesture for her to shake it.

“So, will you help me make this war their last political move? I’m sure we have our differences, but we can act on those after the incompetents are ousted from the faction. Will you work with me to make it happen?”

She was conflicted. She had not come into this meeting for politics and it was a usually a good idea to walk away from a deal to think it over rather than deciding in the moment.

‘Is this the right move? I have little political connections so what are the alternatives? Go back to Lieutenant General Zettour who had me lead a suicidal charge behind enemy lines? He jumped two ranks for it and he owes me… but he probably just sees me as a means to an end. What about the Fürer? He got me into this mess in the first place and seemed to be on my side… but he no doubt has a strong desire to maintain the status-quo.’

She sighed.

‘No… I have to “play the hand I’m dealt” as the saying goes. I can’t allow another Fürer to plunge the continent into war like that German one, but I also won’t stoop to methods like the Imperial Way Faction (皇道派). I can’t just unilaterally shape Amestris into my ideal image with assassination and radical action. That would make me the worst kind of hypocrite. I must work from inside the government… and if all my political allies are in the same faction, what better choice is there? ’

She shook the General’s hand.

“Alright, I’ll do it. I’ll join you in Central. As you said, I’m sure that we will be competing in the long run, but that doesn’t need to make us enemies. I will do whatever it takes to secure the future of Amestris.”

General Halcrow grinned and signaled for his adjutant to prepare lunch.

“I’m glad you made the right choice, please stay with me for lunch. There are a lot of things I would like to discuss with you. Working together, the future of Amestris look unrecognizable compared to what it’s like today.”

She nodded. At the very least, she needed to get her Battalion’s orders.

They sat and discussed the reorganization of the Division. Her Battalion’s place in Central, the research department she wanted to open to expand her Operation Orb Project’s scope, and more. In a few minutes, the food had arrived and the General brought up a glass of wine in a toast.

“To peace!”

Being underage, she brought up her glass of water instead, but hesitated. She realized that the toast was actually true. For the first time since she was less than two years old, Amestris was finally at peace. She could not afford to waste this opportunity.

She nodded and raised her glass.

“Yes. To peace.”

---

January 1^st, 1909, Eastern Parade Grounds, East City, Amestris – Grumman POV

Outside the window of the formidable and austere East City military headquarters, a parade of the Amestrian military was on full display. Trumpets and drums of marching bands played as columns of soldiers marched around the parade ground in good order. Once each group was finished being “presented” to the headquarters, they would then march out into the streets of the city and into the cheering arms of the public. All across the parade grounds, but also hanging on the balconies of the apartments nearby was the Flag of Amestris flying proudly in the calm breeze.

At the podium where the soldiers were being presented, a number of Generals were seated in ornate chairs. When each group came by, the Generals would stand up and proudly salute. It was a ceremony to unify the ranks; to show that everyone from the highest-ranking general to the lowest ranking private had a place of importance in the operation and prestige of the army.

Except it was all a sham.

From his office in East City Headquarters, Lieutenant General Grumman could only look on in silence while the Generals from Central – all of whom had never once set foot in Ishval – proudly strutted and role-played the “stoic” and “unyielding” ideal for the men. He calmly sipped his tea, the bitter flavor complementing his mood.

‘I suppose I should be glad that Central denied my request to take part of the parade. While it might have given me an extra boost of recognition from the common soldier, it wasn’t worth getting into a fight with Central over. If they want to sideline the real soldiers who saved the Ishvalan Campaign from the brink of collapse, so be it. I was never someone who stopped an opponent from making a mistake. Some anonymous rumors circulating around to my subordinates hinting at Central’s decision to sideline me has had far more political value than any parade.’

He heard a loudspeaker turn on and an announcer speak from a script. It was the same tired lines repeated in different ways that were said throughout the day to fill the dead air between the musical numbers of the marching bands.

[Watch as our glorious Amestrian military continues to show their fortitude with distinction! These men and women have just returned from their heroic victory in Ishval and have had little time to rest, but we could not deny them one last chance to present themselves to you, the people! For many of these sons and daughters of Amestris, this will be their last parade. They will return into the arms of their families and serve as the solid backbone of our nation in peace. A grateful nation thanks you all for your valorous service in the name of protecting our homes!]

Grumman smiled as the people cheered on the soldiers and despite the distance, he felt he could see the soldiers march a little straighter, with chests puffed out a little fuller. Despite his enmity for the current situation, he was glad that – at least for the common people – this was a celebration worth having. A first step towards a new normal for a nation no longer at war.

There was a knock at the door. Grumman turned to find his adjutant poking his head out from the other side.

“Sir, a Lieutenant Colonel Mustang and Major Hughes to see you.”

Grumman nodded and the adjutant closed the door. These officers were just two of many he had meetings with throughout the month. Like the others, these two had been denied promotions because of their adversarial actions towards their superiors’ incompetence. They were the perfect people to have serving under him and their promotions were something they had earned.

The two men entered, but he did not turn to greet them. He wanted to gauge them a little first.

As he had expected, Lieutenant Colonel Mustang was the first to speak.

“Sir, you wanted to speak with us?”

Still without turning, Grumman gestured his tea cup towards the parade.

“Lieutenant Colonel, what do you think of this parade?”

The Flame Alchemist seemed confused by the question.

“I… I’m not sure what you mean. It’s a gesture of goodwill, a festival? The people like it, although I’m not much of a fan.”

‘An unsurprising answer from an Alchemist; sticking to the facts, but…’

Grumman turned to the Major.

“And you, Major Hughes? Do you know what I mean?”

The Major gave him a nervous looking smile.

“There’s a lot less people in that parade than there should be… but I suppose its better for us to march in East City than to our graves in Ishval.”

‘I’m glad at least one of them is paying attention.’

Lieutenant Colonel Mustang turned to his friend in shock.

“Hughes! What are you-”

Before the situation could get tense, Grumman laughed and gave them each a calculating look.

“So quick to defend your friend, Lieutenant Colonel Mustang. There’s no need to worry, I won’t be so quick to revoke the ranks I just gave you because of a little backtalk. Now Major, perhaps you could illuminate your friend on why you thought saying that was alright? I’m interested to know myself.”

The Major crossed his arms.

“You specifically chose us for this meeting… we were in different Companies yet you picked us to come in together for this. You also promoted us despite the numerous… recommendations sent back to Central by former commander Fessler. So I did some digging; I wanted to know whose command we were being signed up for. You seem to be surrounding yourself with a lot of new people from after the Ishvalan Civil War. It wasn’t hard to see a pattern of picking ‘troublemakers’ like us. You’re something of a ‘troublemaker’ yourself, right?”

Grumman said nothing for a moment. Instead, he simply sipped tea and let them stew on their “revelation”. He then smirked.

“While I won’t deny that, there’s no need to be modest. I didn’t choose you just for your views or your personalities. You’re both exemplary officers. You, Major, have just shown a level of insight that I doubt most Generals in Central could match and, Lieutenant Colonel, your skill in Alchemy has been the talk of the military for almost a year now. Many consider you the best there is. If I just wanted some anti-establishment muscle, I could have picked any number of soldiers itching to kick-off a revolution.”

That seemed to frustrate the Flame Alchemist.

“If you’re such a troublemaker, then why don’t you? What do you see when you look at that parade?”

Grumman laughed. He would not let them see his true feeling so easily.

“A nice parade!”

That weak admission had both of the officers groaning. Flame in particular seemed put off by his nonchalance.

“What’s the point of all this?”

Grumman shook his head in mock insult.

“Does there need to be a point? I might be a little troublesome, but that doesn’t mean I want a revolution! Perhaps we can talk about some stories of my youth! Why, back when I was a young officer like yourselves, I never concerned myself with-”

The idea of listening to him ramble made Flame look borderline apoplectic.

‘You really need to reign in those emotions, Flame, you’re so easy to tease.’

Major Hughes patted his friend on the back and turned to the General.

“Sir, I really think you should get to the point or Mustang here might start throwing Alchemy.”

The General took out a fan from on his desk. Hiding his mouth behind it, he let out a polite chuckle. He closed the fan with a snap and pointed it towards them.

“Ha! You have quite the fiery temper Flame Alchemist and I learned that with just this little conversation. That’s all this meeting is really for; to learn from one-another. No need to take things so personally. But I suppose in the interest of moving the discussion forwards, let me answer your question with a question. What does Central think when looking at this parade? Do they see valuable soldiers and civilians in need of protection? Do they look at the talented young soldiers marching in perfect rows, and see the future of this country? People with lives ahead of them; children of mothers and fathers that love them and are eager to see them back safely for the holidays?”

That seemed to cool their moods significantly. They both had a dark look and Lieutenant Colonel Mustang clenched his fist.

“Is that your idea of a joke? We’re nothing but cannon-fodder to them. In Ishval, we were worth nothing. If they cared about our lives, it was only for the inconvenience in disposing our corpses after being killed.”

Major Hughes then gave the General a calculating look.

“In fact, I would say that the orders we were getting from Central was closer to active sabotage than just a disregard for our lives. There was one thing that stood out to me near the end of the war. If we just opened the way to Aerugo, most of the Ishvalans would’ve left on their own. I know from my friends in Intelligence that some made it anyway, but could have had a much easier time of things if we gave them an opening ourselves. That would have killed two birds with one stone: saved the lives of many of our soldiers and gave Aerugo a humanitarian headache to deal with. No matter what Central wanted out of this war, that should have been the obviously superior outcome, right?”

‘I was right about him, a good head on his shoulders. I suppose if he’s willing to give a little information, I should reciprocate.’

Grumman nodded.

“You’re seeing something that took me decades to uncover, although I imagine that Ishval made certain things painfully obvious. This isn’t the first time the military has made a completely irrational decision like that – nor will it be the last – but you must be careful. Don’t look too deep into this if you ever want to actually do something about it.”

Lieutenant Colonel Mustang slammed Grumman’s desk.

“That’s easy to say, but those bastards killed a lot of people I’d call my friends. Comrades-in-arms I shed blood with! We need to be doing whatever it takes to bring them down!”

‘I’m glad I caught them when I did. If they went on like this, I would have been down two promising subordinates.’

Grumman looked up at the State Alchemist with a condescending look. He gestured to his door.

“Then march out that door and join the Eastern Liberation Front, or the Anti-Central League, or the Amestrian Anarchist Army, or any dozen other groups. I’ve been fighting this for longer than either of you’ve been alive and I can tell you that Central is not a pushover! If you think you have what it takes, go. I won’t stop you.”

That seemed to cool Mustang’s temper a little.

Grumman leaned forwards, he gestured a hand to a wall. A photo of his graduating class hung on it. Of the 84 people in that photo, only 6 of them remained.

“I knew many men – good, smart, men – informants, trusted confidants, people like you who thought they knew what they were doing. They mentioned taking a closer look at the Centralists and they never came back. No body, no hint of them in the record books. Like they never existed. Some of these people worked for Intelligence; knew the Bureau inside and out. They should have known how to keep their investigations hidden, but they had no chance.”

Major Hughes nodded.

“So then I was probably right then. There is a conspiracy at the highest levels. Is the Fürer even a real person, or is he some sort of puppet fabricated from whole-cloth as a convenient tool for them to act with?”

Grumman sighed.

‘Stupid fool, and I had such high hopes for him…’

In a fluid motion, he ripped open his desk drawer and grabbed the Luger inside it. With a deftness not befitting his advancing years, he aimed the pistol at them with a solid grip. He looked at the two of them with a grave look.

“You shouldn’t have said that.”

They were both quick to respond. The Flame Alchemist had his ignition-cloth gloves ready and leveled. Likewise, Major Hughes had two hands on a set of small knives holstered on his belt.

The Lieutenant Colonel gave him a look that could kill. It was the kind of dead-eyed look that only a Veteran from Ishval could have.

“What are you doing old man?!”

General Grumman did not flinch.

“The real question is, what are you going to do? You kill me and you’ll never make it out of East City. Whereas I can find any manner of excuse for disposing the two of you. A pair of traitors. What was your plan, bringing weapons into my office? Did you think the lack of a search at the door was an invitation?”

Major Hughes was the first to put his weapons away. He rubbed a hand on his face and groaned.

“Sorry Lieutenant General, sir, I wasn’t thinking. That won’t happen again.”

‘So he’s not a lost cause, just in over his head.’

The Flame Alchemist looked confused and turned to his friend.

“Hughes?”

Seeing that his point had been made, Grumman put his pistol away and gestured for Major Hughes to speak.

“Sorry Roy, I messed up. We didn’t know where Lieutenant General Grumman’s real allegiances were, yet I gave away how much I actually knew about the ‘potential’ conspiracy in Central. I didn’t even consider that. Damn it.”

Lieutenant Colonel Mustang frowned and lowered his gloved hands, looking between the two of them.

“But if the General put away the gun, then he is against Central. What was the point of all this, then?”

The General sighed.

‘I’ll have a lot to teach the Flame Alchemist about subtlety, that’s for sure.’

“The point, Lieutenant Colonel, is to teach you a lesson. You can trust me now that I know all your secrets, true, but why did you take that risk? Do you know if I’m the real ‘Lieutenant General Grumman’? How do you know anything I just told you was the truth? Can you say for certain that this wasn’t a sting-operation cooked up by Intelligence to reign in a ‘group of traitors’ before they could do any damage. You just outed yourselves and I would have had everything I needed to bury you.”

He finished his tea, sat up from his chair and walked across the room. He stood in front of a map of Amestris. On it were numerous outdated markings of unit positions and battlelines from when the Ishvalan Civil War first began. He pointed at them.

“This isn’t a game. This is a battlefield just as real as the one you two left with the same stakes: everything for the winners and death for the losers. In this war, secrets are our battlements and investigation is our artillery. Our enemy has the advantage. They rule the nation and have kept their secrets very well. I don’t know how, but this conspiracy is powerful and far reaching, with a strong leader and clear vision of what it wants.”

Hughes gave a look of surprise.

“How can you know that, sir? You were the one to say that they are so good, no one who investigates them makes it back from Central. How can you get any information about them.”

Grumman nods.

“That is a skill you’ll need to learn for yourself in time. Even if I can’t see how this conspiracy operates or what its goals are, I can see the edges; the shape. I’d have to have my head in the sand not to see it after 40 years in the military. The Centralists are large Faction, yet they’re completely unified. That should be impossible. A faction that size should have sub-factions, each with leaders vying for power. They should be calling in favors from external power-brokers of the other major factions to back them up in political disputes. At the very least, this unity should come with consequences. For unity to happen, a leader must emerge to maintain order and cull out disloyalty and liabilities among their ranks.”

Grumman jabbed a finger at Central City on the map.

“None of that happens with the Centralists. It’s like you said, the Fürer’s not the leader. He doesn’t use his power logically. As a ruler, he should be convicting people that oppose him or building a power-base of allies loyal to him. Yet on paper, he has almost no supporters and should have been ousted decades ago, yet he’s stuck around. Some person or group rules the Centralists, working behind the scenes to keep the Fürer in power, manipulating the various civilian and military Amestrian institutions for their own gain with no trace of their existence beyond the results.”

Major Hughes looked defeated at the information he was being told.

“That's horrifying…”

Lieutenant Colonel Mustang – on the other hand – seemed more annoyed than disillusioned.

“What’s the bottom line? What are we fighting here?”

With a sigh, Grumman made his way back to his desk and sat down.

“I don’t know what our enemy is. My guess would be some inner circle of Central General Staff and civilian power brokers, but that seems too easy; too ordinary. This is an organization that’s masterful at covering their tracks. The Centralists obviously value loyalty – there would be no reason for them to suffer the incompetency in their ranks otherwise – but I don’t know what that loyalty means. What are their goals, their motivations?”

The Flame Alchemist shook his head.

“Does any of that matter? We just need to win. Cut off the head and the whole rotting organization will come crumbling down.”

Grumman glared.

“Are you sure? Are you willing to bet the lives of everyone on your guess of leadership? The Centralists might not have a majority of the military under their command, but they have a clear plurality; over 40% of the nation’s combat potential is firmly in their control. What do you think a Civil War would look like if you were wrong? There wouldn’t be an Amestris left.”

That seemed to deflate the State Alchemist.

“That- I already know we can’t fight Central head on.”

Major Hughes nodded.

“We can’t defeat them head-on, so we need to find out everything about them. We need a sure way to take them down without a Civil War. You have an idea, right? You didn’t call us here just to tell us the situation is hopeless.”

The Lieutenant General frowned.

