Hello! It's me, rachLA, finally off an unofficial hiatus! I posted something last in what...oh...um...october...(Hides)
Anyway, this is a story that I started months ago, and have been having ideas for since I heard Matchbox 20's new album, North. This is inspired by their song "English Town," and honestly, I'm kind of trying to theme each chapter by a song, but it won't always fit too much. Don't worry, I'm not going to make this a TRUE song fic.
But, without further ado, it is my pleasure to bring to you...STRENGTH OF THE NORTH
Strength of the North
Prologue
My story both starts and ends on a train, but I'm getting ahead of myself. I've never done something like this before and for those of you who might actually be reading, I want to warn you. I'm required to write an exact log of my journey: my journey with the Fullmetal Alchemist. I won't be editing anything out. The gruesome parts, the high points, the times when we both thought that it was the end; I will tell all. Dear God, I hope Winry isn't reading this. She would be sad again, but maybe it's best she knows.
This is the last journey of the Fullmetal Alchemist, Edward Elric.
Chapter 1: Parade
I said my story started on a train, and I wasn't lying. It was a small military train only built to accommodate roughly fifty people. It seemed bigger than that at the time as I was the only one on it. The war with Creta had dispatched most of Amestris's soldiers. Brigadier General Armstrong had managed to keep the soldiers under her command from being sent off to the battle because of rising tensions with Drachma. There had been whispers in the halls of Briggs for weeks about the Drachmans trying to form a special weapon, but I doubted they were true.
I had been stationed at the northern most point of Amestris for six years; since the day I turned eighteen, but never once had I been summoned to Central. The envelope had arrived two weeks prior to my departure of the north, but I was still unprepared for what I was about to face.
Central was an unfamiliar world to my naïve eyes. Having grown up in a small town near the northern border and Briggs being the farthest from home I had ever been, it was kind of terrifying to think of what I might face in this new city.
This of course brings me to the start of my story.
I lay spread out over several seats, eyes closed, hoping to fall asleep, but mostly simply worrying about my summons. Had I done something wrong? Were they going to imprison me? Execute me? As ridiculous as these fears sound in hind sight, they were very valid concerns. In the days before our current Fuhrer, Roy Mustang, had taken control of Amestris, it wasn't uncommon to be punished for simply following orders.
It was a dark time in our country's history. I was lucky to be born toward end of Fuhrer Grummans reign. Fuhrer Mustang has turned our country around. We all had rights now and he is working to persuade his associates toward a democracy. He said that he made a promise that he had to keep. It's taken both he and Grumman thirty years to even get this far with the damage that Fuhrer Bradley inflicted on Amestris. At sixty-three, I couldn't help but wonder if Mustang would live to see his goal of a democracy.
I had to remind myself of all of this simply to draw in a few shallow breaths. I could not panic. That was not what a soldier did and certainly not a sergeant.
In.
Maybe they're just calling on me for a special mission?
Out.
Maybe they're going to promote me?
In.
Just trust your general.
Out.
She wouldn't let harm come to you that wasn't inflicted by her.
I shuddered at the thought but found myself calmed slightly. It was true. My commanding officer wouldn't send me to Central to be slaughtered. She was vicious, but she wasn't cruel.
The train jolted sharply to the left, sending me sprawling onto the floor.
"Ow…" I muttered, hoisting myself up. Peeking out the window rewarded me the sight of the rolling plains of Amestris that are common near Central. It was too green for my tastes, but pretty nonetheless.
The train turned again around a bend in the tracks, and there it was.
The beginnings of Central City came into my view and the rest followed in its wake. It was as if I had blinked and the fields had been replaced with the tall buildings and houses of the capital city of Amestris. I knew we were getting closer to our destination as the train started to slow and the tracks curved gently towards the heart of the city. The nervous feeling I had forced down formed a steady weight in the pit of my stomach.
In.
Out.
It would be okay. I knew it. I trusted it. But, things don't always go as we expect them too.
xxxxxXxxxx
I walked through the halls of Central Command with an escort who introduced herself as Sherry. It seemed odd to me that a woman who was still in her mid-forties at most would be here and not in battle. She had neatly trimmed blond hair and eyes of a deep blue-gray color. She had the beginnings of frown lines around her mouth, and she walked with a slight limp.
That made sense. She had been injured in battle—from the looks of it—years ago. That's why she was a guard, not in the field. It was a shame: She had the look of a fighter.
It was then that a noticed which door she was leading me towards. My eyes widened in shock as I fought my bodies instinct to freeze. As a soldier could not freeze in battle, I could not freeze when faced with the door to what could only be the Fuhrer's office.
She knocked once and opened the door for me, jerking her chin for me to step inside. I followed her command, drawing a breath deep into my lungs as if to remind myself that if an organism can draw the oxygen needed to survive through a simple muscle contortion, I could face a man. An ordinary man who just happened to hold a position of power.
I walked further into the room, striding as confidently as I could. The fuhrer's office was large, but it did not hold any kind of reminder that this was the office of our leader except for the Amestrian flags behind the enormous desk. I did not focus much on the details of his office, for it was the man behind the desk that held my eyes.
Fuhrer King Roy Mustang was a recognizable face and seemed to me to be a dream. His black eyes shown with the intelligence and wisdom I had always seen in him. But he was different that I noticed in the pictures. He looked tired, and…old. I hadn't seen many pictures of him as he was now and the deep creases in his face were not familiar to me, though it did make sense. He was nearly seventy years old now and the job of Fuhrer was a taxing one.
It was only then that I noticed his mouth was moving.
