Hey guys! Happy new year!

The trip to China was, to be honest, quite bad. I live in a tropical country and I have never seen snow before in my life, so I and my family decided to go to China during winter to see some snow.

Turns out, there was no snow despite the temperature being -13 degrees Celsius in Beijing. Why. WHY?! You can imagine how betrayed I was as we almost froze to death there without seeing any snow.

And, well, after the 10 days trip to Beijing and Shanghai, I fell sick. I'll never ask for a trip to a country during winter again. Winter sucks.

Now that I'm back to school (*cries), I'll be on hiatus until around April 2019. I have started on writing for the next chapter of What a Coincidence, and I have actually finished the next chapter of Flames of Steel, though I have to go through it with my beta first. This (Unequivalent Exchange chapter 4) will be the last chapter to be posted until April. Sorry for that!

Without further ado, enjoy!


Disclaimer: I do not own FSN or FMA


Warning: Speculation on how to bypass Gae Buidhe's curse of mortality. I perceived wounds inflicted by the spear like benign tumours, so yeah. Some character development stuffs and, uh, a cliffhanger.


.

.

.

Lust watched her sibling screaming in agony in silent horror as he went down into the molten gold.

"AAAAAAAHHHHHH!" Gluttony shrieked, bawling and kicking as his body (or what was left to it) melted, mixing with the boiling element. He sobbed incoherently, possibly asking for forgiveness to Father for disappointing him. But Father sat impassively still, watching his son with a critical eye until Lust could no longer see nor hear Glutonny's cries.

Lust waited with bated breath, eyeing the flowing liquid of red as it passed through the clear pipes before Father collected it in a cup.

"My poor son," Father began monotonously. "May you be reborn once more, and serve me loyally till the Promised Day…"

Then, he drank it. Gluttony became one with Father once more, and Lust had already begun to sorely miss him. Envy was already gone before him, unsuspecting Father's method of restoring their bodies until the very last minute. They could not find the reason why the wounds inflicted by that Ishvalan scum were not healing, and the longer the wounds were left open, the more lives within the Philosopher's Stone were lost just to sustain her siblings' body. It was basically replacing blood and preventing tissues from dying constantly, which was why Father chose to reabsorb both Envy and Gluttony for now before recreating their bodies later.

Lust shuddered, as phantom screams of Envy and Gluttony kept echoing in her mind. She was lucky that only her nails were cut off—while they became chipped and ugly, it did not warrant a trip to the boiling bath. She clenched her fists, drawing blood, as she vowed to avenge her siblings—

"Lust," Father called, and she snapped into attention. "Go to East City and take care of the State Alchemist killer there."

"But, Father!" Lust exclaimed, feeling betrayed. "Gluttony and Envy suffered because of that Ishvalan scum! Let me go to Liore—"

"It is Father's order, Lust," a voice whispered, and suddenly shadows began to wrap her body, and sinister, red eyes of Pride narrowed at her. "That Ishvalan is problematic, but the State Alchemist killer is even more so. He has been murdering potential Human Sacrifices here and there, so he ought to be taken care of first."

Lust began to protest, but a tendril of shadow slithered around her neck, and she choked in fear.

"Don't be rebellious, little sister," Pride purred in her ears. "Or I'll eat you."

Father sat on his throne, watching her emotionlessly as she finally complied.


.

.

.

Ed's blood ran cold.

"...A riot, you said?"

The voice on the other side hummed.

"...Yes," Mustang said, his voice slightly static. It was three days after their confrontation with Scar and Archer, and two days after he and his brother had reached Resembool when Ed received a phone call from the colonel. "After you exposed Cornello's conspiracy, Liore went into a state of chaos. The devotees hunted those who disagreed with the Letoist teachings, and they retaliated in return. It turned into a bloody riot."

Ed felt numb all over. A riot was far from their intention. They just wanted to find out about Cornello's Philosopher's Stone, a rare lead that could meant restoration of their bodies. The priest was a despicable man, someone who had tricked the entire town into blind devotion so that he could use the people as a loyal army—and all Ed and Al had done was to reveal his ugly secret.

It was meant to free the people...wasn't it?

A riot. They had triggered a war. Was it all their fault? Ed and Al had left immediately after telling Rose to decide for themselves, but surely the townsfolk...

