A/N: Hello, and welcome. I've decided to rewrite this fic, as the first few chapters were just awful in my opinion, and I eventually hit a wall because it started drifting away from where I originally wanted it to go. So, without further ado, welcome to the rewrite of Bleedingheart Drachman.
Prologue
The town of Virnikov was small yet rich. Not in wealth, no, for it could barely be called a town because of its size. Virnikov was rich in history, and rich in the quality of its people. The miniscule location in northern Amestris was an excellent example of the mantra 'survival of the fittest,' for the brutal environment paved the way for toughened citizens. They were people who banded together more times than not, and they were people who tolerated no weakness. The residents of Virnikov had to be, however, for as much as they loved their town, it was trapped in a horrendous state.
Just miles beyond the outskirts of the town lay the border to the country Drachma. The north of Amestris was continually in combat with them, and Virnikov was no exception. The citizens hated the soldiers that came to ravage them, and they all knew Amestris had no tolerance for these attacks.
So it was when a red-haired man answered the door to find four Amestrian soldiers, three clad in white and one in blue. Before he could even question them, the soldiers stormed into the house, two of the white-clad ones grabbing him by the arms. The third soldier went to the back of the room to stop a blonde-haired woman who had walked in and immediately begun shouting, demanding to know what was going on. Her voice was angry, forceful, enough to intimidate a lesser man as she demanded the intruders to leave her house this moment, damn it.
The soldier in blue approached the man, eyes flashing as he withdrew a sheet of paper from his pocket along with a pair of handcuffs, which he tossed to one of the other soldiers. As he read off the charges on the paper, the woman only grew more and more angry, while the redhead listened in stoic silence. In the end, cuffs were clasped, the woman argued and screamed, and the man was led out by the soldiers. Once they were gone, the woman dissolved into angry tears, slamming a fist against the wall.
Among it all stood a fourteen-year-old, observing with a hardened expression.