"…suppose you're wondering why I've called you here," he paused looking at me expectantly.
"Uh, y-yes, sir," I stuttered, "Fuhrer Mustang."
"I miss when that title was just colonel," he sighed, rubbing his temple, "People weren't so worried about how they addressed me in those days."
"Sorry, sir," I apologized, coming to an abrupt stop in front of his desk.
He waved my words away with a broad motion of his right hand. "Don't apologize, I'm use to it. Back to the topic at hand," he paused, his expression becoming grim. "Before I begin, I have to trust that what I am about to say will not be taken lightly. This is extremely dangerous, and it's top secret. Only me and a few of my brigadier generals know about it."
"Yes, sir, I understand," I said, fidgeting with anticipation. "I'm ready for whatever it is that I am needed for."
He looked at me for a moment then said with pause, "Yes. Yes, I suppose you are."
As I studied his face, I found something in his eyes that I wasn't sure how I felt about. It could be mistaken for trust, or even admiration, but I have always been able to read people's intentions in their eyes. The emotion I saw there sent an involuntary shiver through me. Pity.
xxxxXxxxx
The telephone rang just then. Fuhrer Mustang sighed and reached across his desk to answer.
"Hello?"
It sounded as if the person on the other end of the call was angry. I hid a smirk as Mustang held the device away from his face, grimacing. When the person seemed to have stopped yelling, he said, "Yes, nice to hear from you, Fullmetal."
The old fuhrer smirked and shook his head, "Yes, I know I shouldn't call you that. Old habits die hard, I guess." He paused, listening to the response, "You're just as hot-headed as ever. I guess some things never change." He sighed. "Yes, I'll send someone to pick you up. Yes, of course."
Mustang hung up the phone, still smirking, and buzzed his secretary, telling her to find someone to drive Edward. I wondered who 'Edward' was.
"Sir?" I asked, tilting my head slightly to the left. He seemed as though his thoughts were hundreds of miles away and perhaps years in the past.
"Hmm?" His flint black eyes met my brown ones and focused, "You'll have to excuse me. Talking to him brings back so many memories, not all of them good," he muttered.
"Him, Fuhrer?" I inquired. My personality has always been a curious one. People have told me it's not a desirable trait, but I don't see any harm in the desire for knowledge.
"The man I'm talking about is actually going to be your partner on this mission. His name is Edward Elric, but he's more widely regarded as the Fullmetal Alchemist or the alchemist of the people, despite the fact that he is no longer a state alchemist." His calculating eyes gauged my reaction, and I tried to school my face into the expression of calm I had been raised to present to the world, but I couldn't. My mind was still frozen on the words 'Fullmetal Alchemist'
"I'm assuming you've heard of him?"
"U-uh, I-I, um…"I tried to form coherent speech, but my thoughts were not having it. Of course, I had heard of him. I might have been stationed at Brigg's, but he was a legend. Everyone spoke of him with awe; the very name was spoken with reverence. At least in the military. He was the man who saved Amestris from the sinister plot of the committee of generals.
"Y-yes, Fuhrer," I finally managed. I paused and met his eyes. "Forgive me for assuming, but Fuhrer Mustang, if you're bringing Edward Elric into this after thirty years without him even sending you a post card, it must be a pretty important assignment we are being given."
"Perceptive," he said, nodding, pushing his gray streaked hair out of his eyes, "Yes, Brigadier General Olivier Armstrong said you were clever. Perhaps that's why she recommended you. It takes courage to be around her, much less be liked by her enough to send you on a mission of utmost importance." He pulled a file out of a drawer I could not see. "Though…you're record is impressive."
I stood straighter with the praise, "Thank you, sir." I was very aware that the leader of Amestris had just given me a compliment. Me! I kept my expression carefully cool.
Don't show him that his comment had any effect on you. Remember, you'll have his job one day and if you're to rise in the ranks, you need to learn not to show people with great political influence and power what you feel.
My thoughts echoed what my father had once told me.
The fuhrer read my record in silence for a moment, then looked at me and remarked, "It says here that you served on the front lines in the war with Creta from the time you left basic training at the Northern Command Center when you were eighteen?"
I nodded absently, then jerked my head to look at him, "Yes, sir!" I amended.
"You served there for two years and then and injury forced your transfer to Northern Command and by the end of the month you were in Briggs and promoted to Corporal. From there, you were selected as an undercover agent on the Northern border and were promoted another rank to Sergeant and have been for two years." He looked at me a moment, studying me, "All that sound accurate?"
"Yes sir, that's right."
He raised his eyebrows at me, "Rising through the ranks?"
"It's what my father wanted me to do," I said, but that wasn't completely true. It's what he wanted his son to do.
Mustang narrowed his eyes at me as if he wanted to add something, but before he could the door flew open with a bang.
A blond man paused in the doorway, taking in the situation with his eyes, then strode confidently into the large office. He wasn't terribly tall, though he was taller than me, but he carried himself with an air of self assurance which more than made up for it. His eyes were what most intrigued me. They were a bright gold, vibrant to match his hair, and they shown with a fierce knowledge that led me to believe that he had gone through hell and come out on top.
It could only be one man. Edward Elric.
Okay, so there's the first chapter. I really hope you enjoyed it. I will try to update it regularly, but I think I have shown the people who follow my stories exactly how sporadic my updates are. I will try to have one up once a month. If not, you can chop off my hands and feed them to your cat...or something...I dunno...
Please review, I would appreciate it! (Also if you want any writing/story advice, don't be afraid to PM me)