“Yes, I have a plan, but I’m also telling you to cool your heads, boys. There will be plenty of unrest and hot tempers flaring with these new radical groups in the coming months and Central will put them all down like it always does. We can use that instability to learn what we can about how the Centralists operate, but I don’t need dead men walking, I need reliable soldiers. Can I trust you two to wait and build up your reputations and evidence until the time is right?”

The two looked to each other and nodded. Grumman nodded back.

“Thank you. You’ll find that your faith will not be misplaced.”

They spent fifteen more minutes talking about less important things. Their place under his command in East City. The type of actions they would be undertaking. Approval for certain subordinates to be transferred over from Ishval. After the conversations ended, the two left. When the door finally closed, Lieutenant General Grumman let out a deep sigh of relief he did not realize he was holding in.

He stood up from his chair and walked to the window. Taking off his glasses, he waved them in front of his face, letting the sun reflect off them into the distance. Past the parade grounds and the soldiers, a team of marksman aiming into his office from atop a nearby building received his signal and began to pack up. Replacing his glasses, he turned back towards the door.

‘Sorry boys, but I can’t quite trust you two just yet. I’m almost certain you’re not a plant from Central – or I wouldn’t have been so open about my knowledge of the conspiracy – but having someone tail them for a few weeks won’t hurt either. If they’re in on it, I might find some more clues. I didn’t become Lieutenant General without taking risks, but I didn’t survive until now without knowing how to deal with the problems that come with it.’

He stepped out onto his balcony and leaved forwards on the railing. Below was a street that ran adjacent to both the parade grounds and the headquarters was a cafe where officers would regularly go for a quick bite to eat. Sitting at one of the tables was a nondescript man who was reading from a paper. He had been sitting at the cafe for four hours already… quite the avid reader.

‘But just because I can notice the obvious spies, does that rule out the absence of any not-so-obvious ones? How long until I’m the one “disappeared” by the Centralist spooks? Will I be joining the others as just another pound of flesh ground down by the gears of a State apparatus running towards its enigmatic ends?’

Stepping back inside, he looked to his desk and a picture of his family. In it were the Grummans and the Hawkeyes sitting around a table celebrating a large chicken dinner. He looked at the soft and shy features of his granddaughter Riza who could not be more than 12 years old at the time.

‘I suppose I can’t tell them that the real reason for the meeting was to see for myself the character of the people my Granddaughter spends time with, can I? No, I can’t let my sentimental side win. When the time comes, I must be willing to throw away everything: my family, my friends, even my morality for Final Victory. Overthrowing King Bradley and his cohort is the only way I can make those bastards pay for all they’ve done.’

He was too old for the luxury to second-guess himself. He picked up the phone receiver and dialed 0. His Adjutant picked up on the other end.

“Major Albert, another pot of tea, if you would?”

[Right away General.]

Hanging up the phone, he sat back in his chair. As he reclined, a pain shot up from his hip, forcing him to lean forwards and grasping his lower back.

‘Ow… ah… The real question is, will my time come before I kick the bucket… I’ve been so patient. It’s thanks to that patience that I was able to use Ishval to recruit a loyal army for myself, but when will that moment of weakness in Central finally arrive ? When can I finally put an end to this political sham?’

---

January 10^th, 1909, Rockbell Household, Resembool, Amestris – Winry POV

Winter was boring .

Resembool was too far south for snow, so Winry Rockbell never got the chance to make Snow Angels. It was also too far north for the seasons not to change much. Instead, winter was cold, it rained a lot, and the ground was too muddy and wet to have fun playing around in. All combined, she was forced to spend a lot of time indoors. While she did not mind spending a little extra time learning about Automail and Surgery from Granny, it was still boring .

Granny and Winry sat at their kitchen table and ate breakfast in silence. Granny finished first, but did not put in the effort to clear the table. Instead, she distracted herself with a clipboard covered in notes. With the war going on nearby, there were a lot of injuries which meant a lot of Automail customers. That meant ordering parts, having consultations, assembling the artificial limbs and fitting them onto the clients. Granny did not perform the surgeries herself anymore – her hands were too shaky – but she did almost everything else. With Resembool being the first stop for many people leaving Ishval, a lot of them were willing to spend a premium to get themselves “fixed” right away, so Granny was always busy.

Winry hoped the war ended soon. She missed her parents. They were doctors that helped people and they promised to be back when the war ended. Normally, she would get mail from them every week, but over the past month, she did not get anything . Granny said it might have been lost in the mail. That had happened a little last year too so that could be the case again … but she was really worried. She did not let Granny know that though. She did not want her to think she was a crybaby .

When she finished her food, she got up, grabbed both her and Granny’s plates and started washing them in the sink.

Granny got up from the table and tapped her on the arm.

“No need to worry about that, dear. Just get your jacket on and go off to school.”

Winry frowned. Granny had been acting weird lately. Normally Winry did all the chores since Granny was busy making money, but over the past few days, Granny had taken over doing everything. She liked the extra free time, but it was winter, so there was not much fun things she could do instead.

“But-”

Granny bopped her on the head with her clipboard.

“Don’t you want to walk with the boys on the way to school? If you don’t leave soon you’ll miss them.”

She smiled at the thought, but was quick to correct her grandmother.

“Fine, but I only like walking with Alphonse. Ed’s a stupid weirdo.”

Granny gave her a weird smirk for some reason, but she ignored it. It was probably some stupid grown-up thing.

---

Fifteen minutes later, she had her jacket and schoolbag on and was walking down the road on the way to school. There was only one place the Elric brothers would be: the train station. It was the only exciting place left in the whole town. Nothing else really changed.

Today, there was another one of those “armored military trains” at the station surrounded by soldiers either guarding it, walking around, or talking among themselves. The train looked like a newer design. Instead of being made primarily from cast-iron, it was constructed from the same dark-colored medium-carbon steel used in the outer-plating of Automail they made for soldiers. While it was wear- and weather-resistant, the metal was also really heavy. There was a reason that trains used it but automobiles and wagons used steel with less carbon that could be made thinner.

‘I just don’t get those soldiers. Sure having “armored” Automail is cool, but all Automail is cool! Unless a soldier is covered head-to-toe in Automail, whether your arm can deflect a bullet has got to be less important than how easy it is to lift it, right?’

She hoped it was not one of those “boy” things like whatever secret Ed and Al were keeping from her. On that note, it did not take much scanning of the groups of soldiers and civilians at the station to see the Elric brothers. Their small forms – especially Ed’s – was easy to make out in the crowd. When they saw her approach, they immediately ran her way.

Al smiled which she reciprocated.

“Winry!”

Ed – like usual – had a face that looked like just he ate a lemon from Miss Monica’s greenhouse.

“Hey gear-head.”

Winry would not let that insult lie and threw a punch at his stupid face. Unfortunately, the boys had gone through some crazy “Alchemist Training” over the summer. Not only did that mean they came back with weirder alchemy than normal, but Ed could not dodge all her punches. Of course, the lack of physical contact only made her more angry.

“Don’t call me a gear-head, midget!”

Ed looked like he was going to retaliate, but was held back by his brother.

“Don’t call me a pea-sized flea, you Automail freak!”

“If I’m an Automail freak, than you’re an Alchemy freak!”

“Why you-”

Al stepped in between them and physically kept them apart. He groaned and turned to each of them.

“Come on guys, cut it out, you do this every day.”

She had mixed feelings about the two of them being back. She should be angry at them. For the past 6 months, they had left her all by herself. She still had one-or-two friends at school, but – as much as she hated to admit it – even Ed was more fun to talk to then they were. They just wanted to play with dolls or run around playing tag or climbing trees. They did not want to hearing her talk about the effects of Molybdenum on the temperature resistance of steel or the ways that Automail joints could be moved by nerve impulses.

That being said, she would have been even more happy if only Al came back.

“Maybe I would be nicer if you two would just hang out like we used to . Ever since you came back from your training, all you seem to do everyday is sleep in class and stay cooped up in your house with your dumb secrets.”

Ed huffed and turned away.

“Well, maybe we just have more important things to do than play around like little kids.”

His brother punched him in the arm for that which had Ed turn around.

“Hey! What’s the big idea!”

Al turned to Winry.

“Ed didn’t mean it like that. We… we just learned a lot of stuff from teacher and we still have a lot of homework to do. I promise, once we have things all figured out, we’ll hang out like we used to.”

Winry looked hopefully towards Al.

“Promise? I hate you keeping secrets from me.”

Al nodded and Ed rolled his eyes.

“Eh, enough with the feelings. ”

Ed’s eyes lit up with realization.

“Oh, that’s right! I heard it from the soldiers over there. The war’s over! I guess we’ll be seeing a lot less soldiers coming back, huh.”

Al smiled.

“Yeah! Hey, I bet you’re mom and dad will be coming back soon, right? I miss Auntie Sarah’s cooking.”

Winry beamed back at them. Suddenly, everything was right with the world. She was practically jumping up and down.

“Really?! That’s amazing!”

Then she realized that Granny would not have heard anything. News was slow. There would be nothing in the papers until the next one came out in a few days.

“Ah, that’s right! I gotta go home and tell Granny!”

She rushed off so fast that she barely heard the two Elrics say they would meet her at school. She ran back up the winding dirt road, and past a few neighbors. She was in such a rush she did not even say hi back to them!

She opened the front door and practically yelled at Granny.

“Granny! The war’s over! Mom and Dad are going to be coming home any day now!”

The small form of the Automail mechanic – who had finished washing the dishes and seemed deep in thought at a drill press – turned to her with an uncomfortable expression on her face.

She was confused. This was the best news they had all year.

“Granny? What’s wrong?”

---

January 10^th, 1909, Southern Passenger Train Station, Resembool, Amestris – Tanya POV

Colonel Tanya Degurechaff was doing what she loved: holding a clipboard with a clear list of work to be completed, handing out the work to be done to competent employees, and providing feedback for the optimal efficiency of their work. It was the like a symphony working in perfect concert with her as the conductor and unlike during the war, her life was not at risk! Unfortunately, such moments were few and far between, but now she knew better than to squander them and gave 100% of her focus to the task.

“Colonel, sir! We, uh, there’s a problem we need your help with.”

She turned to see Captain Rhiner Neumann give her a crisp salute. She sighed, putting a bookmark in the ledger she was reading and handed it off to one of the train engineers for safe-keeping. With the amount of paperwork that had to be done with regard to the Battalion’s transition to Central and requisitions for her Operation Orb research, her Adjutant 1^st Lieutenant Viktoriya Serebryakova and 2^nd in Command Captain Matheus Johan Weiss were sleeping now so that they could take over for her overnight while she slept.

She turned towards Captain Neumann and gestures for him to lead her towards this “problem”.

“What is it? Has there been a some sort of military activity? I wouldn’t have expected any Ishvalans to pose a threat this far west-”

The large Captain rapidly shook his head and chuckled.

“No, nothing like that Colonel. It’s just… well, we have a stowaway.”

Tanya frowned.

“Someone slipped though our watch from Ishval? Damn, well we can’t use the town jail… I suppose it could be best to house them in a passenger compartment under guard-”

The Captain sighed.

“Colonel, sorry. I’m not saying this right. I mean, the stowaway is a child; an Amestrian child, probably from the local area. I asked about her parents and she just started crying and demanding to be taken to ‘Ishval’. I tried to take her away, but she was very aggressive in clinging to all manner of objects. I could have been more forceful but…”

She could understand his hesitance.

‘The Ishval Rebellion started because of locals rioting after a soldier shot a child. Even without violence, being aggressive with one would be a bad look… I suppose I’m not doing anything that couldn’t be left off for a few more hours.’

Tanya sighed.

“Alright, but why come to me? I might be a child myself, but I’m not exactly… good with children.”

Captain Neumann grimaced.

‘Hey! I’m not great, but I still distinctly remember my time in the orphanage. I’m not hopeless.’

The Captain seemed to sense her anger and shook his head.

“Well, you could say my fatherly instincts give me the distinct impression that she does not want to be around adults at the moment. Also – if it came to it – you could probably force her out with less of a controversy. That said. I’m sorry if I’ve distracted you from your duties. I could try a local from the area if-.”

Tanya shook her head.

“It’s fine. Try searching around, but I’ll also do what I can. Let’s handle this quickly, our Battalion still has lots of work to be done.”

---

Tanya dismissed Captain Neumann outside one of the train’s rear-most boxcars. It was one that mostly stored bags and suitcases. She saluted the two soldiers standing guard and realized that the Captain must have placed them their to keep watch.

‘It’s just a kid… no, I suppose it’s better that they follow the regulations to the letter. I’d rather deal with these one-off annoyances than for my subordinates to ignore the protocol and risk a child stealing supplies from under our noses. I suppose I should be glad this kid didn’t try sneaking into the boxcar carrying our ammunition or this inconvenience could have turned into an outright farce. ’

She walked in to see the crying and sniveling form that looked almost like her mirror image: a blonde-haired girl roughly her age. The sounds of her sniveling reminded her of the brats at the orphanage and she could almost feel a headache coming on just from Pavlovian instinct.

“You cannot stay here, miss. You-”

The girl did not lift her head, but clenched her fists and yelled.

“Go away! I’m not leaving until I go to Ishval!”

Tanya turned back towards the exit and wondered if this was a prank the Battalion was playing on her in poor-taste.

“This train is headed in the other direction. We’re going to East City so please-”

“My parents are in Ishval so-”

The girl cut her off, looked up and finally realized who she was talking to.

“Uh, who are you? I don’t know you from my class. Hey, that’s a pretty good uniform! I almost thought you were a soldier for a second!”

Tanya brought a hand to her face, cradling her temples to stave off any potential headache.

“I am a soldier. Colonel Tanya Degurechaff, the Mythril Alchemist, and I could ask you the same question. Who-”

Tanya was again cut off as the girl jumped up and bee-lined straight into her personal space.

“What?! But everyone said that Ed and Al were the youngest alchemists in, like, forever! If you’re so good at alchemy, prove it! ”

‘Well, I suppose this is better than the crying. Maybe a little light-show will get her to trust me enough to kick her out.’

It was something she learned in the orphanage; the other children were too stupid to be coerced through logic and reason, but using a little Alchemy was often enough to stop them from pulling her away from her reading to “play tag” or any other childish frivolity. It never worked for long, but it was usually good enough for her to quickly find a new hiding spot away from the snot-nosed brats.

Tanya sighed and looked around for something she could use. She noticed a large artillery barrel had been stored with the bags. Based on the markings on it, it had fired the 3000 shells it was rated for and was too worn and warped to be accurate anymore. It was destined for some training regiment for test practice until it would be inevitably melted down into something else, which meant she did not run any risk of damaging it.

Using her Operation Orb, she activated Empower into her gauntlets and was surrounded by the faint-blue light of Alchemy. Grabbing the barrel, she effortlessly lifted the quarter-ton slab of metal from off the floor of the boxcar and then lowered it back down with equal ease.

The child was suitably surprised.

“W-what?! B-but alchemy needs a circle! Wait. Ed and Al said that their teacher could do Alchemy without a circle… are… are you Ed and Al’s teacher?!”

Tanya looked at the child with bewilderment.

“I don’t know who you’re talking about. I’m surprised you know about Transmutation Circles, but if you’re interested, I can talk all about it outside.”

The child seemed to initially buy her ploy, but it seemed she was a bit smarter than the children she was raised with in the orphanage.

“No! I’m not leaving until I go to Ishval…”

Just as Tanya was about to relent and use force, a voice chimed in from behind her.

“They’re not coming back, Winry.”

Tanya turned to see Captain Neumann standing behind an unremarkable old woman. The Captain appeared apologetic, probably realizing that having a civilian this close to the train was making a generous interpretation of her orders.

“Sorry Colonel. This woman claims to be the child’s Grandmother.”

The elderly lady nodded with a hint of anger on her face.

“That’s right. I’m Pinako Rockbell and this young lady here is my granddaughter Winry who is in really big trouble for trying to run away from home! I taught you better than that!”

The child let out another cry and ran over and hugged her grandmother with tears in her eyes.

“B-but you said mom and dad were dead! They can’t be dead! They just sent me a letter a month ago!”

Pinako sighed, rubbing the top of her granddaughter’s head.

“Winry, that letter was sent over two months ago. I’m sorry Winry, but I received another letter last week. They’re gone.”

“But why didn’t you say anything!”

The grandmother also began to tear up.

“I did. Today. I had hoped I would have more time, but I couldn’t let you hold out hope that they would be coming back now that the war is over.”

Having an innate feeling of being the third-wheel in the room, Tanya spoke up.

“Please, let me take you two home.”

---

If there was any consolation to Tanya’s involvement in the situation, it was that Winry had apparently never ridden in an automobile before. So when she had the two of them ride in the back of her staff car to their small home on the outskirts of town, the small child was too transfixed with the new experience to be too sad about the sudden revelation of her parents’ passing.