"The people of Liore have been under Father Cornello's guidance for so long that they do not know what to do once he's gone," Colonel Mustang reasoned. "Religion, after all, revolves around faith. It is about their way of life, about a devotion towards one cause. How would you feel if I told you that the Philosopher's Stone is a bogus?"

Ed paled even further.

There was a prolonged silence. He'd never felt this lost since their failed attempt at transmuting their mother.

A sigh echoed from the line.

"Fullmetal," the colonel called softly. When Ed didn't answer, he tried again. "Edward, listen to me. You and your brother are still young, and unfortunately were in the wrong place at a wrong time. You had a good intention, yes, but all actions have their own consequences."

Oh, he'd heard of that phrase for so many times, alright. They even learnt it in school. Yet this was the first time it truly registered his pigheaded brain.

Consequences. Casualties. People's lives were lost...because they were such a busy body—

A loud click from the line startled Ed, causing his poor ear to ring.

"I know what you're doing, Fullmetal," Colonel Mustang tsked. He had snapped his fingers over the phone, that bastard. "You tend to blame yourself, just like that time when you transmuted your brother's soul. You might have to take responsibility for what you've done, but remember that this is not solely your fault. Cornello is the main perpetrator, and the Central Army didn't do their job properly to stop the conflict."

The Central Army? "Shouldn't it be the Eastern Army? I reported Cornello to you."

"They came to take command, forcing our troops to withdraw from Liore. Since then, the riot took a turn for the worse until just recently. I'm going to go there to assess the situation myself."

Ed chewed his lips.

"Take me with you."

"No," came an instant reply.

Ed reeled back, hurt—before it turned into anger.

"Why not?! Like you said, I have to hold responsibility for what I've done! I should go there and help—"

"No," Mustang was relentless. "I forbid you to go to Liore, at least until I've deemed it safe—"

"I'm not a child!" Ed cut him off, slamming his prosthetic hand onto the wall.

"I never said you are," Mustang snapped. "But remember who you are, Fullmetal. You are a State Alchemist, a military dog. Read your history book and tell me how the State won the Ishvalan Civil War."

"To hell with history! I—"

Then it clicked.

"...I-I'll…" Ed choked, throat suddenly constricting.

"That's right," Roy whispered bitterly. "A high-ranked commander was murdered in Liore, resulting in a political uncertainty. The prospect of Liore now isn't good. You might have to do your job as a State Alchemist there, Ed."

A chill descended on him.

Ed was well aware of what kind of job that would be, and he'd known of that ever since Mustang visited the Rockbells those years ago. Granny Pinako and Winry were very against his decision to be a State Alchemist due to said obligations, but Ed was more interested in the prospect of research funding and resources that the military could offer. The times of war has ended, he'd reasoned, so they shouldn't worry too much.

But war could happen at any place, any time, in any size and for any reason.

Remembering the bloody mess of his transmuted mother in that dank basement—the only life he'd ever killed—murdered, his own mother—and to think that he had to do that over and over again

Ed felt sick.

"Fullmetal, are you still there?"

Mustang's voice cut through the suffocating silence that had came over their conversation.

"I—," Ed gulped, trying—and failing—to compose himself. "Y-yeah, I'm fine."

"If you say so," the colonel relented. "So, you understand why I have to do this?"

"...Yes," the blond finally said. Mustang had done his best acting as his and Al's guardian (as he'd promised to Granny), so the least Ed could do was to obey him. Occasionally.

"Good. For now, just focus on the Philosopher's Stone, and returning Alphonse's body to normal. I heard from Major Armstrong that you've met Doctor Marcoh on your way to Resembool."

"Yeah," Ed was glad for the change of topic. He had too many morbid thoughts as of now. "He gave us a clue on how to obtain the stone. We'll go to Central after my automail is done."


.

.

.

Roy rubbed the gloves in his coat pocket nervously as he stepped out the military train.

He was finally here, in Liore, four days after the riot had ended. The town was a bit grander than any typical settlement in Amestris due to the presence of Leto statues and paintings decorating its infrastructures. It was, in a way, an ingenious method of integrating the religion in Liorean society, which made it no wonder that Father Cornello could garner so much faith from the townspeople.

