Fullmetal Alchemist characters, settings, and ideas do not belong to me but to Arakawa Hiromu.

The Dogs of War

By Taliya

Blood and destruction shall be so in use
And dreadful objects so familiar
That mothers shall but smile when they behold
Their infants quarter'd with the hands of war;
All pity choked with custom of fell deeds:
And Caesar's spirit, ranging for revenge,
With Ate by his side come hot from hell,
Shall in these confines with a monarch's voice
Cry "Havoc!", and let slip the dogs of war;
That this foul deed shall smell above the earth
With carrion men, groaning for burial.

-Marc Antony, Julius Caesar by William Shakespeare

Part I

Spring of 1920

It had been two years, eight months, thirty-four weeks, and three days since Alphonse Elric had seen Edward's smile. Two years, eight months, thirty-two weeks, and five days since he had last heard from his brother. Two years, eight months, twenty-nine weeks, and five days since Edward Elric, Amestrian Lieutenant Colonel and former State Alchemist, had been declared missing. Two years, eight months, twenty-seven weeks, and two days since Alphonse Elric had taken and passed the State Alchemy Examination to earn the title of "Stone Alchemist", reporting directly to Flame Alchemist Major General Roy Mustang, and using military travel as a means to gather information about his missing brother.

Five years had passed since the Promised Day, since the Amestrian military had decisively won against the Dwarf in the Flask and his Homunculi offspring with the aid of Von Hohenheim and Izumi Curtis. Since then, Edward Elric, no longer the Fullmetal Alchemist, and his restored younger brother Alphonse, had taken to traveling the world in search of knowledge and wisdom. Alphonse had set his sights east towards the country of Xing with the hopes of learning Alkahestry to augment his Alchemy abilities, once he had regained decent control of his mobility and strength. The younger Elric basked in his ability to touch, taste, and smell things, and as a result was an extremely tactilely sensitive person who deeply considered the feel, flavor, and scent of nearly everything. Edward had turned his gaze to the west, desiring to travel beyond Creta and Drachma to learn about the diversity of cultures and ideas of various peoples. When the two brothers felt they had been separated long enough, they would mutually agree to meet in Central to discuss and compare their discoveries and experiences.

Edward had ultimately decided to remain on the military payroll as a means of funding his and his younger sibling's travel expenditures, the extremely generous stipend for their aid against the Homunculi notwithstanding. He had enrolled himself into the Academy, retaining his title of Major and working his way up to Lieutenant Colonel. The tasks set by Roy, his commanding officer, allowed him the freedom to travel throughout country, and when he had built up enough leave, he would wander past the western borders of Amestris while Alphonse gallivanted about in the east.

Alphonse had lost touch with Edward while he was somewhere in northern Creta, along the Drachman border and en route to Mavaria, the country west of Creta and south of Drachma. It was debatable as to which side had kidnapped the Lieutenant Colonel, as both were as openly hostile towards Amestris as they could with a Pact of Non-Aggression between Drachma and an unofficial truce between Creta. Border skirmishes existed and continued despite the fact that Führur Grumman had sought peace negotiations between the antagonistic countries.

The report of rumblings along the Amestrian-Drachman border of a large gathering of Drachman soldiers had prompted Führer Grumman to send Major General Mustang out to the border with his team in tow. The plan was to stop at Fort Briggs to load up on supplies before trekking along the border by foot to the east to the town of Strasburg, then returning to the fort and repeating the exercise to the west to Viere. The entire trip would follow alongside the foothills of the Briggs Mountain range. While this sort of scouting expedition was usually reserved for those of the rank of Captain or lower, the potential threat of a large number of enemy troops required that someone with the skill and ability to ward them off until aid arrived meant that a State Alchemist had to be employed. And of all the State Alchemists the military had at its disposal, who better than the Flame Alchemist, the hero who had proven his mettle during the Ishval Civil War?