Just as the Colonel was about to leave however, she noticed the sign on their door.

“Are you an Automail Mechanic, Pinako?”

The old woman nodded her head warily.

“Yes, that’s right.”

Tanya could not let an opportunity go by, and in the off chance it helped, she would be remiss to ignore it. Heading back to the car, she took out a small pamphlet from a side compartment and handed it to the woman.

“I realize that the Automail business might be booming right now, but if you’re ever in need of any work, I’m hiring any certified Automail specialists for good pay.”

Pinako gave her an angry look.

“That’s rather bold of you to think I would work with the military after failing to protect my son.”

Tanya was an industrialist at heart and did not consider the implication of giving that offer in a military uniform. She winced at the implication.

“Ah, no, this isn’t strictly military-related. Please, just consider it. I’m looking into alternative uses of Automail, it’s an incredible new field! You would need to sign non-disclosure agreements like any government work, but you wouldn’t be under any obligation or contract. I know how valuable Automail technicians are. While there are military applications, I’m happy to hire conscientious objectors to work on civilian-only projects we have in construction or factory work.”

Pinako eyed her up, but pocketed the brochure anyway.

“Well, I suppose with how much trouble my granddaughter has been, that’s the least we can do. Now, Winry, say goodbye to the Colonel.”

The small girl seemed appropriately contrite and fiddled with her dress underneath her jacket.

“Ah… bye-bye Colonel.”

Tanya nodded and turned back to the car, regretting her poor “sales pitch” for her Operation Orb Research. She sighed, doubting she would ever see the Rockbells again.

Just as her driver got her vehicle moving, she noticed the idyllic landscape. While it was a little cold, the gentle rolling hills and farmland reminded her of the more quiet parts of Japan.

‘Huh, I wouldn’t have suspected that somewhere so close to Ishval would look this nice… The housing prices must be rock bottom right now. Perhaps I should consider investing in real-estate, could be a good place to retire.’

It was a shame that there was numerous families like the Rockbells, devastated by the horrors of war, but there were also many people like her that vowed to stop another like it from ever happening. She was optimistic about the future and looked forwards to decades of peace to come.

Chapter Text

January 23^rd, 1909, 3^rd Floor West Research Wing, Laboratory 3, Central, Amestris – Visha POV

When working for the Mythril Alchemist, there was never any rest. Neither Colonel Tanya Degurechaff’s new rank or the new peace the 203^rd had won in Ishval had changed her behavior much. Rather, with the lack of constant fighting to distract her, Visha’s commander now had the opportunity to expand on the numerous technical and administrative tasks her Operation Orb Project required in preparation for her yearly review in May.

That meant more work for Visha as well. When she was not training with the rest of the 203 ^rd on honing the tactics and strategies they developed in the Ishval Civil War, she was helping the Mythril Alchemist with her paperwork or fetching information from the various branches of the National Central Library to help her research. She barely had time to think, yet alone to do the fun things she had been used to in the past: to shop, to party, to hang out with friends.

Visha loved it.

Throughout her entire life, her decisions had been fraught with guilt and hesitation. She had struggled to find a place to belong in Amestris, and had graduated in the middle of her class despite being good friends with geniuses like Enya Müller. Until she met the Colonel, she did not think she had done anything meaningful in her life so any time she had any fun, she had always wondered in the back of her mind if she deserved it. How could she be happy while the childhood friends and family behind in Drachma were dead or working in forced labor camps?

‘But now, everything is perfect. I follow the Colonel and I feel like I belong; like I am part of something better, something greater than myself. Just by following her orders, miracles happen. Wars end, lives are saved and my future is secure… at least mostly.’

There had been little “hiccups” along the way. Enya – her aforementioned friend – had not responded to her letters, her calls and had moved from the apartment she promised Visha could stay in if she ever came to Central. It was like her friend had suddenly vanished and Visha did not know what that could mean. It hurt, but she had made a number of new friends in the Battalion and no longer had the luxury of time to reconnect.

A nother one of those problems walked up to her in the hallway.

Lieutenant Colonel Solf J. Kimblee gave her a fake-looking smile. Since the end of the War, he kept wearing the Desert uniform: a white overcoat on top of the normal blue outfit.

“Hello Visha, are you here to meet with Tanya?”

Visha narrowed her eyes at the man.

“That is 1^st Lieutenant Serebryakova to you, Crimson Alchemist. As the Mythril Alchemist Colonel Tanya Degurechaff’s Adjutant, it should be obvious that I would either be leaving on errands for her or working alongside her extremely important tasks. Not all of us have the luxury of free time as you, sir.”

At first, she had been friendly with the Lieutenant Colonel. He had wanted to know more about Tanya – as any sane person should – and Visha was glad to relate to him her experiences with the Commander. After a while, however, he started being… weird about it; spending far more time working together with their unit than made sense. Tanya insisted he helped in her research and so – while the man was lax on decorum and acted like a con-artist – she would tolerate him, but hoped he would leave the 203^rd alone.

The State Alchemist brought up his hands in mock surrender, but his contrite tone was mismatched with his smug expression.

“Whoa… I’m sorry if I offended you. You see, I was just leaving from a little meeting with our cute Mythril. We have organized a few joint exercises between my 263^rd Artillery and your 203^rd Battalion, the usual: shield practice for you, target practice for us. I was just letting you know that she was in her office.”

Visha tried not to feel guilty for her assumption since she knew the man was being insincere. She stepped up to the Lieutenant Colonel and looked him in the eyes.

“I don’t know what you’re up to, but the 203^rd has its eyes on you.”

Instead of an appropriate reaction – fear, anger, dismissal – the Crimson Alchemist gave her a smug look and continued walking down the hallway. Without looking back, he waved a hand goodbye.

“You’ve got good instincts. I look forward to it.”

Visha scowled.

‘What the hell is that supposed to mean?!’

---

Visha did not have time to think about that and got back on track. Entering the newly built office of the Mythril Alchemist, her commander was busy as usual with a mound of paperwork, research material and alchemy diagrams organized neatly on her desk. The smile Tanya gave her as Visha arrived put one of her own face. The discussion with the Lieutenant Colonel long forgotten.

Visha handed over a book to the smaller officer who placed it with a growing pile on a nearby table.

“Here you go Commander. This was all I could find on ‘Aerodynamic Design’ in the 6^th Branch Library. The librarian was surprised there was anything at all. Are you sure about this? It seems like every time someone tries to make a flying machine, it looks good for the press, but doesn’t pan out. There has been a lot of news about passenger Dirigibles in Creta a few years ago, but I haven’t heard anything since the war began. ”

The Colonel looked tapped the book she had just received and shook her head.

“Once I brush up on the math, I’ll show you the difference between those toys and what I plan on making. Unwieldy balloons are a technological dead-end. Heavier-than-air flight is much more complicated, but the results will speak for itself. Besides, I won’t be able to keep my State Alchemist License if I don’t have something to ‘wow’ an audience and I won’t put myself on the spot like I did last time.”

Visha tried to think what “heavier-than-air” flight could mean, but could only imagine a bird. Unless the Colonel was planning on strapping some wings to her and have her flap… she shook her head. With the impossible things her commander had made until now, Visha knew better than to question it.

“I look forward to it Colonel.”

The Mythril Alchemist nodded before smiling and grabbing a piece of paper from off her desk.

“Speaking of things to look forward to… I have a surprise for you. 1^st Lieutenant Serebryakova. Because of your hard work over the past few weeks, you’ve earned yourself a promotion to Captain. You can also see fit to choose any posting you want in the 12^th Division and I will wholeheartedly support you. You’ve certainly earned it.”

The Colonel gave the piece of paper to her, but Visha could hardly hold it. She was shocked to the point of terror. Unbidden tears streamed down her cheeks as she got on her knees and grabbed the Colonel by her small shoulders.

“W-Why do you want me to leave?! Have I not done a good enough job? I know it took a long time to work out the paperwork with Major Weiss but-”

Tanya looked confused for a moment, but instead of the understanding Visha hoped for, the Colonel just looked annoyed.

She whispered “Why are you all like this?” and stepped away from her with a groan.

“Captain, please stop. You’ve done an excellent job as my Adjutant – I would certainly miss your coffee – but why do you want to stay? I gave the same recommendation to the whole 203^rd and none of you want to move on. The war is over. Don’t you want to a safe and successful career? Several of you would make excellent cadre for the newest batch of Alchemist Operators that will be coming soon.”

‘How could we be any more successful without you? I would have probably died on some battlefield without you.’

At the realization her leader did not want her to leave, Visha quickly wiped away her tears, stood up and saluted her commander.

“I’m afraid you’re stuck with us. We are with you all the way, sir!”

---

With her worries taken care of, Visha settled into a neighboring desk and got to work.

The two of them had spent the past week coordinating with the dozen-or-so automail mechanics that now worked for them on their Operation Orb research labs were to be set up. There had been a lot of arguing over the past few days on what tools would be needed, what areas should be dedicated to: machining rooms, labs, alchemy experimentation, and even a foundry. It looked like it would take days of intense debate until Tanya “settled” the matter. In her usual decisive fashion, she put it to a vote, promptly ignored half of the recommendations and organized everything the way she wanted anyway.

“It can be changed to something else later,” their leader ordered, silencing any opposition and getting them back on track.

In the meantime, Visha and her superior had been busy with paperwork, mostly figuring out where their State Funding should be allocated to. It was part of the reason why Tanya had forced a decision regarding space: there was a lot of uncertainty regarding what areas of the project would be getting funding at all. What did they need? Should machining get more of the funding now to make more prototypes, or should the labs get more funding for experiments so less prototypes would be needed? In the end, Tanya decided on “the time-honored tradition of out-sourcing redundant work to the free market”. Most of the work was done by engineers and technicians in the city and the finished products were sent back to the automail mechanics hired by the project for assembly and testing.

At least, that was the plan. However, it did not seem that things had been going according to whatever plan the Colonel initially envisioned and she groaned for the fourth time in the past five minutes.

Normally Visha ignored her commander’s laments. Not for lack of effort! She was always willing to help her commander. However, in the past, she had tried to understand why her commander would be upset. As an Adjutant, as a subordinate, and as a friend, Visha wanted to share in her commander’s frustrations. However, she soon realized that her commander worked on a higher-level then she ever could. The Colonel’s frustrations usually were the result of some radical, world-changing invention having not yet been invented or that the world-class Amestrian institutions could not live up to her genius intellect and had failed to give her adequate answers to her questions. All Visha could do was share in her leader’s frustration and hope that saying some common-sense thing might lead Tanya to her daily paradigm-shattering revelation.

This time, however, Visha sensed that her commander’s sorrow was a little more “down-to-earth”.

“Colonel? Is there something wrong?”

Tanya did not look up from her paperwork, instead handing a document over to her.

“Captain Serebryakova, can you give me your opinion on these prices? It’s been a long time since I’ve been to the market.”

Taking the document, Visha examined it with all her might! However, it seemed that even a cursory examination was all that was needed to see what was wrong.

“These prices are… very high, Colonel.”

Tanya shook her head and sighed.

“That’s what I was afraid of. Until now, I’d left a lot of the high-level, day-to-day operations to my mentor the Silver Alchemist. He was far more experienced in these things than I was. I had focused solely on quickly developing the Mark 1 Operation Orb and training to be an officer that I never considered the herculean task Major Comanche had faced to get this project off the ground.”

Visha was confused. This was not a matter of experience.

“What do you mean? I meant that these prices are just completely wrong. 30 Cens per gram of Silver? 100,000 Cens for a compound microscope? Some of these prices are over 10 times what it would be to just buy them at a shop in town. It’s highway robbery! I’m not sure why… could there be someone in Central Command out to get you!”

Tanya gave her a wry smile.

“Maybe you’ll make for a great Industrialist someday. No, of course there isn’t a conspiracy. I have no enemies – at least none in Amestris – and even if I did, this would require a coordinated effort that would be obvious to someone in Procurement or Accounting. The reality is that this is just the way things are with government work. Between requisitions, approvals, certification and acquisition, there’s a lot of overhead and that comes with cost. I get exactly what we want without needing to worry about quality or variance which is sure to make things cheaper in the long term, but this means my plans on outsourcing work to civilian contractors is now up in smoke. This list of prices also came with a rejection by the Procurement Office.”

Her commander scowled.

“There’s no way for us to reduce our budget or cut corners except by changing scope… and we’re going to need to make a lot of changes.”

That did not sound right to Visha, but she also did not have any experience with that sort of thing. Visha was worried for a different reason though. While they could change a few things, this was still a Fürer-sanctioned project with a lot of oversight with many things set in stone. There were few things they could change without causing problems.

“But what can we do? If we fail to meet the deadlines… The project and your State Certification are riding on this, aren’t they?”

The Colonel sighed.

“At one point I wouldn’t have minded that… but I have a goal now and I won’t let this stop me. We have to do what we can and make the most of what we have. Things aren’t desperate yet… I’m sure I can work something out.”

---

February 1^st, 1909, 12^th Division Headquarters, Central, Amestris – Halcrow POV

It was one month since the end of the Ishval war, and Lieutenant General Halcrow was once again face-to-face with the Mythril Alchemist. With little more than a quick message to his secretary regarding a recent development, the frazzled-looking child officer and her female adjutant were sitting across from him in his office and detailing a depressingly familiar situation to him.

Colonel Degurechaff finished her retelling with a frustrated huff.

“And that’s the situation.”

Halcrow frowned.

“To summarize: because of these administrative issues, you won’t make the deadline for your yearly State Alchemist review at the end of May? I can see how this will cause trouble for us. Any political action we try to take will be killed in the womb if you have… professional concerns.”

It seemed that the Colonel could read between the lines at what he was inferring about her capabilities.

“Please understand that I’ve tried what I could, sir. I want to assure you of that. I’m not bringing this up as an excuse to get out of work! I’ve cut costs and corners, I’ve started experimenting with Stainless Steel instead of Silver with promising results… but the deadline is too close. I’ve made some small progress since the Mark 1 Orb I jointly developed with the Silver Alchemist, but it isn’t enough. To complete the design of my new Orb, I need to retain all of my automail experts so I can iterate the prototypes, but I’ve spent all of my budget on materials and equipment. If I don’t get some alternate sources of funds, I won’t be able to make debt repayments or pay out salaries.”

Halcrow bit back a grimace.

‘This isn’t normal, especially considering the self-evident genius of the Mythril Alchemist. This has to be some sort of scheme… State-sanctioned resources are more expensive, but only by a few percent, not an order of magnitude. Something this obvious could only originate from Procurement. Anywhere else would require so many people that the conspiracy would fall apart… but the Procurement Office is firmly in my Central Faction’s control and she could easily just bring the Fürer down on the fools who would date interfere with his pet project.’

He had a revelation.

‘Ah, that’s why the Colonel isn’t trying to throw blame. She’s trying to find a peaceful means to avoid in-fighting. The price gouging is obvious, but she would be doing neither of us any favors by trying to pin the blame on our own Faction. I’m glad she has a good political head on her shoulders. But why is this happening? Is this the Aristocrats trying a pre-emptive strike? How did they know what we were planning?’

Halcrow scratched his chin in thought.

“What about appealing to the Fürer to… handle these problems or even just reducing the scope? Surely this means the project is infeasible to anyone. I know you, and if you can’t do this on your budget, no one could.”

The Mythril Alchemist gave a sad smile and shook her head.

“I appreciate your confidence in me, but the true problem is that I am not the genius you think I am. I’m competent and have a few unique insights, but it is clear from my failure here that the true talent in the creation of the Operation Orb program was the Silver Alchemist. Major Giolio Comanche certainly never came across problems like this.”

Halcrow read between the lines again.

‘False modesty? No… she wants to frame it like that. She’s willing to share in her Operation Orb’s success with someone if it means avoiding the political fallout and buy me time to figure out what’s going on.’

He nodded his head and double-checked his assumption.

“So if I can find someone to ‘fix’ this problem for you, you would be fine sharing the success with them if it meant meeting the deadline?”

She hesitated for a moment before nodding.

He gave her a pitiful look.

‘I once envied her rapid rise to success. I was 36-years-old when I became a Colonel, but I can see that nothing good comes without cost. There are a few ways I could help her… but my own position is tenuous right now and helping would be like tying myself to a sinking ship. If she’s half the soldier I think she is, she should be able to come up with some solution without my help and then I could keep her afloat. As much as I consider myself her comrade, we aren’t such good friends that I would risk my career to prevent hers from collapsing.’

He shook his head and sighed.