Ed had even told him that there is a massive Leto statue in the train station, welcoming visitors and Lioreans alike. His charge had once scoffed at the sight, thinking that the townspeople must have been very uneducated to pray to the statues for 'miracles'. As an atheist himself, Roy could understand where had that come from.

Alchemists in general do not believe in divinity. Instead, they believe in science, in natural laws and facts. Religions such as Letoian and Isvalah believe that their gods are the only ones capable to perform 'miracles', but with alchemy, humans could play god. One of the reasons why the Ishvalan War had occurred was due to the tension arisen from this very fact, as the Amestrian government full-heartedly supported the advancement of alchemy at all cost.

Roy looked around, hoping to catch a glimpse of the famous sculpture, but he couldn't find it. Instead, there was an empty pedestal at the heart of the station, which made him wonder if the statue was destroyed during the riot.

"Sir," Riza, his right hand woman, suddenly whispered to him. "11 o'clock, soldiers."

Roy blinked, before facing said direction. Indeed, the Central Army was coming to greet them.

"Colonel Mustang, sir," they saluted as one of them stepped forward. "I am Captain Wright of Central Army, the next in command after...after Brigadier General Klemin was compromised."

Compromised. Roy was dying to know the why and how.

"I see," Roy replied, his eyes narrowing as he put up his facade of a commander. "I have so many questions for him, but I suppose it's unfortunate that he isn't around."

The captain, to his credit, didn't even flinch. Did he not feel any remorse about his own commander's death? Though Wright did nod, his expression turning grim.

"I could fill you in, sir," he offered, to which Roy agreed. "We should leave the station. I assume you wish to see the Ishvalan Saint?"

Oh yes, definitely. Wright gestured to follow him, and Roy complied, his troops hot on his heel. On the way out of the station, they had to part in half to give way to a carriage carrying a large painting of…

"...What the—what is that?" Roy blinked rapidly as he asked, because the figure in that painting was in no way Leto. After all, said figure was...familiar, majestically standing in front of a crowd while raising a gleaming golden spear in victory.

"Ah, that's the Saint, sir," Wright replied, his tone incredulously turning reverent. "He is the saviour of Liore, so the townsfolk decided to honour his deeds by decorating the town and replacing broken artworks with paintings and sculptures of the Saint."

...What.

"...Mr. Archer there looks nothing like how you described him," Havoc, another of Roy's closest subordinates whom he'd brought along, whispered to him as they continued walking. Roy wanted to go back and confirm what he'd just seen, but that would break his character as a commander now. "You should get a painting or a sculpture of yourself, Chief. Who knows, maybe you can gain more followers instead of haters this way."

"I'm already popular with girls, Havoc," Roy whispered a counter smoothly. "Perhaps it's you who should get one, instead. Who knows, maybe you can get a girlfriend this way."

"What did the man do here, exactly?" Riza asked the captain as Roy left his petrified lieutenant behind. "To replace the Lioreans' god…"

"I wouldn't say 'replace', ma'am," Captain Wright hummed. "But many Lioreans did see the Saint as an agent of Leto or other gods like Ishvala. He protected them from Brigadier General Klemin, who opened fire at the defenseless crowd for reasons of radicalism."

"...Opened fire."

Wright nodded. "With a machine gun, and later on a pistol."

Damn, it seemed Grumman was right. The top brass, or at least one of them was rotten, not to mention stupid. Radicalism was bad, but it does not justify indiscriminate killing of defenseless people. That was massacre, plain and simple.

"Casualties?"

"None."

Havoc, who had just recovered from Roy's very insensitive comment, tripped on his own feet.

"What," he choked, cigarette falling from his mouth. "How is that even possible?!"

"Well, uh, how to say this," Wright scratched his head, before shrugging. "The Saint summoned a giant pink flower-shaped barrier and shielded the Lioreans from the bullets, to put it simply."

Silence.

"You must be pulling my leg, captain," Roy blurted out, his voice strained.

"With all due respect, sir, I kid you not," Wright replied. The other Central soldiers who were accompanying them nodded in agreement. "It does sound ridiculous, but there's a reason why the painting just now have a flower in his hand."

...Okay, to be honest, it wasn't really something new. There was already a rumour of said magical barrier before this; who says he couldn't use it again? Only now they knew of its general shape—which was weird in Roy's opinion, considering that Archer didn't strike him as a type who likes flowers.

