Disclaimer: I do not own Full Metal Alchemist: Brotherhood or any related properties. Full Metal Alchemist: A Novel is strictly my adaption of Hiromu Arakawa's famed manga into novel form.
Full Metal Alchemist – A Novel
Prologue
A painless lesson is meaningless
"Alphonse!" Yelled the panic stricken boy. Blood stained his young face and his blonde hair.
Panting as he looked around the darkened room, he cried once again, "Al, where are you!" But his call went unanswered.
Grief engulfed his widened eyes as he realized the severity of that which he had wrought upon himself and his younger brother. He gritted his teeth. Tears flowed from his distressed eyes, down his cheek and onto the ground beneath, barely within the borders of an ominous hand drawn circle housing mysterious symbols. The boy could no longer resist the pain that cursed through his body. He had tried to deter it long enough to find his brother, but now it excruciatingly consumed his very being. Clenching his fists as tightly as his little strength would allow, he desperately clamped down on his own forearm with his teeth and endured the crippling anguish. His screams were muffled by his own mouth. It took every bit of power he could muster to turn himself over and diagnose the cause. He quickly discovered to his dismay that his left leg, from the knee down had been taken away.
"Damn", he said in a quiet, broken raspy voice.
"This wasn't supposed to happen", he said, tears still streaming from his exhausted eyes.
He turned over once again, faced down, the weight of his body bearing down on the one knee he had left. The boy was ladened with guilt for his little brother, because he knew what had happened to Alphonse, and to his own leg.
He raised his fist and then brought it crashing down with the little remaining strength he had.
"Dammit!" he bellowed, but no one heard his cry.
Chapter 1
The Elric Brothers
By wielding Alchemic power, a person can create anything he so desires. But there is a price. To create something, something of equal value must be traded.
The town of Reole - 1914
"Praise God!" Proclaimed the aged yet brisk voice of Father Cornello.
"Deliver thyself to our Lord Leto. Believe in him. Pray to him and thy sins shall surely be washed away with the rest of humanity's sinful!"
"Only the The Sun God can illuminate thy path and free thee from thy wickedness"
"Hear my call. Lord Leto himself has appointed me as his messenger, and blessed me with the power of miracles, so that you shall no longer have to be led astray by the evils that too often corrupt the human soul." Father Cornello's reassuring voice could be heard booming from a mid-sized, whiskey bottle shaped radio that was set atop a small Noodle Shop counter.
"As long as you keep the lord by your side, all your troubles shall subside. In time, thy prayers shall manifest, and the dead shall once again walk the Earth. Lord Leto will revive your brothers, your sisters, your mothers, fathers, sons and daughters, your lovers and your friends who have passed on. But thy faith must be strong. Never question the Lord, for that is heresy. Our benevolent Lord hath said the heretic shall suffer a most fearful punishment; banishment from His kingdom unto a life of ever lasting torment. That is all my children. Be free and love thyself and one another, but above all, love God." And so ended the beloved Founder's heavenly announcement, which he gave daily to Reole's faithful.
Father Cornello's charismatic baritone inspired the small town people of rural Reole. The townsfolk affectionately addressed him as The Founder, for being the one who created Letoism, the religion whose God had blessed man with the power to perform miracles.
"So this Cornello guy can perform miracles huh? Is that right?" asked a young patron at the shop as he twisted his noodle soup, glaring down at the half eaten plate. His wild blonde hair hanged freely, aside from a ponytail he habitually maintained. He was adorned in dark leather pants, matching boots, white gloves and a long-sleeved red cloak. It's back decorated with a Flamel, the symbol of a cross and a slithering Snake. To his side there was another man who, for a reason unbeknownst to perplexed onlookers, thought it wise to wear a giant suit of armor. His immense size and odd fashion sense promptly earned him the undivided attention of Reole's people, whom were not used to things out of the ordinary. His armor was gray colored steel with a large, imposing horn reaching out of its forehead. Several long strands of hair extended out of the helmet's crest, and similar sets of horns protruded from the armor's shoulders. The man in the suit of armor sat contemplatively without saying a word.
"Have you seen him do it? Have you seen him perform a miracle?" The patron continued, still strumming his food. Reole's center was as lively as ever. Young children could be seen playing amongst themselves, while an elderly resident read his local newspaper. A miniature dog barked at anything within its proximity, restrained only by its owner's leash. Such was life in Reole.
The whole towns seen'em do it", said the Noodle Shop's clerk. The Founder, man, he's somethin else. I once saw him make a" he paused shortly and then asked, "Wait a sec, you mean to say you've never heard of Father Cornello?
Another patron, who sat at the far end of the counter interjected and explained, "The Founder came to Reole a few years ago and taught us about The God of the sun. He teaches that only those who believe in Leto will be saved".
"and that those who don't will suffer, right? I heard the broadcast to you know", the patron interrupted with an annoyed tone to his voice. The shop owner went on to say that Father Cornello's miracles were unexplainable. One moment there was nothing. Then he'd clasp his hands together, and all of a sudden there appeared an object. Just like that. Surely this alone was enough to captivate a simple people. And captivated they were. So devoted to Letoism were the Reolians, that they labored themselves with creating a large church in honor of the Sun God. The word miracle, however, rang hollow to the red cloaked boy. Something was amiss.