“I’m afraid there’s nothing I can do. If someone was cutting your budget or trying to transfer some of your personnel, I would have fought for you tooth and nail, but any help I give for this would be a slight against the Procurement Office. It would appear that I was letting my promotion get to my head and throwing my new rank around like a tyrant. I would need specific proof of wrongdoing: doctored orders, incorrect statements, that sort of thing.”

It was subtle, but he could see the dismayed look on her face before she schooled her features.

“Well… like I said, there isn’t any wrongdoing here, so what would you suggest I do now?”

He sighed. While he could not throw in any support, he could at least give a hint.

“The only solution would be to find some other source of funding, or take this to the Fürer. It is in his best interest that your project is successful after all.”

The Colonel grimaced.

“That’s a dead end. Our leader has already done enough favors to me. If anything, completing this project perfectly is my chance to repay President Bradley. As for funding, how could that work? This whole thing made it clear that the military wants to keep the civil sector separate from my project. No. I’ll… I suppose I have no choice but to push for the low-cost solution and pray for better results.”

He did not let his disappointment show.

‘She is just going to give up without a fight? How is she supposed to push a political agenda if she caves at the first attack?’

He nodded, confident in his choice to cut her loose.

“Well, let me know if you need anything else.”

The Colonel got up and left, but her Captain Adjutant did not follow. With a few words, she stayed behind and turned to him with a salute.

He gave her a confused look.

“Yes, is there something you need Captain?”

The Adjutant dropped her salute and glared.

“Sir, you know something don’t you? The Colonel won’t say anything because she holds you in high regard, but I won’t let her career end over something stupid like this! She ended two wars! She deserves better than this!”

The Lieutenant General slammed his desk and pointed a finger at the woman.

“I do not appreciate your tone, Captain! If I am holding anything back, it is because it is in the best interests of the State. Do you even know the extent of the problem your Colonel is facing?”

The Captain did not seem deterred by his shout and clenched a fist to her side.

“There is some sort of conspiracy, that much is obvious. What I don’t understand is what they’re after by trying to destroy Colonel Degurechaff’s career like this? She has done nothing but give her all for Amestris.”

He shook his head.

“No reason at all? No one is jealousy of her rapid rise or her connections? No one would want to take advantage of a young officer for their personal gain? No, the reasons don’t matter here. Let me make this clear, this is no mere ‘conspiracy’ and the Colonel knows that. She obviously knows enough to hold back and not point fingers, unlike a certain subordinate. This involves at least Brigadier General Edison in Procurement and the tacit approval of two other generals. These are members of my own faction that are in good standing. Anyone I might bring in to help Colonel Degurechaff could be in on the scheme for all I know. I would just be tying my fate to hers. I wouldn’t be helping anyone.”

The Captain’s glare turned darker and her hand moved to hold onto the silver Orb at her chest. Her actions were tantamount to pulling out a gun.

“Isn’t that convenient. I suppose you’re saying that you’ve become our enemy, then?”

Not willing to feed into the antics the emotional soldier was displaying, he sat back at his desk and held out his hands in mock surrender.

“Is that how it is? I suppose it would be too much to hope the 203^rd could be cowed by a little authority when you’ve proven yourselves to run headlong into machine-guns without a care.”

The Adjutant tapped a finger on his desk.

“I want to make something clear General. The 203^rd is the Colonel’s Battalion. Without her, there is no 203^rd.”

‘So that rumor is true. That’s at least one reason why someone would try to nip the Colonel in the bud. Building your own army is not a good look.’

Of course, he was smart enough not to point it our to the woman with a metaphorical gun to his head. He gave her a placating gesture.

“You’ve convinced me of your devotion at least, so put down your Orb. Despite what you might think, the Colonel has earned my admiration too. I don’t want to lose her genius any more than you want to lose your leader. While I might have less personal feelings on the matter, we can both at least agree she represents a bright future for our nation.”

Rubbing his face in disbelief of what he was about to do, he grabbed a pad of paper and a pen and jotted down the contact information of a certain individual. Tearing off the sheet, he handed it to her.

She went to grab it but he kept a firm grasp of the note and looked her in the eyes.

“Your violent posturing here didn’t win me over, understand? I already had something of a soft-spot for the Mythril Alchemist. Pull something like this again, and the consequences will reflect on your commanding officer. You understand? Weapons like that Orb around your neck have a place on the battlefield, but you better start thinking a lot more intelligently if you want to survive when the bullets are not flying your way.”

The Captain gave a small nod. Seeing the soldier appearing more level-headed, he released his grip on the paper.

The Adjutant looked at the information with a shocked expression.

“Sir! This is…?”

He sat back down with a sigh, he would need a drink after this.

“You did not get that from me. You say anything and I’ll deny it. I’m serious when I said holding this back was in the best interests of the State. You reaching out to that contact will cause major upheaval… but at least it will be somewhat controlled.”

As he said that, he realized just how important that piece of paper was.

‘I’m an idiot. Our faction is backing the Mythril Alchemist into a corner! A political activist with a Battalion at her beck-and-call and someone who could personally take control Central Command if she had to. I could only imagine what lengths Tanya would go to if forced. Without any pressure, she invented a world-changing technology. When given a chance to fight and with no expectations on her performance, she helped hasten the end of two wars. If she was pressured to choose between the nation and her self-interest, what could’ve unfolded?’

The Captain nodded with some hesitation. Only now did she seem to realize she had threatened an Amestrian General with violence. She saluted.

“I… I understand, sir… and I’m sorry that I… Any punishment you think worthy of-”

He waved her off. Now that he concluded that this was the right course of action, he was willing to overlook the Adjutant’s insubordination.

“Forget it. I can understand you might be a little more wound-up than normal. After all, it’s Colonel Degurechaff’s 10^th birthday today.”

While he might have thought she was shocked by the piece of paper, she looked outright dumbfounded now. She dropped the paper and gaped at him.

“WHAT?!”

‘Ah… have I said too much?’

---

February 8^th, 1909, Armstrong Estate, Central City Outskirts, Amestris – Tanya POV

Colonel Tanya Degurechaff sat in the back of a military officer car as Major Matheus Weiss drove her to her destination towards the end of a picturesque country road just outside Central. Despite the beautiful scenery and the rare moment of quiet Tanya had amid the chaos of her Orb program and organizing of the 203 ^rd Battlation’s new peacetime regimen, her mind raced.

‘I can still salvage this!’

The reason that Major Weiss was driving and not Adjutant Serebryakova was the reason for the trip in the first place. Without her knowledge or consent, her Adjutant had somehow contact the Armstrong Family’s Patriarch directly regarding her financial situation and they were quick to invite her to have lunch at her convenience. The obvious course of action was to put her subordinate on probation while Tanya rushed to their home as fast as possible to beg the Amestrian Oligarchs for leniency on any potential insult the out-of-the-blue request could have caused.

‘I can’t have my subordinates acting on their own. The chain of command exists for a reason. Regardless of how serious my financial problems are, she should have come to me first.’

Her tension only grew as they approached the massive western-style “palace”. She could only compare it to the national estates built in the late Meiji (明治) for the Zaibatsu (財閥) elite. She wondered – had she still been alive on Earth – if she would have had a Christmas party in a building like that one by now. He had always just been a little too low on the corporate ladder, but maybe she might have been VP of Human Resources by now.

‘No, I can’t reminisce about the past! I have an emergency to handle.’

In the midst of her silent panic, Major Weiss spoke up from the driver’s seat.

“Please don’t hold Visha’s actions against her, Colonel. She was only trying to do the right thing-”

Tanya cut him off, looking into his eyes from the rear-view mirror.

“That is enough Major Weiss. This is not a democracy. I will not tolerate anyone questioning her probation. Her going to the Armstrongs was a mistake, and I aim to correct that today.”

Her subordinate looked embarrassed.

“Ah, I was actually talking about your birthday party.”

She froze and felt a flush of embarrassment in turn. She turned away with a cough.

“That’s… nothing to be concerned about. I had forgotten all about my birthday – the date is hardly relevant – and the party was… fine. If you keep to a similarly-sized and modest affair in the future, then I have no concerns.”

She noted a certain look of displeasure in the Major’s face. She narrowed her eyes.

‘I’ll need to keep a close eye on our finances. If they are planning to throw a bunch of parties at the drop of a hat just because the war is over, they have another thing coming. We’re in dire financial straits as it is. I will not go down in history as yet another employer that sunk their business with champagne and caviar… or barrels of brätwurst and beer as the case may be with the 203^rd.’

The car stopped at the entrance and the two of them got out. Before they could even approach the door, it opened an a number of well-dressed butlers and maids walked out.

The oldest butler stepped forwards. Based on his more expensive attire, Tanya could only assume he must be the one in charge.

“Colonel Degurechaff and party. May we take your coats?”

Not knowing how to respond to the attendant, Weiss and herself silently passed their military hats and jackets to the nearby maids who disappeared quickly into the house. Without a word, the butler gestured inside and guided them through the spacious foyer. The huge room was dominated by a wide, bifurcated, curved staircase with balustrade statues of muscular heroic figures. They passed under a grand crystal chandelier, filled with electric candles and built with more silver than she had seen in her life; a tall order for someone who worked with the material for a living. She felt that the decor was ostentatious and gaudy, but she knew better than to comment that in front of “the help”.

At the end of a connecting hallway – inlaid with wood-paneled gold filigree and floored with a rich, dark marble – the butler opened a door into a large dining area. At the far end of the dining table sat what she could only assume were the members of the Armstrong family who were quietly eating something. She immediately recognized the towering form of Major Alex Armstrong to the left of his father General Philip Armstrong who sat at the head of the table; she had met both of them in the past. She was surprised to realize that they were not the only imposing figures. To the Armstrong Patriarch’s right were four ladies. The one to his immediate right could only be the General’s wife based on her age and resemblance to the others who must have been Alex’s sisters. While two of the sisters appeared to be twins of the Major in physicality and age, the last sister out-of-place in her cute but otherwise ordinary looks. She was diminutive and young, not much older than herself.

‘I had thought that Major Armstrong was the exception, but it appears that the apple does not fall far from the tree. They certainly look the part of a nation-building family. This is not a household of doughy-looking wastrels. That sort of physique – especially for woman – is something that could only come from rigorous hard work and dedication. I know from experience. In my last life, I never did much strenuous exercise, but had a healthy, large figure. Yet, no matter how much I exercise now, I still look like a scrawny child.’

The Armstrong Family had not so much as uttered a word, yet their very presence demanded respect.

General Philip Armstrong looked up his food at her arrival and smiled. He held out his arms wide.

“Ah, Miss Degurechaff! A pleasure to meet you again! The last time we met was at the hospital under less than ideal circumstances. We had little time to get to know one-another.”

‘He remembers me? No. More likely he did his homework and discovered we met briefly in the past. I cannot imagine that out of the had hundreds of visits like that after the victory over Creta under his command, he would remember a lowly Major who blundered her first assignment. Unlike the Fürer’s visit, I did not get the impression that our former meeting was a scheme to save face or for some political goal.’

Of course, she did not dare imply he was lying and so stayed silent about her observation. Instead, the Colonel clicked her polished boots together and gave the General a smart salute. Major Weiss quickly followed suit.

“Thank you for the kind words General Armstrong, sir!”

The General gave her a casual wave.

“Please, Miss. Degurechaff, none of that. Let’s leave the ranks at the door, if you would. Think of this as just a friendly chat with my family.”

The Butler sat her opposite the General at the foot of the table. Before Tanya sat down, a small cushion was added to the seat allowing her to sit up higher in the chair. As she sat down, her mind was working in overdrive.

‘This is already off to a terrible start! Had he insisted we kept military ranks, we would be only 4 ranks apart. It is entirely conceivable he has an Adjutant with the rank of Colonel. However, by insisting that we dispense of them, I am just a normal civilian speaking to the leader of a juggernaut of industry!’

Before she could think deeper into the web of intrigue she was finding herself in, the youngest member of the Armstrong family spoke up.

“Oh, have you met daddy before?”

Before Tanya could respond, General Armstrong tapped his head with the knuckles of one hand.

“My apologies Miss. Degurechaff, it seems that I am getting ahead of myself. Let me introduce you to my loving family. You have already met Alexander, my son, and this beautiful princess is Catherine.”

The young Catherine was flush with embarrassment and shyly twirled her hair with a finger.

“D-daddy, stop!”

Tanya heard a “aww” sound and turned to see Major Weiss staring at the young woman with a smile on his face. She kicked him underneath the table and he turned away with a flush.

‘I suppose it is expected that a married man might be drawn to “dote” on a cute kid, but I’ve never seen Major Weiss act like that before.’

She turned to the family with newfound wariness.

‘Major Armstrong could elicit strange responses like that too, couldn’t he? Despite his dramatic antics, the moment he walked into a room, everyone was drawn in by his “charisma”. Everyone always ignored his wild antics and muscular poses… but could this be a learned skill? A class of tactics this family uses to lower my guard? Is this how the Armstrong family came to dominate the civilian market?’

Ignorant of her internal thought process, the General continued his introduction, pointing to the muscle-bound female twins. They were the spitting image of their brother.

“These two wonderful ladies are my daughters Amue and Strongine.”

Unlike the other family members, they seemed indifferent to her and instead seem to be glaring at Weiss for some reason who was doing his best to avoid their eyes. She did not know what her subordinate did to offend them, but she politely smiled at them, hoping to undo whatever offense they seem to have unintentionally made.

Finally, the General held hands with the tall, stern woman to his right.

“And last – but certainly not least – is my beautiful wife.”

The older woman did not emote, but simply nodded in their direction.

“Please just call me Mrs. Armstrong.”

With the introductions out of the way, the General snapped his fingers and a few maids delivered them their meals. The server described the meal as it was placed before her.

“Salmon fillet with Dill-cream and smoked Sturgeon, served with a watercress salad of Rye Berry, Almond, Beetroot and Lemon Vinaigrette.”

The food looked delicious, but she was surprised by the simplicity. While it was clearly made by a seasoned chef, it was also made of simple ingredients that probably came from the local area. The bright pink-flesh of the salmon, the smell of the fresh seafood, and the rice-like nature of the Rye Berries appealed to her Japanese sensibilities and she felt her mouth water. Despite her best efforts, it appeared that the General caught onto her hunger and chuckled.

“Please, dig in. That we already started was rude of us, but I hope you do not begrudge us our time together as a family before we get into business.”

She flushed at being caught but decided to go along with the General’s recommendation. She ate for a few more minutes, hoping both that the satisfaction of her hunger would allow her to think more clearly, but also to buy time.

‘They keep distracting me and every second I waste is critical! I cannot let slip the truth: that this meeting wasn’t my idea. Not only could that ruin the career of my capable Adjutant, but it would be tantamount to blaming the Armstrongs for the mistake. No matter how you frame it, I would be burning a valuable bridge with one of the wealthiest families in Amestris! Therefore, I must make a sincere request for their support, but I don’t need to push too strongly. After all, it is obvious that the State is trying to keep my Project separate from the Civil Sector. Unless the Armstrongs can change that, I would just be throwing myself out of the pan and into the fire.’

That would need to be her first line of inquiry.

“I have to admit that I am surprised you’re even considering my request. I had thought that these sorts of military projects would be useless to you. I can only imagine that there would be a number of harsh stipulations and conditions attached that would make profiting from it very difficult. The State keeps a tight control of this sort of thing. After all, this is a new technology and the risk of other nations taking advantage is dangerous.”

The General chuckled. He swallowed some food he was eating and politely dabbed at his mouth with a napkin.

“It is nice to have the next generation caring for their elders, but this old man made a name for himself doing exactly that. What you say is true, but this family has a lot of pull in the military. We have ways for to get a civilian ‘Operation Orb Project’ off the ground. The internal combustion engine and high-explosives were also solely military projects before they were turned into Armstrong Industry trucks and land-clearing demolitions. In fact, my promotion to General is thanks to that. Your Operation Orb seems like it could add onto that legacy.”

Tanya was shocked by his words. Her first meeting with Major Armstrong had led her to believe their family was just a minor one, but they seemed to be anything but! The Armstrongs must have been the Amestrian version of the Mitsubishi Family whose organization made everything from electronics to tanks for Imperial Japan. She had been comparing their home to those of the Zaibatsu (財閥), but she did not realize how on-the-mark she had been.

‘This changes things! If General Armstrong has that kind of pull, then my dream of a retirement off of my hard work is closer than ever! I had always planned for the Operation Orb to be an economic revolution first and foremost!’

She sat up in her chair and looked towards the Armstrongs with a wide smile.