"I am going to kill Grumman," Roy muttered darkly as his boots squelched in the melted slush and his breath condensed before his face. He shouldered his pack a little higher and glanced backwards to ensure that none of his men (or woman) had fallen behind. A pathway melted through the knee-deep snow stretched before him, burned away by the judicious use of a controlled string of fire. Trailing him were Major Riza Hawkeye, Major Alphonse Elric, Captain Heymans Breda, First Lieutenant Jean Havoc, First Lieutenant Vato Falman, and Second Lieutenant Kain Fuery. Mustang was more than pleased to see his team whole and able. Dr. Tim Marcoh, the defected Crystal Alchemist, had pulled through and had knit the nerves in Havoc's lower back allowing him full functionality of his legs again before restoring his sight. Roy had never again taken for granted his ability to see the world, and he constantly reveled in the unique colors and shapes the world provided.

The group was headed back towards Fort Briggs after covering the eastern half of the northern border. So far none had noticed any sort of enemy activity, but they were at a clear disadvantage: they were at the base of the mountains with a sparse covering of evergreen trees for camouflage protection. The trees thickened a little up the slopes of the mountains but quickly receded as the heights rendered the land uninhabitable. Despite the drawbacks, the group was vigilant and as prepared as possible. All wore white outerwear borrowed from the troops at the Briggs Fortress, and each carried their own stock of weapons, supplies, and rations.

They were still two days' travel away from Fort Briggs, and each of them looked forwards to having an actual cot to sleep in for a few days before they began the western half of their journey. Roy listened with a small grin as Jean and Heymans teased each other, sometimes generating comments from Riza, Vato, Alphonse, and Kain. Alphonse would sometimes talk quietly with Riza, and it was not hard to see just how attached the two had become. Overall Mustang was pleased with how well Alphonse had integrated himself into the group. The four men were like older brothers to him, and in a way Riza had become a second mother to him, and he, Roy, had become almost—dare he say—a second father after Edward. Or maybe even third, following after Von Hohenheim.

Edward. The reason Alphonse had signed up to become a dog of the military, the reason Alphonse had a living, breathing body. Edward had been Alphonse's older brother, father, protector, and confidant all in one, the unbearably young boy who had shouldered a burden an adult would have balked and crumbled under. The Major General shuddered at the remembrance of Alphonse's desperate, teary eyes when he had come crashing into his office, his quiet hysteria regarding Edward's sudden lack of responsiveness to his phone calls more heart-wrenching than any loud, frantic fit of panic. It was the reason the twenty-year-old was currently tromping around the frozen wastelands of the north with him, as opposed to completing missions in the warmer climes of southwestern Amestris.

Roy had immediately ordered a search for his missing officer, but after two weeks of no leads, he was forced, as per regulation, to declare Edward Elric as missing. Alphonse had taken the earliest scheduled State Alchemy Examination with very little preparation despite Roy's objections, cajoles, and pleads—he had no desire to see the military snuff out Alphonse's sweet, youthful innocence through a possible baptism of blood and death. His result for the written portion of the exam had been a perfect one-hundred percent, which had officially elevated him to the same genius-level prestige his older brother had borne. Twelve-year-old Edward's score had been an astoundingly impressive ninety-seven percent, eleven percentage points higher than Roy's own test result. And why would they not be prodigies, considering their father was the infamous Alchemist Hohenheim? The Major General had immediately snapped Alphonse up, much to the chagrin and vexation of other high-ranking officers who had wanted a chance to have the younger but equally talented Elric brother under their command. Roy knew the motive behind Alphonse's sudden decision to join, and he had no plans to hinder it in any way he could. It was something no one else in the military—other than those he already commanded—understood.