Though, the barrier might've just been due to alchemy, but Roy wouldn't know until he sees it. For now, he would classify it as such, else he go crazy.

"And the spear?"

"Oh, that was from when he slayed the demonic beast."

"...Could you start from the very, very beginning, please?"


.

.

.

It was only when he was finally seated in front of the Saint and looked closely did Roy noticed something fundamentally confounding.

"You're not an Ishvalan."

Archer blinked, before snorting.

"You're not the first who'd actually said that," he said. "Funny, that the Lioreans and the Central Army haven't said anything of my origin."

Captain Wright might have sputtered if he was here, but there were only Roy, Riza and the Saint in the private room provided by one of the townspeople (Havoc standing by outside the building). Throughout their journey to meet the town's saviour, Wright and his men spoke of the Saint as a benevolent Ishvalan, tolerating no evil yet still accepting the soldiers. Veterans who had fought in the Ishvalan Civil War were grateful for him as he showed no discrimination towards them, despite his kinsmen being slaughtered by their very own hands—giving them some sort of a closure to that horrifying tragedy.

However…

"You're not a pureblood Ishvalan, at most a descendant of one," Roy concluded. "I am a Xingese descent, so I know pretty well of Xingese' physical features. I didn't noticed it before due to the rain, but now that I've seen you more closely you're more of a Xingese than an Ishvalan, colouring aside."

Archer hummed, before shrugging. He neither confirmed nor denied Roy's statement, so it was a possibility. Interracial marriage was common after all, especially in a multicultural society like Amestris. In fact, before the Ishvalan Civil War, Ishvalan mix could be found everywhere in the country, easily identifiable by their red eyes, tanned skin and/or white hair. Even Roy was aware of one under Olivier Armstrong's command, having met the soldier in a military gathering some few years back in spite of the prevalent incarceration of Ishvalan soldiers.

And since normally Ishvalans rejected the craft of alchemy, considering it a practice based on hubris, Archer's constant display of alchemy made sense. He was not restricted by the religious law because he wasn't one of them. Then again, there was also Scar, so Roy was not so sure of his conclusion.

On the other hand, the fact that the Ishvalan Saint was not even an Ishvalan implied many things.

"Did you even participate in the Ishvalan Civil War?"

Archer was silent for a moment, before tilting his head to the side.

"That's quite a jump in your assumption, colonel," he replied. "I may have a slightly different physical characteristic than a typical Ishvalan, but that does not mean I am not one. Who says I was not fighting the civil war?"

"I have never seen you before."

The Saint's eyes landed on the lieutenant standing behind Roy, who had just blurted that out.

"How so?" he asked curiously.

Riza knitted her brows, silently asking permission from her superior to speak further. Roy nodded, prompting her to straighten.

"I was a sniper in the war," she admitted calmly, and Roy felt a pang of sorrow and regret for not being able to protect her as promised. Not even now, when she had to relieve her memory of her own brutality. "Your physical characteristics are unique enough to tell you apart from the other Ishvalans. Even if you have never actively participated in the battles, I would have noticed you."

Because the Führer's order was absolute and clear: exterminate all Ishvalan. Women, elderly, children; fighters or innocents, hostile or not—kill them all.

And any surviving Ishvalans would have heard of the Hawk's Eye—the hidden, bloodthirsty killer who'd never missed a target. They would have reeled back in shock to meet her face to face before rage overcomes them to act out of revenge…

Which was why Riza lost her composure and blinked in surprise when Archer leaned forward in interest instead.

"A sniper, huh?" he asked, unexpectedly intrigued. "You sounded confident when you admitted that, but not boastful or arrogant. And I know that a significant number of Ishvalans had perished by the snipers' hand, bested only by the State Alchemists. The fact that you can face me eye-to-eye despite that speaks of your strength."

"That," Roy interjected, shifting as the Saint's attention returned to him. It was good that Archer held no malicious intent when he'd said that, but still. "And the fact that only now you choose to reveal your prowess to the world makes no sense. If you did participate in the civil war with this kind of alchemy, we would have noticed immediately."

Archer blinked, before relaxing on his seat, regarding the two officers with a glint in his eyes.