“I am making great headway on exactly that! My current research into low-cost steel Orbs have shown a lot of promise. While they would not be of much use for the military, I can see many civilian applications. A simplified version of the ‘Empower’ Operation could be used in the creation of a ‘powered exoskeleton’ giving the average worker the ability to move heavy objects without strain. The ‘Flight’ Operation could open the door to heavier-than-air commercial aviation, cutting down the need for expensive railways and possibly allowing for express delivery of vital goods to remote areas. Even something like ‘Deflect’ and ‘Destroy’ could have applications in civilian police forces as safer and lower-cost alternatives to armor and non-lethal weapons in crowd-control.”

To her dismay, the General was not as enthused about her developments as she had hoped. He was only politely nodding along and seemed more interested in eating than anything else.

“I can certainly see there are a number of enticing avenues of development. Still, I cannot help but be concerned regarding the cause of all this. It seems like there is something of a conspiracy against you.”

Tanya was shocked that even a great General and leading member of industry had heard the ridiculous rumors.

‘Why does everyone jump to that? Should I be flattered that they think my administrative incompetence is not my fault, or insulted that they think my situation is so bad that the only explanation possible is conspiracy? The last thing I want them to think is that there is some sort of “boogeyman” they would be fighting with their offer of support.’

She let out an awkward laugh at that, desperately trying to play down the hoax before he thought she “political dead weight”.

“Oh no, nothing like that. It is... regrettable to say that while I have some skill in the development and use of new technologies and tactics as well as some capacity as a a military leader, I’ve had trouble with managing the financial affairs of a government project. While your support will certainly help me with this, I’m adamant that I can solve this on my own if I needed to.”

With a snap of his fingers, General Armstrong’s meal was finished and a butler came to remove his plate and utensils.

“In that case, it seems that the Armstrong family has things to think about. Please feel free to finish your meal if-”

Tanya clenched her fists and sat up. She knew a dismissal when she heard one. She had made her case and she did not have the luxury of wasting any time.

‘This is fine… I didn’t have any expectations going into this meeting anyway…’

She gave him a salute and did not let her disappointment show on her face.

“Not at all. I thank you for the meal, but both myself and my second here have much work left to do.”

Only then did she realize that her subordinate looked to be enjoying his meal until that point. She regretted trying to leave so soon, but she had little choice now.

The last thing she wanted to show was that their finances were so tight that she was considering rationing her men and that this meal might be the last one good one they might have for a long time.

---

February 8^th, 1909, Armstrong Estate, Central City Outskirts, Amestris – Philip POV

As Miss. Degurechaff left the dining hall and the family housekeepers began clearing the table, he could not help but smile at her retreating form. He turned to his son Alex with visible pride.

“She’s exactly like you told me. Well, I can understand what has you so enamored with her. I would approve if you could get her to join our family. What do you think?”

His son glared at his father.

“Father, please, I’m not enamored! And family?! She is a 9-year-old child. That’s hardly appropriate!”

He chuckled at his embarrassment.

“She’s mature enough to be talking to me as an equal, so I meant it wouldn’t be unheard of to have her adopted. She is an orphan after all. She could go far with an Armstrong education and backing. Ah, did you think I wanted to have her engaged to you?”

At his father’s laughter, Alex realized his misunderstanding, flushed, and looked away.

“No, I didn’t mean-”

A sudden, sharp, pain cut his son off as Philip was smacked across the back of his head. The force of the impact sent the older man out of his seat and into the nearby wall, smashing a pot of flowers nearby. It took a moment for the General to struggle his way back onto his feet. When he had done so, housekeeping silently cleared away the damaged pottery and brush off the flakes of dirt and ceramic that had gotten on his clothes. Philip turned to see his wife glaring at him.

‘She might be the most beautiful woman in the world… but she has a mean right-hook.’

Despite what it might look like to outsiders, the strength of his children could be attributed far more to his wife than himself. While he was no slouch in terms of strength, his wife and their daughter Catherine had physical power that defied their slender appearances.

His wife huffed and looked down at him with a hint of disdain.

“That is enough, dear. Now stop teasing your son.”

He had taken things too far, so he nodded his head.

“Yes, dear.”

Catherine giggled at the scene as he made his way back to sit at the table.

“I liked Tanya a lot! She was like a adorable, teenie-tiny version of big-sis Olivier. Those sharp eyes were like the piercing thrust of a Rapier every time she looked my way! So cute!”

Strongine and Amue nod to each other in silent agreement of something. Stongine was the one to speak up.

“While that man with her was as uncomfortable with our presence as most of those… lickspittles that beg for daddy’s support, little Tanya hardly batted an eye. It’s rare for someone to look on our immaculate physique with anything resembling the respect it deserves!”

At that, the two got up and began to pose. Not willing to be left out, Alex threw his shirt which was caught by one of the staff and joined in. As they flexed, Catherine let out squeals of delight and complimented the size and shape of their muscles. Philip had to hold himself back from joining the fun, however. He had a reason for bringing them into all this after all.

He gestured towards his son.

“What about you? If I remember, you already made up your mind before this meeting.”

Alex gave a fierce quarter turn with a left-hand, 45 degree tilted, double-reverse-bicep. Philip gave him a thumbs-up.

‘Nice!’

With a sparkle in his eyes, his son held the pose as he responded.

“While we never fought together on the battlefield, many people I would trust with my life are all in agreement: she is honest, dependable and very capable. If she has a fault, it’s that… she’s like me. She cares too much and seems like she wants to work herself into an early grave. I say it is our duty as the Armstrong Family Line to help her in any way we can!”

When he finished talking, his son transitioned his pose into a front lat spread and allowed his sister Catherine to hang off one of his arms being held at his sides. Philip cooed at the sight.

‘So cute!’

Philip looked to his wife. Mrs. Armstrong was many things, and being the face of the civilian Armstrong business, she was an excellent judge of character and a shrewd businesswoman.

His wife frowned slightly.

“A child who rose to the rank of Colonel no doubt has many secrets… but she is hiding nothing nefarious, I believe. She is who she presents herself: hardworking and passionate about her research.”

Philip grinned.

“Than you would say it is worth gambling on this ‘Black Horse’ then?”

Alex frowned, and stopped his muscular posing to walk back to the table.

“Gamble? I assure you, father, if Tanya is coming to us with a proposal, it will be a success.”

Philip could only sigh.

‘Has he not picked up an ounce of political insight since joining the military?’

“That’s not the risk I’m referring to, son. You heard what I said. The people I had investigating into her situation found proof of foul play in the Procurement Office regarding Miss. Degurechaff’s project. Think about what that means. She has a project sanctioned by the Fürer, so this problem should be as easy to solve as simply bringing it up to King Bradley.”

His son frowned.

“But then-”

Philip shook his head.

“Unless this who conspiracy was sanctioned by the Fürer.”

His son was shocked at the revelation.

“What?! But Fürer King Bradley is the one who awarded Colonel Tanya with her position! She is a State Alchemist only because of his support!”

Philip frowned but said nothing. He likely knew the truth behind the whole situation, but could not argue his point without saying things he felt were better left unsaid.

“Let’s talk about this another time.”

The Old General winced at the disappointed look his son gave him, but he had nothing left to say on the matter.

At his insistence that the was discussion settled and the meal finished, his children filed out of the room and towards the garden. There was still some time left for the family to enjoy the day before Amue and Strongine needed to get back to managing the Armstrong Construction businesses and Alex would be called back to the military.

Once they were out of sight, only he and his wife were left in the room. She looked at him with a faintly disapproving look.

“It’s because you refuse to talk politics with your children that your relationship with them has grown so bad. If you had only talked with Alex or Olivier about-”

He stopped his wife with a raised hand.

“I know, I know… but that isn’t the Armstrong way. They cannot change with the times and discover their own paths to their bright futures if I’m filling their heads with my own musty old ideas. Alexander and Olivier are both worthy of succeeding me, but that can only happen when they realize the true consequences of their actions. Alex wants to fix things, but he lacks confidence. If he took over, I fear he would be paralyzed with the weight of the tens of thousands of employees’ futures in his hands. Olivier is the opposite. She’s plenty confident with many achievements. She even found success in that desolate posting the military foisted upon her… but she has no concept of compromise. Anyone not up to her high standards would be thrown out. The Armstrong Civilian businesses would be crippled under her leadership.”

Her expression softened and she took her hand in his.

“Then are you sure about this? Think of the risks. Going against the Fürer would mean…”

He nods.

“Going against them. The knowledge about the ‘Artificial Humans’ and their cabal that control the Central Faction is something only passed to the Heirs of the Armstrong Family.”

She squeezed his hand.

“And yet you told me, but not any of your children.”

He shook his head.

“You have to agree, they aren’t ready. The knowledge would only put the family in danger. Olivier would throw caution to the wind and lead a direct assault on the capital, and Alex… I don’t know what he would do, but he would probably do something equally foolhardy. The Ishval War was their scheme after all, if he knew…”

She brought a hand up to his face.

“Can you say this is any different? Betting our family and the future of the nation on a little girl? I stand by my opinion on the Colonel, but no one officer – no matter how capable – is enough to win against them. If things are pushed too far, we could find ourselves in the midst of a Civil War with our family on the front lines.”

His eyes hardened.

“Need I remind you our son has already been involved in a Civil War they instigated.”

She sighed.

“Philip… this is not something to decide emotionally. We will be putting thousands of lives at stake.”

He puffed up his chest.

“These are no mere emotions, my love. These are my Merchant Senses passed down the Armstrong Line for Generations! They have never led me astray! That child is a goldmine and letting her potential be squandered – or worse – letting her be won over by those vile creatures in Central would be tantamount to throwing the Armstrong name into the dustbin of history!”

Mrs. Armstrong huffed, but could not keep a small smile from showing on her face.

“You’re incorrigible.”

He chuckled, but at her serious expression, he could only shake his head and sigh.

“Times are changing, and I can’t let myself be blinded by fear. The Creta Border War, Ishval, the tensions in the north and south? Some horrible plan from Central is being enacted on a grand scale before our eyes… yet we’re completely ignorant. I had always planned to investigate things more proactively, this… this is just moving the timetable forwards a little.”

He gave his wife a sad smile.

“And this is no mercy. I will be using a child as bait to discover their schemes; dangling our support of the Mythril Alchemist for all to see. But… what is the life of one officer in-over-their-head compared to the well-being of our family and the nation?”

Chapter Text

Two Months Later

April 8^th, 1909, Fürer’s Office, Central Headquarters, Central, Amestris – Storch POV

Lieutenant Colonel Storch knew his place.

Storch was not like the “comrades” and “friends” he left behind in Ishval. None of them would amount to anything. Never mind the dead, the living were worse. They all squandered their luck in surviving that hellhole by joining any number of radical groups and whining about all manner of hopeless causes. Some wanted justice for the supposed “Genocide” of Amestrian traitors. Some wanted to split off from Amestris and make their own nations. Others to “fix” the system by giving more power to the military, or to the people, or the workers, or, or, or…

‘What the hell are they hoping to achieve? Sure, I didn’t like everything I saw in Ishval either. Some of that… it keeps me up at night, but I’m not an idiot. The State just proved it was more than willing to kill hundreds of thousands of traitors and I don’t like the odds of facing off against the best military in the world. I’m not going to run my mouth off to everyone I hearing distance and ruin my career just because I might partially agree with something a bunch of crazed radicals said. I’m not going to risk my life for something so petty, not after I survived that war for over 2 years. I’ve had enough death for a lifetime.’

So he sat silently at his desk in the office of the leader of the nation, going through Fürer President King Bradley’s mail with a serious look on his face and due diligence in his heart. He would not let a single word, intention, or hidden meaning slip his focused gaze. He was no bootlicker – he didn’t get his position by flattering his superiors – and the Fürer made it clear that he wanted a secretary that could say no. This was a job he could take pride in.

The leader of Amestris walked in and began to hand his hat and coat on a nearby coat rack. Storch stood up and gave him a crisp salute before grabbing a number of papers from his desk. He followed his leader to his desk and handed a paper to the Fürer as the man sat down.

“Sir, this document pertains to the Veteran's Relief Act tabled by Lieutenant General Gardner. He mentions that he finished work with the Upper House in negotiating down the initial proposal from the Lower House down to ‘something reasonable’ in his words.”

The Fürer nodded absentmindedly as he skimmed the pages. He rubbed his chin in thought.

“So they finally finished with that… two months too late to do any real good. What was the percentage of Veterans that was said to be in those radical terrorist groups now?”

It sounded like a rhetorical question, but the look being given to Storch urged him to respond. With most of his former friends involved in those groups, he put an effort into keeping up with the latest reports about them coming in from intelligence, if only to reinforce his decision never to get involved with them. As such, he knew the answer by heart.

However, he could not risk Fürer Bradley knowing why he knew or his leader might mistake his interest for sympathy. As such, the secretary paused in an effort to pretend he had to think hard about it.

“I think… it was around 2% sir.”

The Fürer frowned.

“So about three- to five-thousand people. Is that right?”

That was a rhetorical question this time, so Storch waited until President Bradley shook his head and slapped the document with the back of his hand.

“What a mess. Accepting the Lower House’s recommendation upfront would have destroyed these ‘movements’ in the womb. A few thousand Cens for every unemployed veteran is a drop in the bucket compared to what’s going to hit this nation once those terrorists start mobilizing. Could have saved money and work in the long-run and given the military a needed popularity coup after the War’s mismanagement. Idiots.”

‘I should be playing devil’s advocate for this, shouldn’t I? I can’t be seen as a yes-man like former secretary Klemin, or I’ll be fired.’

It was something he was struggling to get the hang of for the past month of his employment. To speak up and against his leader in a way that drove discussion, but did not appear politically or personally motivated.

“The increased taxes would have lead to problems with the aristocrats and industrialists. We needed to involve the Upper House or there would have been political gridlock.”

The Fürer is silent for a moment before he clenches a fist. Signing the document, he threw it into the “outgoing” box on his desk.

“I’ll let them have their ‘win’. But if they think this is over…”

He gave Storch an insincere-looking grin.

“Once the terrorism starts, they’ll find no mercy from me. Maybe a few ‘top-placed’ military sources will leak something to the press reminding the public that they held the government hostage over this. They’ll get a harsh reminder about which side of my State has the popular support. I’ll rake them over the coals for thinking they can get away with making my job harder.”

It was true: his leadership was considered borderline infallible by the common person. Even the terrorists were careful not to mention the Fürer by name and for good reason. Everything he did only seemed to reinforce that he was a powerful man who only wanted the best for the nation. He regularly heard the sentiment among his comrades in Ishval: “If only the Fürer wasn’t hampered by our incompetent bureaucracy…”

Storch knew the real truth.

The Fürer snapped his fingers.

“Next.”

With his leader in a bad mood, Storch searched for something more “tame”. He handed over another document.

“Here’s a budgetary approval for a new infrastructure development project in the West. The fortifications on the border are progressing slowly and Western Headquarters is requesting more funding from the civil sector for better roads and railways.”

President Bradley did not even glance at the paper, but signed without reading. It was actually more common for him to do that than anything else. He signed hundreds of bills, acts, budgets, and laws into effect on any given week. The documents were already curated by the Central Faction and summarized by Storch so the Fürer usually only read things that he needed more information on. He was the Fürer after all. No one dared to cross him and no signed paper would change the fate of those that did. Storch believed that with every fiber of his being; his instincts from Ishval were telling him that he was the most powerful man in more ways than just politically .

The President shrugged as he toss the document with the previous one.

“The situation in the West didn’t resolve itself the way we planned, but our quota there was met, so it’s not a problem. This is a small price to keep the Academic Faction happy. They can huddle up in their fortresses for all I care. The blood samples of Creta’s Chimera program we received were worth ending that war early.”

‘I’m glad I’m on the winning side.’

That was one thing he never took for granted: Fürer-President King Bradley was more powerful than anyone realized. Ishval, the Western Border Conflict, the lives of everyone in Amestris was in the palm of his hands. Storch was certain that, until now, he had just been a pawn in this man’s plans. While he was not arrogant enough to think his new position had given him complete control over his life, he at least he knew he would not be disposed of as trivially as his “comrades” had in Ishval.

He noticed the Fürer looking at him calculatingly and tried not to let his fear show.

‘Can he sense my discomfort? No, focus! I have a job to do.’

His worries showed on his face despite his best efforts, so he mindlessly pulled out another document and read it over.

“A-anyway, moving on. This is a report from the Procurement Office asking for… an extension of one of their projects. They want another extension of their efforts to shut down… the Operation Orb Program?”

The leader of Amestris went silent. He steepled his hands with enough pressure that his knuckles turned white. The emotionless face of his leader terrified him.