And so now they marched through the vast frozen tundra of the north in search of hidden Drachman warmongers. He consulted his compass and map frequently to ensure they were headed the right direction, for even though he had blazed a pathway beforehand, it did not hurt to double or even triple check, particularly since a mistake in such an unforgiving environment was essentially consigning his group to death by hypothermia. He glanced back again and noticed Alphonse's lips were tinged the faintest blue, while the rest of them visibly shuddered. Stashing map and compass, he stopped and faced his team as they came to a halt in a neat line. He slid his warm woolen mitten off a hand and bit back a curse at the sudden cold that attacked his fingers. Sliding on a pyrotex glove, he rubbed his fingers with a pop of combustion. Seven small fireballs darted away from him, each one orbiting a person and taking particular care to warm up the exposed faces without singing clothing, skin, or hair. A chorus of gratitude floated his way, and Roy could not help but smirk back.

A tingle of alchemy at work sparked along some sixth sense of Roy's, and his eyes narrowed as he tried to pinpoint the source in the trees to his right. He noticed out of his peripheral vision that Alphonse had started and looked around as well. From within the trees a line of stone spikes erupted from the snow. One particular spear of rock slammed into Havoc's side and he choked, too startled to scream. Mustang's eyes latched on the spray of crimson droplets that contrasted starkly against the backdrop of white as his First Lieutenant sagged against the stone spire and his concentration snapped. The fireballs guttered instantly as his team reacted rapidly to the crisis. Fuery, Falman, and Breda were already supporting him, keeping him from widening his wound via sinking further onto the spike as Elric clapped and decomposed the rock as cleanly as he could, his already pale face positively ashen. Hawkeye already had her handgun drawn and was scanning the trees for enemies in the direction the spears had erupted from. His team laid Jean on the stained snow, quickly opening as little of his clothing as possible to better access the puncture while keeping him as protected from the elements as they could manage. Roy knelt next to the man and as gently as he could he cauterized the injury, both the entry and exit points. Havoc screamed in agony, and the male team members did their best to hold him down as he bucked and flailed. He backed off once his task was over, the familiar but highly unwelcome smell of scorched flesh filling his nose, and Falman and Breda were instantly, feverishly working on bandaging his wounds as Fuery radioed for help and Hawkeye kept an eye out for any suspects hidden in the trees.

Rage swept through his being. His subordinate had been injured on his watch. Again. Was he not supposed to protect those under his command? His glove-clad fingers sparked instinctively in reaction as his eyes skimmed the bordering forest. There was a sharp, ringing snap of ignition, and the entire tree line was engulfed in hissing flames and steam, an overt declaration of hostility against Drachma. He closed his eyes, the bright orange of the fire searing his retinas through his eyelids as his mind struggled to repress recollections of scorching flames and charred corpses and destroyed buildings. Roy knew that this act blatantly broke the tentative Pact of Non-Aggression between the two nations, and that this once-peaceful, snow-laden countryside would become a blood-soaked battleground. He already knew that he, along with his fellow State Alchemists, would be called upon to defend their country since Drachma had instigated this conflict. And possibly like Ishval, it would be a massacre against the less technologically advanced Drachmans. Would Alphonse be able to survive the brutal carnage demanded of him, and come out mentally and emotionally, if not physically, intact? How would he, with Edward no longer here to stabilize him? Despondency settled heavily in his chest at the idea. And, he thought, brow furrowing, since when had the Drachmans gotten their hands on an Alchemist? Roy clenched his jaw tightly, hands fisted and eyes alight with fury and anguish as he glared at the burning foliage. Glancing at his injured First Lieutenant, he uttered the first strangled, aggrieved battle cry, "Havoc!"

… and let slip the dogs of war.

Author's Note: I had wondered why I had not come across any sort of reference to that particular passage of Shakespeare's. Mustang definitely refers to State Alchemists as "dogs of the military", and well, Havoc seemed a little self-explanatory, if not exactly what Marc Antony meant when he made his speech. I'm sure you can probably guess who the mystery alchemist is. Poor Havoc, getting skewered a second time around. I might possibly continue it—I have some tentative ideas sketched out in my mind, but for now though, it will be considered a oneshot. I hope you enjoyed it.

Completed: 19.11.2013