"That's true," he finally said. "However, while I may not be present during the war, that does not mean I had not heard of the news. What makes you so sure that I am not here for revenge?"

A chill ran down Roy's spine. Archer may be compassionate, but the murder of Brigadier General Klemin revealed that he had a ruthless side as well. And the fact that this man was regarded by many as a Saint, he could easily made waves and threaten the country just by his words alone. An act of revenge could mean a full-blown war.

Roy leaned forward nonetheless, his own eyes sharpening as he regard the man in front of him.

"I will incinerate you before you could do that."

"Ho?" Archer smirked. "You sounds confident, Flame Alchemist."

"Do not underestimate me, Mr. Archer," Roy rubbed his gloved finger while Riza took a step forward, hand already fingering the gun holster on her hip as she silently prepared for a conflict. "You have saved many people across the country, but it won't stop me to end you here should you pose a threat to the country despite that."

A snap of his fingers was all he needed.

"How unforgiving," the Saint purred—and suddenly, swords appeared out of thin air, tips pointing at the two officers' neck. Roy's eyes widened in shock, not daring to move lest he lose his head. But a glance at his frozen lieutenant steeled him, readying his hand to summon a spark in retaliation. "To be ready to kill in cold blood for the sake of the country. As expected of you, Hero of Ishval."

Roy froze, before losing his composure as rage began to simmer through him.

"Do not call me that," he snarled viciously.

Archer blinked.

"You mean a hero?"

"I am no hero," the colonel scowled. "Especially not that of Ishval. There is nothing heroic in burning people to death."

"You saved the country by doing so."

"Bullshit," he hissed in reply. "I don't see the people I save. All I saw were the citizens of my own country, screaming in agony as their skin melted and their blood boiled. Tell me then, oh Hero of Liore—am I a hero or a monster?"

Silence.

Roy continued glaring daggers at the man in front of him, hands clenching so hard it drew blood under the gloves. He hated the title, despised it, cursing the Führer and cursing those ignorant fools who'd hailed him as a saviour of the nation for performing a massacre. And, most of all, he hated himself for being so naïve to have enlisted in the military, foolishly believing that he would do more good for the people.

The Flame Alchemy is the greatest and most powerful form of alchemy, his master had said. But in the wrong hands, it would bring naught but ill fortune.

Roy realised that he envied Archer, who could serve the people freely without the military looming over.

Archer held his gaze. He seemed to have found something in Roy's eyes, because his gaze softened as he willed his swords to disappear.

"You're no hero," he finally replied, his voice empathetic for some reason. "But I believe you're not a monster either. Just a human, chained up like a dog and unable to do what you wish to do the most."

Roy exhaled, feeling tired all of sudden. He took a glance at Riza to make sure she was alright, before eyeing the man warily.

"You...understand."

"I do," Archer nodded solemnly. "Allow me to advise you, Roy Mustang: You can't save everyone. To save someone means not to save another, because no matter your intention, you can only save those who are on your side. Salvation is limited to a set number of people, and it will drive you to madness if you fail to see it."

Roy couldn't reply immediately, because now that Archer had said that, it was true. Judging by the tone, it made him wonder if the man had once been driven to insanity due to this very reason. Roy once again glanced at his most trusted subordinate, who had the authority to end his life should he ever step off the righteous path.

Archer followed his line of sight, before nodding in approval.

"You're not alone," he said. "That's good. People under your command will be your priority, thus you're clear on who you should choose to protect."

"...Were you alone?"

The Saint fell silent, before smiling bitterly.

"I wasn't alone, until I was."

Imagining himself without his subordinates, without Riza—Roy's heart sank. And then, he was reminded of Edward, whose heart must have shattered when Roy barred him from going to Liore to help. His charge, who was so ready to help the people, who blamed himself for something that was not entirely his fault.

"...Keep that in mind, and you'll be alright," Archer said after a moment of silence. "On another note, I apologise for being rude before. I had to make sure that you're not another pawn of the enemy."

Roy blinked, thrown off by the sudden one-eighty change in the Saint's behaviour. "The enemy?"

"Yes," Archer nodded, before gesturing for Riza to sit down as well. She glanced at Roy who nodded, before complying, dragging another chair to sit beside her commander. "You must have many questions for me regarding the recent events that happened in Liore. Before we go there, I want to ask you something: How much do you know about the Philosopher's Stone?"


