Chapter 4
If it was possible, Drachma was even colder and harsher than Briggs. Their slothful trek to Tetrebol was made worse by a snow storm that raged the entire night. Briggs had specialized tanks that normally tore through the snow, but even they struggled against the heavy snowfall and fifty mile-per-hour winds.
It took them ten hours to reach Tetrebol, a distance that should have only taken six hours. The large party rolled into the open city gates and stopped at its center in front of a large, city-hall-like building called The Alexander. The Alexander had large pillars that connected the roof to the steps that led to the entrance. It stood in the center of hundreds of Tetrebolian tenements that all seemed to be the same shade of brown and looked as if each gust of wind would be the one that finally toppled them over. The Alexander, however, was beautiful. It was a mixture of rich woods and deep bronze metals that made it look impenetrable. It stood in the middle of the city like an island. A wide round-about separated the Alexander from the rest of the city. From the Fuhrer's understanding, the building served as the place where legislation was discussed and passed.
When the Amestrian soldiers finally began filing out of their tanks, they were all sore, hungry, and a few degrees short of getting frostbite. Fuhrer Mustang had made sure to bring a lot of man power with him to Tetrebol, but not nearly as much as he wanted. General Armstrong had convinced him to only take half of her tank fleet. It would be unwise to leave Briggs completely unprotected. Still, he had fifteen tanks that housed six to eight soldiers each. Not a bad showing in the least.
It should be enough to dissuade unfriendly negotiations, Roy thought. His own tank housed himself, Brigadier General Hawkeye, Lieutenant Falman, General Armstrong's new aide: Major Pershing, and a Briggs soldier who operated the tank.
They'd be fools to try anything, the Fuhrer thought. He mused that if they were attacked, the Brigadier General would protect him at all costs.
The party began filing towards the entrance to the Alexander. Falman and Pershing flanked behind him while the Brigadier General was ahead of him. He took the opportunity to look at the back of her head. He felt a sudden tightness in his chest.
"Then you should know that I'm ready to take on any role you ask of me, sir"
That's what she had said. It had shocked him, of course. The obvious translation, to him anyway, was that she meant she'd be his bride should he wish it. The tightness in his chest increased. Stupid, self-sacrificing woman. How could he ask that of her?
Unless, she'd want to, he thought, his head quickly filling with images of coming home to her. He pushed them down into some dark corner of his mind and refocused on the task at hand. His career was far more important than his personal life. Peace. That's what mattered. Nothing else.
With some degree of success, he was able to put his mind back on track. When they reached the large doors of the Alexander, Roy noticed the streets were eerily quiet. It felt as if the town had been completely abandoned. Before he was able to think much of it, the large wooden and bronze doors of the Alexander opened.
"Fuhrer Roy Mustang, what an honor!" said a man with more facial hair than face.
"Tsar Falk! The honor is all mine" the Fuhrer said with a polite bow, his hand over his heart. The Tsar reciprocated the gesture. He was a tall, striking man with a thick, well-kept, black-and-white beard and mustache. He was taller than the Fuhrer by a head and he had dark eyes that felt like a precision shot when their attention was on you. He was smartly dressed with formal charcoal-grey military wear that was covered in medals and adornments. He had lavish silver epaulettes on his shoulders, silver aiguillettes that draped his left shoulder, and a blue satin sash that crossed across his chest and over his right shoulder. Even his air seemed to be decorated with a regality that Roy doubted he could ever replicate.
The two men shook hands as each of their guards eyed them cautiously. The Tsar's guards were much less formally dressed with long grey coats and ushankas. They all seemed to share a genetic trait for thick and dark brows that were perpetually furrowed.
"Please, come in. Relieve yourself from the cold. I'm afraid your soldiers will have to stay outside. My own soldiers are bringing out fires and warmer dressings for them now. Unfortunately, the Alexander is doing some maintenance to our furnaces so it is rather cold inside. I was hoping the repairs would be done by the time of your arrival, but we fell behind" the Tsar said. Even with the furnaces down, this was a far warmer welcome than Roy expected.
"You're very kind, thank you. Amestris is grateful for your hospitality" the Fuhrer said.
"Of course, please take it as sign of our good will towards peace" the Tsar said. Underneath his layers of whiskers, he smiled.