“Lieutenant Colonel Storch… I’m not sure I heard that right. Are you saying that the Operation Orb Program – a program headed by a known threat to the Centralist cause – has been working under my nose for the past three months when I made it crystal clear that they’re to be shut down? Can it be understood, then, that the Mythril Alchemist has not yet been found guilty of something and kicked out of the military. Is that what this report is inferring?”

He realized that someone had done something horribly wrong and he missed it. Storch’s right hand shook, and he was forced to pull it behind his back. It was a symptom of some manner of madness he picked up from the war.

‘Damn cowardice. I should be better than this! I’m not even risking my life anymore and the Fürer has made it clear I can speak my mind. What’s wrong with me?’

He tried to keep his voice under control.

“Ah… that, uh, Fürer I can explain-”

Just as suddenly as the emotionless visage appeared, it vanished off of the Fürer’s face and was replaced by a pleasant grin.

“Haha. Don’t worry. I’m certainly not upset with you; I’m pleased in fact, really. I’m glad you brought this to me.”

Despite his superior’s reassurances, he was still frustrated at the show of weakness and his hand did not stop shaking behind his back.

“I’m f-fine sir. Please continue.”

President Bradley nodded, stood up, and looked out from the window behind him.

“This news is very bad you understand? Someone has been covering for the Mythril Alchemist and I want to know why. Why has our faction – the strongest in Amestris – been unable to get rid of a single little girl. A month I could understand – I had wanted the removal to be discrete as she’s become something of a celebrity – but three months?!”

His leader turned back to look him dead in the eye.

“You are one of the few people I can trust right now. Get to the bottom of this, do you understand?”

Storch hesitated.

“Do- what do you want me to do? I can investigate for you, but… what comes after?”

The cold, emotionless stare returned.

“You leave that to me.”

---

April 9^th, 1909, Interrogation Room #9, Central Headquarters, Central, Amestris – Lust POV

Lust had been tasked by Wrath to help his secretary investigate into “The Mythril Alchemist Problem”. This sort of investigation was her calling. She was intelligent, an expert in persuading suspects, and could handle herself in combat if negotiations broke down. As the second-oldest Homonculus, she had hundreds of years of experience which she had used to cultivate her innate charisma to superhuman levels.

No other Homonculus came close.

Wrath was competent, but too young and inexperienced. Envy’s ability to disguise themself certainly made them far better at subversion… but they were impulsive and reckless. Gluttony and Sloth… she loved her brothers, but unless they could be pointed at something and tasked to destroy it, they were better left out. Then there was Pride… The situation with Greed and the old Wrath made it clear that certain mindsets could not be tolerated. Father knew of Pride’s rebellious nature and… “leashed” him for lack of a better word. He was kept out of their work and Father drip-fed him platitudes to keep him compliant. Either Pride had become too senile with age to recognize that his work as an inconsequential human child was not at all valuable, or was smart enough to not to raise a fuss in light of the fates of their former siblings.

All that meant was that she had a heavy burden in furthering Father’s Plans and could not afford to fail… which was why the current situation was so frustrating.

In a small concrete room below Central Headquarters, Lust was seated with Wrath’s Secretary on uncomfortable metal chairs at a metal desk welded to the floor. She was in her officer disguise as “Major Solaris” and wore an Amestrian uniform that was creatively altered to be tight in all the right places. Across from her sat a squirrelly older officer who wore thick glasses and was handcuffed to his seat.

“Please, you have to believe me! I have no idea why the Brigadier General left! I swear!”

Major Davis Greene was the Adjutant of Brigadier General Edison, the head of the Procurement Division for the whole Central Region of Amestris. A General who last night had received word of the Storch’s investigation into the Mythril Alchemist, grabbed a pile of things from his office and his home, and disappeared. Despite their best efforts and the work of the entire Central Intelligence Department, the only information that could be found on the traitor was that he was last seen heading south. The General had been a high-ranking member of the Central Faction although – thankfully – not part of the inner circle. Lust needed to know what the General had learned of Father’s Plans – if anything – and who else was involved. This Adjutant was their only lead.

Secretary Storch stood up, from his chair and slammed the desk in front of him.

“You’re lying! We have multiple people in Procurement that will testify under oath against you! You’re not looking at some slap on the wrist for this. This is treason! You’re going to face a firing squad for this!”

Lust tapped him on the shoulder and the Secretary immediately fell back into his seat like a puppet with their strings cut. He looked to her with a hint of fear in his eyes.

She resisted the urge to glare at the buffoon.

‘He’s capable and loyal… but a bit too much of a coward to be relied on for anything truly important.’

Wrath’s Secretary had done a commendable job and was Lust’s favorite type of person: a self-interested coward whose entire self-worth was tied to their job. So long as she dangled his career in front of him, he would do whatever she asked like a loyal puppy. Unfortunately, just like a dumb mutt, he had a skewed understanding of what his masters wanted.

During this interrogation, he was to be an “enemy” for Edison’s Adjutant to focus on. Lust had learned from her centuries of experience that when someone was focused on someone or something aggressive, she had a far easier time manipulating them to do what she wanted. It was also what made the masses so easy to control during war. However, Secretary Storch was so fearful of Lust’s position over him that even the most subtle hints that he was doing something wrong were seen as harsh rebukes that threatened his livelihood.

Still, he was more than good enough for someone like Edison’s Adjutant. The man looked close to breaking already, she just had to give them a little encouragement. She leaned forwards, letting the man focus on her chest and the deep-cut of her tight uniform. She grabbed one of his hands in hers and stared into his fearful eyes and gave the man a pleading look.

“Please Major Greene… I know you aren’t a traitor. You’re just in the wrong place at the wrong time… b-but, the others, they can’t see that! I know you want to do the right thing. If you don’t say anything, the others will get away and you’ll be left to take the blame. Please… if you know anyone involved, we have to know!”

Whether it was the lust in his eyes for her, the fear of being killed, the man’s pathetic weakness, or vengeance against his co-conspirators for leaving him behind, he would crack. She knew his type; this man was no militant fanatic, but a vain opportunist at best. She had plenty more leverage if she needed it: she could get him on the phone with Wrath to further provoke his fear and patriotism, she could threaten or use torture, she could find the man’s family and friends. She could even bring in Envy disguised as someone he trusted, but with they were out on another mission and Lust could not afford to wait for them to return.

Of course none of that leverage would be necessary. It took less than 30 minutes for this man to break. Lust got everything she needed from the man… but she would keep him alive for now.

After all, she had plenty of uses for weak men.

---

April 10^th, 1909, Southern Warehouse District, Central, Amestris – Lust POV

Lust had learned many interesting things over the past day.

As a high-ranking member of the Central Faction, Brigadier General Edison had earned his position by working for Father’s benefit, unknowingly of course. As the highest authority in Procurement, he worked with criminal organizations in Central to launder money by using the ill-gotten funds to purchase goods for the other State Departments and pocketing the difference. This was something that was encouraged. Father’s “Black Projects” were mostly funded by these sorts of activities. After all, the projects could hardly be kept secret if they were funded with Amestrian taxes. To avoid the other Factions from catching on and ruining the scheme, everything had been left very informal and without close scrutiny.

This had proven to be a mistake, one that Lust was eager to correct.

That did not mean they had been utterly incompetent. Homonculi obviously could not trust humans, and so Edison – like all assets they used – were under regular supervision, but there was only so much supervision to go around and minor things often fell between the gaps. Unfortunately, there was no way to tell a minor slip-up from a major one. What had gone unnoticed however – and what her investigations into the traitor’s home, office and coworkers had concluded – was that he had been selling Amestrian secrets. She had not found anything damaging to their cause so far, but they could not afford even a small leak. The Entente War of 1781 proved that humanity could unite against them if given enough cause. They could not afford such a setback so close to the end. She had ruled out Edison’s family, friends and coworkers from knowledge of their plans, all that was left were his criminal contacts.

Lust was no longer wearing the Amestrian uniform as a disguise; there was no need and the clothes could get damaged and leave evidence. Instead she wore her “skin” which appeared like a form-fitting black cocktail dress with matching shoulder-length gloves and high-heel boots. It might have looked out-of-place as she walked down the rows of metal-roofed, concrete warehouses, but even if she lost a limb, it would seek out and re-attach itself to her. So long as she killed any witnesses, it would be like she was never here.

She stopped at a small door down an alley, opened it, and walked inside. Despite the plain industrial exterior of the warehouse, the interior looked like a normal waiting room. A tough-looking male receptionist with an angry scar marking half his face sat at a desk in the center of the otherwise normal office space. The receptionist looked up from his work and immediately pressed a button on his desk without a second thought. In an instant, two large men walked in from further in the building. Both of them were holding automatic weapons which were illegal for civilians to own. They could only be part of a criminal organization: a well-connected one at that.

‘It seems that Brigadier General Edison’s Adjutant was right, but why would the General bring in his obviously unreliable Adjutant into his criminality? These criminals haven’t fled either… is this some sort of trap?’

The scarred receptionist did not get up from his seat and stared at her with obvious anger in his eyes.

“I don’t think you have an appointment.”

She played her role and did her best to look worried. She raised her hands in fear.

“A-ah, don’t shoot! I think there’s a misunderstanding. I’m Brigadier General Edison’s new Adjutant. You probably realize you’ve lost contact with him by now. I-I need to speak with your boss before this whole situation goes out of control.”

The receptionist glared at her for a moment before going for his phone.

“Sir, there’s a ‘Brigadier General Edison’s Adjutant’ here to see you… yeah, no that’s the thing; she’s a dame… yeah, says she’s new…. Yeah, one moment.”

He looked up at her.

“I need a passcode to confirm who you are. We were not informed there was a change.”

Lust hid a smirk. Things were going well so far – if they were really involved, they should have fled or fought her by now – but she could not rule out some sort of trick. She would play the part of the damsel in distress for now.

“It should be ‘Purple Defiance’.”

The receptionist nodded and repeated the words into the phone. After a few more nods and responses, he hung up the phone. He turned to the two ‘heavies’ next to him.

“She’s to see the boss. Don’t let her out of your sight until she leaves and keep her on track.”

They nodded and gestured for her to follow them which she did.

Going through the door, she looked at the operation happening on the inside. Rather than the storage space it looked like on the outside, the inside of the warehouse was clearly a factory. Lines of masked workers were busy taking scoops of yellow powder from barrels and loading them into a machine. When the powder filled the mechanism to the brim, the worker turned a handle, which caused paper to close around the powder and compress the package into a tightly formed ‘brick’.

As she went down the rows, the work transitioned to money-counting. Over twenty workers were flipping through Amestrian 500, 1000, 2000 and 10000 notes with practiced ease and writing down the count on pieces of paper next to them before packing the bills into tightly-wound stacks and setting them aside into large piles. She could estimate there was at least a few million Cens.

Lust smirked.

‘That must be the Aerugan “Lira” drug… so this is an Aerugan Mafia Operation. The Intelligence Division said as much, but they also failed to catch a spy who had an office two floors above them in Central Command. Actually… the traitor was last seen heading south… he could have used a drug smuggling route to cross the border with Aerugo. The border has been on high-alert this entire time, but if a gang like this could smuggle drugs, they could smuggle a person.’

Her entourage made it to the far end of the warehouse and led her into a small room. The space was filled with five workers doing their best to organize reams of paper into filing cabinets. In the center of the room was a heavyset man wearing a thick jacket and fedora sitting at a desk covered in a disorganized mess of used cigars and crumpled paper. Based on the gold watch at his wrist, she could guess that this man was the “leader”.

He looked up from his work, gave her a lecherous smile, and made his way over to her.

“Ah, now if this isn’t a sight for sore eyes, belladonna. If Marco told me I would be visited by someone as beautiful as you, I wouldn’t have bothered with a silly passcode. Il Generale di Brigata Edison has certainly improved his taste in adjutant since we last met. Il buongusto!”

The men in the room clapped at the cheer.

Far from being uncomfortable with the attention, Lust relished in it. Her tight-fitting, low-cut dress certainly left little to the imagination. However, she had a role to play, and a young military woman surrounded by a depraved criminals could not “flaunt”. That did not mean she was out of options to entice them, however. She blushed and looked away, trying in vain to cover her exposed areas with her hands. The action had the intended effect as all the men in the room stopped and stared at her.

“I-I’m g-glad to hear that. Please call me… um, Major Solaris. General Edison… he said you were criminals but…”

The boss frowned a little and looked to see all his men staring at her with barely concealed lust.

“Hey! Pigri idioti! You think I pay you to stare at pretty woman?! Get to work! Ora! Con fretta!”

The men jumped and now did their best to ignore her. She chuckled with a hint of false nervousness and made her way to a seat opposite the boss at his desk. The man poured himself a glass of wine and waved it around, laughing with her.

“Don’t mind my workers, they sorely miss home and your figura mozzafiato is something sorely lacking in this country. Ah, but where are my manners. My name is Giovanni Sollozzo, the Don of this little piece of paradise. Please, why don’t you tell me what you’re doing here.”

Those last few works were punctuated with none of the pleasantry of the earlier conversation. It seemed her ploy to push the man more to her side had not worked as much as she hoped.

‘It seems like this “Don” won’t be won over by the tittering of a pretty face, though I guessed as much. It doesn’t usually work on these criminal types: too paranoid and surrounded by toadies to fall for the “easy” tricks.’

Lust could see it had worked a little. The man was far less nervous than he had been when she first walked in. Playing up her role, she made herself look afraid for her life. She took out an envelope sealed with Brigadier General Edison’s personal stamp and handed it to Don Sollozzo. It was one of a dozen possible letters she had made and stashed in her body – each one with slightly different wording in case she learned something new. The contents were fake of course, but the gang’s reaction would give her the proof she needed about their involvement and what they knew.

The envelope was taken by one of the armed guards who looked at her with indifference. She made a play to take the envelope back but was denied. Lust gave a betrayed look to Don Sollozzo.

“T-the General wanted me this letter to you personally. He said that if I gave it to you, you would be able to get me safety.”

The Don gave a signal to the man holding the letter. The man took out a sharp stiletto knife from his jacket and slashed the top of the envelope off with deft ease. Taking the letter out, he quickly checked the contents before handing it to his boss. Giovanni read the letter silently for a minute before jumping up in his seat.

“Edison has been made?! He escaped to the motherland and only told me in a letter?! Stupido bastardo! The State could be on our doorstep at any time!”

‘Got you.’

Lust’s lip curled slightly, but she still had one last piece of information to confirm. She feigned a look of surprise.

“What do you mean? I thought you were the General’s connection with Aerugo.”

Giovanni looked at her in confusion.

“Huh? No, he came to us. After he provided those supply routes into the country, we… wait. If he had other connections to Aerugo and fled to the motherland… than was he a spy?”

She smiled.

“I guess that means you don’t know his contact in Aerugo then.”

He frowned.

“No, it would have to be someone in the military-”

He looked at her warily.

“But then why didn’t he bring you with him? If you know this much, you’re a huge liability to him.”

She shrugged irreverently at the corpse, but decided to play along.

“The General never trusted anyone, as it turned out. Time will tell if that was a good decision or not.”

Giovanni’s looked at her with complete bewilderment.

“Huh-”

The “Don” could hardly utter a word as one of Lust’s fingers extended into a sharp claw which pierced through his brain and out the other end. By the time she retracted it back into her hand, the man collapsed onto his desk, blood spilling over the papers littered over it.

‘Ah, I’ll need to avoid being too messy or I could damage the evidence. Some of those papers could lead to a few of the smuggling routes… maybe even a contact or two in Aerugo.’

She had all the information she needed from these people and she knew from experience that criminals never gave up anything useful. Anyone stupid enough to think they would be kept alive were never told anything important, and anyone else was smart, loyal and vengeful enough to take their secrets to the grave. It was clear this “Mafia” was just a convenient associate for the Brigadier General, so the best use of her talents was to remove them before any money trail could be tied from their operations to Father’s secret projects.

She sat up from her seat just as the two “heavies” brought their automatic rifles to bear on her thin frame. Stupidly, they did not immediately fire their weapons.

“What did you do to the boss?!”

“What the hell was that?!”

“Ahh!”

The room quickly turned to panic, but with her centuries of experience, handing it was second-nature to her. She prioritized her targets. With the flick of a wrist, the two men pointing weapons at her were decapitated. She spun around and thrust her hands out. In an instant, three more heads were punctured and another man was stabbed in the arm. With a follow-up thrust, two more men and the one previously stabbed in the arm were all killed. In less than 2 seconds, everyone in the room was dead, their bodies executed in such a way that their bodies landed inwards and away from the cabinets. She did not want to risk getting their blood on the paper.

Now she needed to finish off the rest.