"You two aren't from around here huh? I don't recall ever seeing you in Reole", said the clerk with a puzzled look. He diverted his gaze to the man in the suit of armor, "So what are you, a circus act?
"We're not a circus act. Just foolish explorers looking for something that probably doesn't even exist", responded the patron in the red cloak, who had finally begun eating.
So then why the hell are you wearing that thing? It's too damn hot today. I don't want you collapsing by my shop ya hear", the clerk reached down for a cup and filled it with water. "Good God almighty, you must've gone nuts. Here, take a cup of water. Don't worry, my treat". In an act of kindness, now seen often throughout Reole because of the town's newfound religion, the shop's clerk offered the armored patron a drink.
"No sir, please don't worry about me. I'm fine, really" said the person in the suit as he chuckled. A soft young voice emanated from within the mysterious armor, startling all who were close enough to hear. The clerk, who had half expected to hear the gruff voice of an adult male, instead heard the expressions of a mere child.
The patron yawned as he rose to his feet, and then said to the suit of armor beside him, "C'mon Al, it's time to go." He sensed the befuddled clerk's incoming interrogation.
"What? You can't be leaving already. You haven't even seen Father Cornello yet. You've got to see his miracles!" pleaded the clerk.
"No thanks", said the patron, "Religion just isn't my thing".
As the suit of armor made it to his feet, he unintentionally knocked over the Noodle Shop's radio. He quickly reached out to catch it, but before he could, the radio collided with the rocky terrain beneath. "Now look what ya did. You broke the radio. How am I supposed to listen to the Father now? It's all cause you're wearing that stupid suit", said the dismayed clerk. Guiltily, the apologetic man in armor offered to repair it at no cost. The impact against the ground caused noticeable external damage, but the internal damage had to have been extensive. The unit no longer powered on, in spite of the clerk's incessant attempts to fix it by swatting it with his hand.
"The damn thing won't turn on. How're you going to fix it?" asked the frenzied clerk.
The man in the suit of armor took the broken radio and gently placed it on the ground beside his gargantuan feet. A nearby piece of a tree branch was all the equipment he required. He then used the stick to draw several circles around the device, and within the first two circles he drew an upside down triangle. He quickly slashed the ground within the triangle to create a line that protruded from both sides. He then drew a proper triangle, and another in stark contrast. Both came together to create a symbol in the shape of a star that enveloped the entirety of the circle. What in God's name do you think you're doing? How the hell is that supposed to fix the radio?" The clerk asked, somewhat impatiently.
"It's called a transmutation circle", answered the boy in the red coat. "You'll have your radio back in just a moment" He said, reassuring the old man.
But the clerk looked on confused. How on Earth are a little boy and an unusual man in an armored suit going to fix a radio which was clearly inoperable without sufficient tools? He was even more perplexed about the mysterious circle the armored man had created.
Al, the person in the suit of armor, then placed his left palm over his right hand and extended them outward. To the onlookers' astonishment, the circumference of each circle and symbol unmistakably began to glow. Not even a second thereafter, a hot bright light shot out of it's center, surprising the crowd that had begun to gather. The light dissipated as quickly as it appeared, leaving only smoke in its wake. As it cleared, the onlookers again were mystified in unison, because the radio that had only moments earlier been broken, was now in pristine condition. Al then handed it over to its owner.
"It's... it's a miracle. You can perform miracles just like Father Cornello!" he proclaimed hurriedly, after the radio successfully began to play.
"Nope, it's not a miracle. It's called alchemy!" said the boy in the red cloak.
"Well whatever it is, it's Amazing", said another witness. "Who're you guys?"
"We're actually sort of famous. You can just call us the Elric Brothers"
"The Elric Brothers? I think I've heard of them!", said someone amid the large crowd. "The older one is a National Alchemist called Fullmetal."
The Elric Brothers had gained a reputation among the people of Amestris due in part to their wild misadventures, but largely because Edward, the Full Metal Alchemist was only 12 when he attained his National license. Such a young boy being honored with the title of National Alchemist was thought by some to be too extravagant for a child, and by others a burden that a 12 year old should not bare. The duty of a National Alchemist who, though he was allowed to follow his own research, was first and foremost to serve the State Military of Amestris. Dog of the military was another title bestowed upon an Alchemist with a National license.
Several little boys amongst the crowd tumultuously ran up to Al and asked him the most obvious question regarding his armor, "So that's why you're wearing that ginormous suit huh? You're the Fullmetal Alchemist!"
"Umm, I'm not him. My name is Alphonse Elric. My brother is the Fullmetal Alchemist." Al then pointed to the boy in the red coat, "He's over there".
"So that's Edward Elric; The Fullmetal Alchemist? You have got to be kidding. Him?" said a chubby child with a half eaten sandwich in hand. "That little guy is a National Alchemist? Even I'm bigger than him!" The crowd roared is disbelief.
Such confusion was commonplace in any town the Elric Brothers visited, but neither Edward or Alphonse thought much of it . Ridicule of his height was the one thing Edward despised above most things. In fact, it wasn't uncommon for Edward to verbally, and sometimes physically berate any person who dared mention his height deficiency.