"So, Tsar, is there a place we can speak?" Roy asked, wanting to get to work.
"Yes, I thought we could talk in my office. I have a large fireplace that will keep us warm. Please, follow me this way" the Tsar said as he led the group inside the Alexander and up a luxurious flight of stairs. They walked down hallways that seemed to take them deeper and deeper into the building. When the Tsar finally stopped in front of two intricately carved white doors, Roy got the impression that they were as deep into the building as they could go.
"I hope you won't mind if mine and your soldiers would stay outside and guard the doors? I feel this is a private discussion between men" Tsar Falk said.
"That's fine, but I insist that my aide, Brigadier General Hawkeye," he gestured to her and she bowed, "accompanies me. I'm afraid we're a packaged deal"
"I see. Well, if that is how it must be, then that is how it must be" the Tsar said as his soldiers opened the doors to his office. He gestured for them to come in first and quickly followed behind as the doors shut. He traveled behind his large desk and sat down, again gestured for them to sit. The Fuhrer complied, but the Brigadier General kept standing and kept a polite distance, trying to blend in with the walls.
The office was small for an office of a leader of a nation, but it was grandly decorated. The light sources were all made of crystal, expensive books graced the bookshelves, and a plush, red carpet covered the wooden floor. The office had an enormous fireplace on the west wall that roared like a lion and heated the room generously. Roy worried he'd begin sweating from the heat.
"So, Fuhrer, we are both reasonable men I think, yes?" the Tsar asked.
"I certainly would like to think so" he replied.
"Then I'm sure you have no desire to avoid the matter at hand"
"None at all"
"Good. I'll state this clearly, Fuhrer. My country and myself, we desire peace, but we do not forget the blood that was spilt sever years ago" the Tsar continued.
"I understand that, but Amestris was not the one to break the Non-Aggression Pact"
"Such trivialities make no matter to the wife of a soldier who raises four babes on her own after such an onslaught"
"No, I'm sure it doesn't, but you can't expect us to have laid down our arms after you willfully broke a peace agreement" The Fuhrer keeping his head and voice level.
"I do not wish to put the blame on you. I killed my men as much as the Briggs' soldiers did. This I acknowledge as true. However, my people will not stand for amiable negotiations with Amestris without some form of...compensation" the Tsar said and Mustang didn't like the sound of that.
"What did you have in mind exactly?" the Fuhrer asked, his voice growing deeper. The Tsar stood up and began looking into his large fire. The heat was starting to get to Roy. He felt his skin begin to dampen.
"I have two proposals. The first is the most reasonable and will bring the happiest of outcomes I believe. The second, I will not reveal unless you refuse the first offer. I hope it does not come to that" the Tsar said and something in his voice put the Fuhrer on the defensive. He too got out of his seat. He felt the Brigadier General come by his side.
"Alright, Tsar Falk. What's your first proposal?" the Fuhrer asked. The Tsar turned away from his fire to look at Roy. His eyes bore into him like lasers.
"The wall. You destroy it. How can peace be obtained when such an abhorrence exists?"
"Your country has proven to be violent and untrustworthy. You've already broken one Pact. What's to stop you from attacking our country once we tear it down?"
"We are making a peace treaty, Fuhrer. Quite a larger commitment than a pact"
"If you can't keep your small commitments, why should I believe you'll keep your large ones?" the Fuhrer asked, sweat now rolling down his brow.
"Trust is a part of Peace, Fuhrer" the Tsar said.
"No. No, Amestris will not tear down the Briggs wall. I'm afraid such a step can't be obtained until you and your country can prove to be good allies."
The Tsar smirked. Roy felt his hands tingle as they anticipated a fight. Another bead of sweat rolled down from his hairline.
"That's really too bad Fuhrer. I thought you were going to be such a sensible leader" the Tsar said and quickly placed his hands on the ground. The spot glowed and Roy realized there must be a transmutation underneath the carpet. The Fuhrer and the Brigadier General were both about to attack when there was a glowing beneath their feet, and suddenly sharp pains erupted all over their body. It felt like millions of needles were entering his skin, making it impossible to do anything but fall to the floor and writhe.
He's using some form of Alkahestry. That's the only way to get that kind of distance, Mustang thought. The Tsar began to laugh.