Exiting the small room, Lust’s new position afforded an excellent view of the factory. She made a quick headcount of the workers before her claws slashed through two nearby steel girders supporting the warehouse roof. Being cut on an angle, they crashed into the production lines below. Some of the workers were crushed by the debris which also served to break line-of-sight between herself and a group of the mafia members far off to her right. They were rushing to grab guns from their armory and she wanted to give them a “chance” against her. She could only keep in combat shape if she took “risks” after all.

““Ahh!””

“What the hell’s happening?”

“Get the guns, we’re under attack!”

Using the newfound havoc as a backdrop, Lust got to work. She rushed along the left wall, closing the distance with the workers who were trying to flee while also distancing herself from any risk of collateral damage befalling the records room. With a wide smile, she waved her hands with finely-honed precision. Every movement sent her sharp claws into the bodies of the horrified workers. Body-parts were flung with the force of her attacks, smashing into the well-stacked bricks of drugs and money, throwing the order into chaos. Blood scattered onto the floor and walls like a modernist painter’s canvas. Having long grown bored of killing humans in “ordinary” ways, Lust worked to kill them in pairs or triplets, trying to get their screams to combine in distinct ways or to organize their corpses in unique arrangements. The terror and fear on the faces of the “tough criminals” made the smile on her face grow wider. Her sadism reveled in the dichotomy.

Gunshots from her right interrupted her bloodbath and she jumped behind one of the collapsed steel girders to hide from the shots. Her Homonculus body could regenerate from wounds, but they still hurt a little. Besides, letting herself be hit by such pathetic humans was an insult. Even if pride was not her emotion, she still had a healthy amount of it.

Crouching low, she jumped into the air and climbed the metal pillar until she was grabbing hold of a cross-beam holding up the roof. From her new birds-eye vantage-point, she could see a group of six mafioso soldiers slowly moving towards her position, ignorant of her new perch. Humans never looked up. Pushing off of the roof, she leaped into the middle of their group. They did not have time to react. With a twist of her body, she spun her claws around herself like a whirlwind of blades. The six men were eviscerated. Blood and chunks of flesh rained down, drenching her in the viscera.

She took that moment to look around the warehouse and double-checked her headcount against the people she just killed. She could feel the heat of the entrails cooling against her skin. Confident that her job was done, she focused on the multitude of souls that inhabited her form. She pushed her desires into them and they rushed to surrender to her will. With a flash of red-tinted alchemy, the blood and guts clinging to her were cast away from her body, leaving her once again untainted amid the macabre devastation around her.

‘As much as the sadist in me enjoys it, bodily fluids have the tendency to feel uncomfortable very quickly. So cold and sticky… urgh.’

With the violence taken care of, she made her way back to the front of the warehouse. Opening the door she-

*BANG*

Pain erupted from her torso as she stared into the scarred face of the receptionist. Looking down, she could see him wielding a shotgun.

“Ah… forgot the receptionist…”

Lust collapsed into a heap on the floor. Her “killer” stepped away and spat at floor in front of her.

“T-take that p-psicopatico demoniaco!”

The man turned away from her and rushed out the exit.

With a chuckle, Lust pushed herself up. She pushed the pain she could have felt from the hole in her chest onto the souls that inhabited her. They screamed out in agony and did what she had “trained” them to do. They used the very energies of their existence to make the pain go away by regenerating her body. By the time she got to her feet, the hole in her body was sealed.

“Lust is hurt!”

She looked up to see the short, bald and chubby form of her brother Gluttony rush to her aid. The child had been munching on a human arm, but tossed it away in his rush to be by her side. She was touched he cared about her so much he would neglect food. She chuckled and patted her brother’s smooth head tenderly.

“Oh dear. Don’t worry Gluttony, as you can see I’m fine. Did you get the man who just ran outside?”

Gluttony gave her a wide smile.

“Yes, yes! I ate him. I did! Did he hurt you?”

She wanted to pinch his cute cheeks, but held back. Gluttony did not like it when she “mothered” him too much. He was a big boy after all.

“That was the man who did it. You’ve already avenged me. My hero.”

Gluttony gave her a wide smile before showing her an adorable look of realization. With a hop, he grabbed the arm he dropped and “slurped” it into his gullet like a noodle.

Lust laughed at the amusing scene and patted her partner-in-crime on the head. She pointed to the door behind her.

“Alright Gluttony, I’m going to head back to the car to talk to Wrath. Can you clean up the bodies? I left some of them in pieces so you might have to look around to get them all. Just make sure not to eat anything else. There are some important papers we need to keep. We’ll head back home after that, alright?”

He gave her an enthusiastic nod before quickly waddling his way though the door. She did not follow after him and instead made her way outside and towards the car. Her brother might be the most “simple” of the Homonculi, but he was not stupid. He would do what he was told, especially if it meant eating.

She arrived at the car that was parked a short walk away from the warehouse. She opened the passenger-side door and took a seat. In the drivers seat to her right, Wrath’s secretary was pale and his hands shook. Lust smirked. The man no doubt heard a little of what happened; the screams were hardly quiet. She lightly tapped his arm “accidentally” as she made for the radio in the center console of the car. She almost laughed at how much the man flinched at the contact.

‘You really fear us now, don’t you? You were a real “tough soldier” that survived Ishval… but you won’t say anything about tonight, will you? You can’t trust anyone and no one would believe you.’

Lust could see Secretary Storch was close to breaking; she had the process down to something of an “Art”. She would have Wrath prime him with a few comments: a reminder every few days about what had happened and the price of treason. He would be plagued by nightmares and paranoia… which would make for the perfect time for the Intelligence Division to begin tailing him and learning his habits. At that point, he would fall back on bad habits and – if he still had a single ounce of bravery left in his pathetic body – he might even hint to a friend or two about what was happening. Nothing important, not with so much scrutiny on him. Then – using the information gathered from Intelligence – Envy would visit him wearing the face of one of his friends… and drop the disguise. He would never be able to trust another human ever again.

Lust looked at the nervous man to her right.

‘Ah… if only I could see his face in that moment. It’s always so beautiful; a look of utter despair and resignation. Maybe I could have Envy take a photograph with a camera – one of those new ones that can capture the image in an instant. I wish those had been around two hundred years ago. There are so many memories I would’ve loved to preserve…’

She shook her head. She was getting distracted on the job. She picked up the radio – a large bulky thing – and tuned the frequency to reduce the hiss and crackles coming from the receiver. With a click, the radio created a secure connection to Wrath’s office from anywhere in Central. She tapped a sequence of beeps into the receiver. It was a passcode that would let him know it was really her on the other end. It also gave him the ability to ignore her call if he was busy with something else; he was the leader of the nation after all.

This was not one of those cases as everything had been planned in advance. In just a few seconds, there was a few beeps signaling the counter-passcode and Wrath’s voice spoke up.

“What’s the situation?”

She gave him an overview of her investigation so far.

“… and so Edison used his contacts outside the country. The criminals he worked with were just pawns and had no knowledge of his activities. The only thing tying them together was a connection to Aerugo. Intelligence can start there, but I imagine that our spies in Aerugo will spot him soon. We just need someone to doctor the evidence of where the criminal money was going and we will be in the clear.”

She heard Wrath give a sigh of relief. She could empathize with Wrath’s situation. If this had been any worse, he would have had to answer to Father. As it stood, the mess was mostly the Central Faction’s problem.

Wrath replied back in an even tone masking whatever emotions he was feeling.

“Good, that means the worst case scenario is ruled out.”

Lust nodded, but stopped. She had difficulty adapting to this new “phone” technology and sometimes forgot she was not actually speaking to someone across from her.

“In any case, I assume you wanted to have people from the Centralists pick up the gang’s documents? Gluttony is cleaning up so you can send them out any time.”

“Yes and I will oversee things personally. Anyone involved with this – no matter how tangentially – is a liability. I’ll even let the judiciary finally do their jobs for once and clean up this whole mess for us. In the meantime…”

Lust clenched the phone in her hand enough that it cracked from the pressure. She ignored the yelp from the Secretary to her right and leaned forwards. There was still one “loose end” they needed to get rid of.

“Mythril.”

Wrath paused for a moment before responding.

“It’s been a while since her project was inspected. I’ve had Major Solaris assigned to lead the team of inspectors. Find out whatever you can.”

She could read between the lines. Her “Amestrian Officer” cover would mean she was not being tasked with an assassination. She scowled and extended her claws, cutting into the car’s dashboard.

“That’s not what I want to hear, Wrath. Why are we not getting rid of her?”

Wrath sighed.

“And push her backers into hiding? No. Need I remind you that just the hint of her name allowed us to uncover a big prize? Edison could have gone under the radar for years… Of course, if you can prove she’s an imminent threat, take her out… but this whole situation is only proving that the Centralists are rotten and at risk of crumbling from within. The Armstrongs can sense our weakness – they wouldn’t have supported Mythril’s project so openly otherwise. We need to do some housecleaning before we can start taking risks again.”

Lust retracted her claws and smirked.

“I will hold back for now… but this isn’t some ‘parental’ attachment, is it? You do have a ‘child’ of your own and you are the most human of our group.”

Wrath chuckled.

“I was younger than her when I was recruited for the Wrath Program. Lust… I won’t pretend that I can give you orders, but you’re the smartest of us. Mythril lives or dies by your hand. I trust you can show some restraint, right?”

Lust hung up the phone with a frown. As much as she wanted to deny it, her brother was right.

She turned to see Gluttony enter the car so she grabbed her ‘chauffeur’ by the shoulder and pointed ahead.

“Drive.”

The car took off down the warehouse district roads in a rush. The man was sweating through his uniform and made an effort of looking dead-ahead. Every so often, however, she noticed his gaze wander towards the claw marks in the dashboard from her claws and she smirked.

Chapter Text

April 23^rd, 1909, 203^rd Battalion Barracks Testing Grounds, Central Outskirts, Amestris – Flint POV

Automail Specialist Neil Flint walked through the barracks with trepidation, glancing nervously at everyone and everything. All around him, soldiers, alchemy researchers and automail craftsman worked without the concern he was currently experiencing. It aggravated him that he felt such fear just walking around his workplace – especially after 2 months, especially after his time “toughening up” in Briggs – but he could not help it.

There were a number of causes. First was the sound of gunfire in the distance; it seemed adamant that he not have a good night’s sleep. As a night-hawk, he liked sleeping in, but the 263^rd Artillery Battalion did their testing in the morning. That alone would have just been a mere inconvenience, but it was the implication. This was not just a live-fire exercise, but was done against real, living people. Supposedly, the new “Mark 20 Operation Orb” could handle the strain… but that does not change the fact that it was tested in live-fire scenarios first .

‘Do these people have a death wish?! It’s common sense to test prototypes in a controlled environment with no chance of death! I’ve met with tons of soldiers, and every one of them made one thing very clear: they would follow a sensible and capable commander into the depths of hell, but only if it made sense. They weren’t stupid or fanatical, even if it might seem that way to outsiders. Major General Armstrong became the “Northern Wall of Briggs” because she valued the lives of her men and is a capable leader, not because she can drive her underlings to suicidal fanaticism… so who the hell is Colonel Tanya Degurechaff?’

It was just the first of many “abnormalities” surrounding the 203^rd Battalion. When he questioned the Mythril Alchemist about the testing, she said it was “Something that her subordinates wanted”, yet when he questioned the soldiers, they said it was “What the Colonel wanted”. That relationship only got more confusing as he delved deeper. The soldiers seemed to be fanatically loyal to their commander, yet there was nothing he saw about the Colonel that could have earned their loyalty. She seemed like the typical “hands off” leader he had been used to from the military before Major General Armstrong took control of Briggs. The Mythril Alchemist rarely worked with her soldiers and instead seemed to be focused solely on the development of her “pet project” making her strange automail alchemy mechanisms.

This frustrated him because of the second cause for his nervousness: he was taking part in this project under false pretenses. The Ice Queen had tasked him with learning the secrets of the Operation Orb and the successes the of the unit that fielded it. It was the General’s greatest strength as a leader in Neil’s opinion: she had a “sixth-sense” about developments in strategy and technology and ruthlessly exploited them. Whether it was there new winter-warfare tactics, winterized automail, armored vehicles, static-defense architecture, artillery improvements and coordination, or radio protocol, no skill was too insignificant to master, no technology too trivial to harness if it meant even one more soldier would survive their next engagement. It was a philosophy Neil wholeheartedly supported.

‘So – like an idiot – I just had to jump at the first opportunity I could use my skills to help the Ice Queen. Argh, I’m so in-over-my-head it isn’t funny. Oh sure, I graduated from the prestigious Aerugan Automail Technical Institute, so obviously it would be trivial for me to figure everything out and hop on back to Briggs. Earn myself a promotion and maybe even earn the admiration of our hot doctor… Stupid, of course it wouldn’t be that easy. Instead I’ve barely scratched the surface of this insane place, with its insane people and insane technology-’

“Hey! Specialist Flint! I need a hand over here.”

His reminiscence was cut short by the voice of a nearby officer calling out to him. Neil was busy and should not have responded… but he also wanted could not risk making an enemy out of any of the officers. His mission would be in danger if one of them decided he should leave.

Turning to walk towards the source of the voice, he could see that a few technicians were working with an officer wearing one of the new “Mark 20 Armor”. Simply put, the thing was a network of metal joints and bars attached to the arms and legs which all connected to the new Mark 20 Orb in the center. The Colonel called the thing an “Exoskeleton”, but that reminded everyone of creepy insects, so people just called it “Armor” which the solders liked because of the connection to knights of old.

He recognized that the officer was actually one of the leading members of the 203^rd: Captain Rhiner Neumann. He did not interact with the man much, but his boisterous and friendly personality made him a favorite among the non-military people in the barracks.

“Sure, I can help… what do you need, sir.”

The tall soldier rolled his eyes at him.

“No need to call me sir, I know you guys aren’t part of the military. Anyway, there’s a problem with the armor that I need your help with. The technicians don’t know what’s wrong. Anyway, here, let me show you.”

Captain Neumann stood up and activated his Orb. A faint blue glow illuminated small parts of it and he could see faint traces of it flow through cables connected to mechanisms attached to the soldier’s arms and legs. Once the “exoskeleton” was primed with alchemy, the Captain bent his arms, but halfway through the bend, the armor “locked up” stopping him from completing the motion. He did the same thing with his other arm and legs. Each time, he would get about 80% of the way towards completing the full movement before being suddenly stopped by the iron suit. After he completed the motions, he deactivated the Orb, allowing him to move freely again.

“As you can see, the armor’s locking up. The technicians said it was something wrong with the Orb.”

Neil turned to the other people here and raised an eyebrow. That sounded like they were trying to push their job onto him.

They could see what he was implying and were quick to respond.

“We investigated everything ourselves and it’s the only outcome we can think of. It seemed really unlikely that all the joints would have the same failure at the same time without the Orb being the issue, but we checked anyway. Everything’s working normally. The armor was working perfectly fine this morning, but another mechanic came in, made some changes, and left. Ever since, the thing hasn’t been working properly.”

Before Neil could respond, the Captain laughed and shook his head.

“Now, now, before you go blaming the mechanic, I want to apologize first. Colonel Degurechaff has been having me go through “performance exercises” double-checking the limits of the Orb this morning and I think I pushed things a bit too hard. If the mechanic did something wrong, it was only because he was fixing problems that I started.”

Neil paled at that. He had seen this Mark 20 suit enable soldiers to hold trucks over their head and punch through stone like it was made of sand. The Orb could do that for hours. He could scarcely imagine what he must have been doing to “push it too hard”.

“Ah, I see… let me see what I can do.”

Like most of the things he experienced with the 203 ^rd , he ignored the insanity and focused on his work. Kneeling in front of the officer, he unscrewed the harness holding the Orb in place and took it out of the armor to get a closer look. The thing was a work of a genius or a madman and was not so much a break from previous work in the field, as it was an outright refutation of the very concept of “Automail”. A multitude of spider-like automail limbs inside the Orb was not controlled by a connection of nerves and tendons, but remotely by communication with dozens of small alchemic “antennas” which translated simple alchemy into signals for the automail “nerves” to control.

He did not understand quite how that worked, but he did not need to: so long as he understood the expected function and form, he could reverse-engineer the problem to the source of the issue and fix it. In this case, the Orb used the cables connected to the joints in the arms and legs as “inputs” letting it know where the limbs were at all times. It then compared this value with the Operator’s innate proprioception. In other words, it always kept an Operators limbs where they wanted to be. For example, if an arm was being pushed down by a heavy rock it was holding, the Orb would recognize the external force and cancel it out, allowing the Operator to hold the rock like it was nothing. If the “locking limb problem” here had anything to do with the Orb, it was due to receiving wrong inputs and triggering its internal “safety”. This safety function occurred when the Orb was being told to move a limb further than that limb should be able to go and stopped the limb in place. Without this, a faulty Orb might break an Operator’s bones.