.

.

.

Archer poured some tea into two cups before placing them on the small table, directly in front of the quiet officers.

The colonel and his lieutenant ignored the tea, choosing to sit still with their eyes downcast. The revelation must have set their mind whirring, because suddenly, everything made sense.

"...Shit," Mustang finally said, rubbing his forehead in distress. "It sounds preposterous, but the evidences are there. The wars and riots, the shape of the country, the Führer…"

Archer sipped his own tea calmly, letting them digest the implications of the Order of Ouroboros' plan. Though, he had to raise an eyebrow when the colonel suddenly stood up to head outside.

Two criss-crossed swords appeared at the door, halting Mustang in his tracks.

"Where are you going?"

"The telephone," Mustang whirled around and snapped at him agitatedly. "The Elrics, the Philosopher's Stone—I need to tell them!"

Archer sighed. It seemed the revelation shook the usually calm and collected colonel to the point he couldn't think straight.

"Calm down, will you?" Archer said. "Liore's communication system was sabotaged, which means you have to use the military SCR that may or may not already be monitored. Tell them face to face instead of using the telephone."

Gritting his teeth, Mustang paced around for a minute before sighing explosively.

"...They're going to Central in three days time," he mumbled to himself. If Archer was a normal human, he wouldn't have been able to hear it. "Maybe I should go there myself—"

"You can't just go there for no reason," Archer said, starting the colonel. "That would raise suspicion, especially when you're still under order to investigate and aid Liore.

Mustang turned to his lieutenant, Hawkeye. But before he could even say anything, Archer interjected, "Also a no. You do know that King Bradley is there, right?"

The alchemist threw his hands up, "Then what do you want me to do?!"

"Stay in Liore," Archer said, raising his hand to stop the colonel from interrupting. "This town is a Blood Crest, and I assume there was not enough blood spilled yet since the Homunculi were still here when I arrived. There's a high chance that the Homunculi will be back to finish the job."

Besides, considering that Mustang was a State Alchemist, he was a prime candidate for Human Sacrifices. The Order of Ouroboros would be less keen to kill him, though not so much for the subordinates whom Mustang had brought along. But Archer had heard of the Flame Alchemist and his combat skills, which assured him that the man would at least be able to protect his own men.

And now that both Central and Eastern Army were here, it became less likely for the Homunculi to attack with so many witnesses around.

But there was a problem. Two days after his confrontation with the three Homunculi in Liore, Gáe Buidhe reacted strangely. It let out pulses of golden light (which inevitably the surrounding Lioreans to prostate at him) before settling down. Then and there, Archer knew that the Homunculi had managed to find a way to bypass Gáe Buidhe's curse of mortality, though how they did that he had no idea. Since keeping the golden spear around was now pointless, he decided to dissipate it.

For now, Archer could only hope that his fight with them deter the Homunculi from coming to Liore for awhile.

Hawkeye blinked in surprise. "You're not staying?"

"No," Archer shook his head. "I have matters to do somewhere else, one of which regarding Nina Tucker. Letting her stay in Madame Christmas' club is dangerous for both her and the hostess' staffs."

"Right," Mustang sighed. "Paranoia is good. Are you planning to bring Nina Tucker along with you?"

"Yes. I have a friend who can take care of her. The Elrics will be at Central in a few days, right? I can swing by and check on them after I drop Nina off."

Mustang raised an eyebrow. "You have a friend? I thought of you as a loner of sort."

Archer shrugged, before grinning at the prospect of seeing those people again. "Friends, actually. They're a bit eccentric and rowdy, but good people nonetheless."

Nina seemed to be a quiet kid, but Archer was sure they would welcome her. Besides, he had some things to clarify, and maybe get some help to aid Liore.

"It's time for me to visit Dublith."

.

.

.


Before you start frothing; No, Archer did not tell Roy and Riza about his magecraft. They thought of it as a form of alchemy. Unusual, but not impossible. Well, until they see Archer's bigger toys in the future.

Archer only divulged to them relevant information about Philosopher's Stone, Homunculus and Amestris being a giant transmutation circle since they're directly related to what was happening in Liore.

And, hm…Who stays in Dublith again?

Sorry for the cliffhanger, and see you in April!