Neil Flint did not waste any time in correcting this problem before it killed someone.

‘How could that mechanic sign off on something so horrifically wrong?! Doesn’t anyone realize just how dangerous these things are? Of course, a miraculous state-of-the-art system like this only works if every piece of the puzzle fits together perfectly… okay, there isn’t any obvious defects in the parts… nothing is stuck or out of place… maybe an issue with the gears? Will need to consult the manual, damn.’

He was still hoping it would be an “easy fix” where he could swap out a bad part with a good one. He unclasped a latch on one of the pouches of his toolbelt and took out an oil-stained booklet. Flipping through the pages, he located the table of values he was looking for. Taking out a micrometer, he measured the diameter of gears in the Orb, converted them into other values using a slide-rule, then compared those values to the ones on the table to verify if they made any sense. After a few minutes of this, he found the issue.

That “Eureka Moment” must have shown up on his face because the Captain spoke up.

“I see you figured something out something.”

Neil took out a piece of paper and began to write things down about the problem and what parts needed to be replaced so that one of the technicians could fix the problem. Not wanting to be rude to the Captain, however, he responded to his question while he worked.

“The Orb’s calibration was done for a someone smaller than you. It’s possible that this Orb was used by someone like Captain Serebryakova and was exchanged for your broken one with no adjustments. With the tolerances the Mythril Alchemist has put in, it probably wouldn’t have done any damage, but if that mechanic had done anything else, he could have killed you.”

Captain Neumann seemed to understand the gravity of what he was saying and nodded solemnly.

“I understand. Please make a complaint about the problem and I’ll make sure the Colonel-”

The man cut himself off and suddenly stood up and gave a salute. Neil turned and almost found himself saluting as well. Despite not being in the military, the sight of the Mythril Alchemist, her Adjutant Captain Serebryakova and another alluring female officer walking side-by-side had him surrounded on all sides by the best talent Amestris had to offer.

The Mythril Alchemist looked comically small next Captain Neumann and had to look almost straight up to make eyes with him, yet she seemed completely unfazed by the disparity.

“So Captain Neumann. Everything ready?”

The Captain nodded.

“Just finishing up. There’s been a problem with the Orb but Specialist Flint here will be giving everything a once-over before I head out.”

He gestured to Neil who coughed in his hand. He fumbled putting his tools in his belt.

“I’ll have everything ready, uh, s-soon, sir.”

She nodded and gestured to the beautiful dark-haired woman to her left.

“This is Major Solaris. She’s here on behalf of the Fürer to oversee my progress before I undertake my State Re-Certification Exam in a few days.”

The Major’s lips curved into a smile. Despite the cute Captain next to her, he was entranced by the woman in ways he could not put a finger on. He normally liked “tom-boys” like the doctor back in Briggs, but he could not deny that the woman before him had an appeal of her own.

“You’ve all proven to be incredible so far and I’m very impressed. Please, just pretend I’m not even here and I’m sure things will turn out just fine.”

Solaris’ tone completed the package. Far from pretending she was not there, if it was not for the Adjutant Serebryakova looking cute next to her, he would struggle from even pulling his eyes off the Major.

‘Gah, what do they feed the women in Central?!’

Wiping his hands on his uniform, he thought of an excuse and made a quick exit.

“I’ll be, uh, I’ve got to go grab some things to make repairs on, uh, Captain Neumann’s Orb…”

Either ignoring his yammering, or having sympathy, the Colonel nodded.

“Of course, but please hurry. The demonstration will begin soon.”

Neil nodded and rushed off before he did something foolish.

‘I need to figure all this out and rush back to Briggs soon! All of this is driving me crazy!’

---

April 23^rd, 1909, 203^rd Battalion Barracks Testing Grounds, Central Outskirts, Amestris – Lust POV

Lust watched Specialist Neil Flint leave with a hint of amusement. Since she did not know who might be acting as an intermediary for Mythril’s possible backers, she had to keep a close eye on everyone and he was the first person she found who showed signs of deceit. How irritating, then, to find out he was merely communicating with that rogue Armstrong General that the Centralists had sent to Briggs. That irritation turned to humor when she found out his goal was not trying to join forces with Mythril, but merely to take any innovations they could get their hands on.

The “Ice Queen” thought she was clever for building a power-base outside of Central Authority, but it only served to alienate her from any potential allies. The Centralists under Wrath’s control used her recluse behavior as a means of controlling the narrative. The Academics in the West were told she was a dangerous radical working on mad research projects without State oversight and that hundreds had died from her experiments into new weapons. To the various traitors and terrorists in the East, the Centralists spread that the Briggs men were all dogs of the military who raided Drachma and ruthlessly butchered anyone they found. From there, the General’s lack of tact and trust in others only reinforced their gossip. Ironically, despite the power and technology the woman had accumulated, she was one of the least threatening people to their cause.

She turned to Major General Armstrong’s opposite in the form of a small child next to her. The Mythril Alchemist was comparatively weak, but an enigma of the worst kind: one which only grew the deeper she investigated. She was clever enough to become a State Alchemist with a method that bypassed Wrath’s approval, but was foolish enough to get caught in the act. She had the charisma to recruit and lead a unit of loyal soldiers, but flaunted that loyalty without using it for anything. She could convince the Armstrong family to defend her, but only did so when the wars were over and she was just being accosted by minor administrative pressure.

‘It’s like she is trying to paint a target on her back. All of her actions are irrelevant on their face. The Operation Orb Project, her actions in the war, none of them matter in the grand scheme of things… but the way she does things suggests some higher plan. Something that would require a State Alchemist certification without our approval, using an elite small army at her disposal and the backing of their political opponents. It all sounds so threatening…’

This was only made worse by the fact that every word the young State Alchemist seemed to be sarcastic, even if the Colonel’s tone seemed serious.

“Major Solaris, I hope my rather lackluster tour of the barracks has at least been educational. Certainly nothing like the craziness that has been going on in Central recently. I had heard just the other day that Brigadier General Edison of the Procurement Office was a spy and had fled the country! While it’s awful that such a thing could happen in a great country like ours, I had heard that President Bradley had led the investigation that discovered his treason, so I can’t thank his wise leadership enough.”

The Colonel’s Adjutant also added to the conversation.

“I knew there was something wrong with the Procurement Office. They were charging us too much for things we needed for the Project. We could’ve spoken up!”

The Colonel shook her head and chided her subordinate.

“Now, I wouldn’t say that. We should consider ourselves lucky we didn’t get involved. It is one thing for the leader of our nation to discover a plot and a different thing entirely if we had tried to do anything. While it might be only one rank, the Brigadier General still outranked me and had a number of ways he could have caused more trouble for us before we had any chance to fully uncover his scheme. He might have even tried to pin it on us! We should all just be fortunate that this whole thing is behind us and that any Procurement we have in the future will be hassle-free.”

Lust could not help but think of the statements as sarcastic.

‘An insult and a threat. Comparing Wrath’s oversight of her project with his failure to catch the spy, then warning us that any more actions against her would be too obvious. Was this whole spy thing her plan? Was Brigadier General Edison ever really a spy, or did Tanya set him up? Damn it! I can’t keep jumping to ridiculous conclusions. No one can be such a mastermind. I could kill her right now, so she can’t be all that smart. The “Major Solaris” disguise would be difficult to repair, but it would not be a huge setback. Either she’s stupid enough to think we need the identities of her backers that urgently, or everything until now has all been a big coincidence.’

It was frustrating that the Colonel was right, even if just barely: finding the truth about her situation was more important for now. She had agreed with Wrath that the Colonel could slip up and reveal more information and that killing her would only risk them being ambushed by her backers in the future. They were bound to uncover something with how much scrutiny the Mythril Alchemist was under, but that did not mean she could not look for some excuse to kill her and finally move on from this farce.

It did not change the fact that her normally calm demeanor was cracking and that her someone looking at her gloved fingers would notice they had grown an inch over the past minute.

“Well, I can safely say that I’ve learned all that I will be able to for now, Colonel Degurechaff. I’ll be watching your presentation from the stands and leaving for Central Headquarters.”

The child appeared ignorant of Lust’s rage boiling just beneath the surface. The Alchemist turned to her and smiled.

“Thank you again for coming, Major Solaris. Feel free to help yourself to the catering! This demonstration is supposed entertaining enough to appeal to potential investors, so I hope you will enjoy the show.”

As Lust walked away, the Colonel and her Adjutant turned away from her and began discussing things with the Captain wearing the strange metal suit.

---

April 23^rd, 1909, 203^rd Battalion Barracks Mustering Yard, Central Outskirts, Amestris – Lust POV

Lust sat down in one of the bleachers surrounding a large open pit. At the far end was a podium where the Mythril Alchemist was struggling with lowering her microphone. The child looked embarrassed as the audience politely chuckled. Lust tried to take some manner of sadistic joy in watching the girl fail at something for once, but she could not be sure it was not some ploy to garner sympathy.

Finally ready, the State Alchemist spoke out to them through the microphone in a loud and clear voice.

“Good Afternoon, ladies and gentleman. My name is Colonel Tanya Degurechaff and I want to first thank you all for coming. While I’m sure most of you have come to this with some idea of what the Operation Orb is, there are surely a few of you that have only had second- or third-hand accounts, so let me provide an overview and give a few demonstrations of the state of this incredible new technology…”

Over the next few minutes, the pit featured a demonstration of the features of the “Mark 1” Operation Orb. She noted – with faint amusement – the irony of the new technology. There was a reason why Father had approved Wrath’s Project and its new direction of warfare. The trend over the past few hundred years had wars being fought at greater distances with more powerful weapons. Humans had always been cowards and hypocrites. They would kill one another, but they preferred that it happened out-of-sight and without any risk to themselves. However, if it were not for the Promised Day coming soon, she might be concerned new weapons could pose a threat some day. As good as Homonculus regeneration is, humans now had the destructive potential to overcome it… assuming they were accurate enough to hit, of course. Once Lust had seen Orbs in action in Ishval, however, her worries were gone.

‘Ignoring that our own pawns will soon be using these new toys, this “Operation Orb” makes fighting much easier. Guns and cannons are being rendered obsolete, but there’s still nothing to stop a blade. My Ultimate Spear would make short work of them with even less risk to myself. How delightful.’

Perhaps Tanya should feel grateful she could not read minds. Would she be demoralized that her life’s work only served to make her pitiful species’ end more certain?

Mythril continued speaking as the Mark 1 demonstrations ended.

“With these demonstrations, it should be clear why this project was officially sanctioned by our leader Fürer King Bradley himself, and how someone as young as myself could obtain the rank of State Alchemist.”

Lust smirked at her ignorance.

Grabbing the microphone, the State Alchemist walked down from the podium and into the central open area. At the same time, a group of soldiers dragged a large, wheeled artillery piece into the field alongside another person wearing one of those “Orb Armor” things she had seen earlier. Underneath the bulky metal mechanisms, the man wore the uniform of an Amestrian officer.

“Of course, the Mark 1 is nothing new. I only helped design it with my mentor the Silver Alchemist who is already working with the State on its mass-production. However, I made this demonstration to showcase my new innovations on the design, not take credit for other peoples’ work. So before I delve any deeper into a breakdown of potential long-term goals, expenses, and expected ROI over the next few years based on various seed-capital initiatives, let me provide to you a hint of what’s to come. I present the ‘Mark 10 Empowered Orb Armor’!”

At her signal, the man in the armor took the large piece of artillery in both hands and lifted it over its head. After a few seconds, it dropped it back down. There was no reaction from the audience and Lust had to agree. What was Mythril expecting with this? The Mark 1 had done something similar already.

Based on the lack of reaction from the Colonel, it seemed she had expected that.

“As you can see, this does not seem all that extraordinary, but I want you to imagine what it would take to do something like this using current technology. A steam-powered lifter is over ten times the size of this “armor” and a pulley system might eventually get the job done, but that requires expertise and hours of setup. Of course, a few of you that have researched the Mark 1 are probably shaking your head at the comparison: ‘This thing will cost more than my factory or my company to operate, it’s completely impractical’ you might be wondering. That was the Mark 1 and this is the Mark 10. This Orb is made of steel instead of silver and interchangeable parts instead of manually crafted ones. It is less than one-tenth the price of the Mark 1 and will become even cheaper once mass-production starts. The only caveat is that it can only do one Operation. The Mark 10 performs ‘Empower’ while the Mark 11 will perform ‘Deflect’ and so on. As the Captain here will also explain, it’s much easier to learn and use.”

The man in the armor took the microphone with surprising precision. Lust had assumed it would be difficult to hold small things in the bulky metal arms, but it did not seem to be the case.

“I’m Captain Ugar of the Western Headquarters Railroad Department and I can attest to Colonel Degurechaff’s statement. I’ve no experience with Alchemy – didn’t so much as touch a Transmutation Circle in my life – but in less than a month I can already use this. My department and the Engineering Corps plan on buying as many of these as we can get our hands on to aid in infrastructure development on our Western border. This can dig, hammer, lift; really anything a person can do, but better. One worker in this armor can do the work of 10 men for twice as long per day. We’ve even started work on outfitting this with ‘real’ armor. With steel plating and integrated weapons, a Mark 10 can turn the average soldier into a mobile bunker.”

Lust frowned at this.

‘It seems the Academics in the West have been working with Mythril behind the scenes… Wrath surely had to know about this, so why was I not informed? If Tanya can build up enough of these… well I suppose it isn’t an immediate threat. Is her plan to make enough money to be untouchable? What a laugh. It would be a simple matter to kill her and have Envy replace her little “empire”. There has to be something more to this than just profit and slightly tougher soldiers…’

Taking back the microphone, she had everyone give a round of applause as the artillery and man were replaced with another. The new man wore a nearly identical metal “armor” but the details were different. Most notably, the man was not wearing a uniform underneath the metal supports, but a thick, padded, leather outfit. The man’s face was covered with a glass visor and a hose-like object linking the mask to a canister on the man’s side.

“I saved the best for last. While the potential of this technology is self-evident, it is also just that: something that hasn’t happened. I’m sure a number of you in the audience have been wondering about the limits of this technology. Perhaps you might imagine it like the invention of something like a tractor: something that will become cheaper over time like the Mark 10, or maybe more powerful some day, but never becoming something more than what it was built for. This is not like any device made before: this is a new way of alchemy and so its limits are only what we can dream of! The possibilities are endless and even the sky is not the limit. For the first time in human history, I present to you heavier-than-air flight!”

Lust thought something went wrong at first: the man’s limbs all ignited in a purplish-blue flame and the area exploded. However, the explosion was small and instead of tossing the man away, it propelled them upwards and into the sky. The noise was almost deafening like nothing she had ever heard before and the air was swept up in wakes and plumes of dust that had many people in the audience coughing or covering their ears. Lust shot up on her feet and quickly found the man hovering in the air. If not for the thick flames and smoke she would have struggled to see the small speck. Like Sloth, Lust might have had superhuman strength and reflexes, but her senses struggled to keep up with the flying object.

‘Am I seeing this right?! Wrath was clearly too optimistic if he’s allowing this. The Orb has made some things easier for us, but like insects, killing them will be difficult if they start flying… perhaps I can learn how to use one of these Orbs? No, if it relies on alchemy that would be impossible.’

There was a reason that – despite the long lives the Homunculi lived – none of them could perform alchemy like Father. Alchemy required the use of a Gate to convert power from the Source though a ritual and will into Action. Homunculi and Father were “born” into the world without a Gate, and so could not use Alchemy. For Father, this changed when he used Xerxes as a catalyst for his ascension. For Lust and her siblings, however, they had not undergone such a transformation. That did not mean Homonculi could not use alchemy, but the “Alchemy” she used to regenerate or use her Ultimate Spear, for example, was nothing like that used by humans. She subjugated the thousands of souls inside her to her will and pushed them all to use their Gates in a crude semblance of unity. This resulted in a power unique to every Homunculi, but only one power.

She had tried to do other things with the souls inside her – change her appearance like Envy or use Transmutation Circles – but it was no use. The souls would get confused about what they were supposed to do and the source coming through the Gates would interfere and mix with one another. It was the same reason why alchemists rarely ever tried doing Alchemy with more than one person: without perfect synchronicity, the result would be completely random with unintended consequences. Her own attempts usually resulted in mutating her body into grotesque shapes or causing a limb or two to explode in a mess of viscera that felt very uncomfortable.