"Xing really is such a fascinating country. My ambassadors certainly learned a lot from their practices. We added our own touches, of course. How does it feel Fuhrer? I imagine your pores filling with frozen sweat would be really uncomfortable. Sweat has to be frozen at subzero temperatures so I gather the pain of having so many freezing object imbedded into your skin must be very uncomfortable. Why, you can barely move" The Tsar said with a menacing flash in his eyes.
"B-bastard" Roy was able to croak out.
"Yes, yes. We're all very upset. I'm horribly untrustworthy, just like you said. Time to move on, I think. Fuhrer, I want to suggest my second proposal. As I'm sure you've noticed, we've evolved our alchemic practices here in Drachma. I think we may even be the authority on water-based Alchemy. You see, the human body is about 70% water and it's pretty simple to imagine the possibilities when mixed with Alchemy. I just froze your sweat so that it feels like you have tiny shards of glass in every one of your pores. Pretty potent, isn't it? Well, we can do a lot more damage than that. Why, I can even freeze your blood. You don't survive very long after your blood stops moving through your bloodstream, to your heart" the Tsar said casually.
Roy and the Brigadier General continued to writhe, but controlling their bodies was impossible.
"So here's my proposal: you either knock down that infuriating wall, or I set off the giant transmutation circle outside of the Alexander where all your troops are, then freeze them to death in a matter of seconds. Either way, we win. My people will pay back the blood you spilt seven years ago, Mustang. If not today with your troop of frozen soldiers, then tomorrow when we pillage your land after you've torn down the wall. It's your decision, Fuhrer" the Tsar said.
"You won't get away with this" the Brigadier General said through a pained voice and Roy felt a sting in his chest. He had put her in harm's way again.
"I will, aide, I will. Aw, now don't look at me with such disdainful eyes. To show you my good will, I'll give you twenty-four hours to decide. Men!" The Tsar said and four Drachman soldiers entered the office. Roy didn't see any of his soldiers and figured they must have been captured. The soldiers surrounded the Fuhrer and the Brigadier General. Roy felt a hard object hit the back of his skull, and then…darkness.
He woke up in blackness. Panic took hold of him. Was he really in a dark room this time or had he gone blind again? He tried to make his eyes adapt quickly to the darkness, but he just felt himself spiral into a sinking hole of panic. This only increased when he finally remembered how he got there.
"General?! General, where are you?!" he yelled as he began lifting himself off the floor.
"I'm here, sir" said a nearby voice and Roy felt a hand slip into his and another slide onto his shoulder blade. Grateful to be reunited, he let some of his panic fade and gave a reassuring squeeze to the hand that held him.
"Are you hurt?" he asked, still holding on.
"Aside from our shared injuries, no. I think they hit you harder"
"Figures. General, are we in a very dark room?" he asked, afraid of the answer.
"Yes, sir. It took my eyes awhile to adjust. Yours will too" she said and he breathed a sigh of relief.
"Thank you, General"
"Here, come this way. Lean back on the wall. You might have a concussion" She said as she escorted him to one side of the room. He did as she asked and leaned against cold metal. He shivered. After his panic had died down, he realized he was freezing. He put his attention on his hands and realized they were gloveless. He checked his pockets.
"They took my gloves" he said and began taking off his left boot.
"Sir, what are you-"
"Got it!" the Fuhrer said and held up a glove he had kept safely hidden away in his shoe.
"I don't think that'll work sir. There's something odd about these walls. I think this might be a jail cell specifically made for an alchemist, maybe even designed with your flame alchemy in mind" the General said. His eyes were beginning to adjust now and he could make out the curves of her silhouette in front of him. He positioned himself so he could put a palm against the wall in question. It felt odd, not like any metal he'd dealt with before. He clapped his hands together and tried to transmute it. Nothing.
"It's a pure element. No traces of any other metals and I can't transmute a metal I have no familiarity with. I'll try melting it. All metals melt" He said and stood up. It was a fraction to fast as he felt himself nearly faint.
"Sir!" the General said as she reached for him. She put an arm around his back and let his arm hang over her neck.
"I'm fine. Back up a bit and let's torch this place" the Fuhrer said and the Brigadier General complied. When they had backed away as far away as they could from the wall, Mustang let out a barrage of flame over it. He snapped his fingers to-and-fro for a solid two minutes straight, but after a while, it was clear no damage was being done.
"Damn it!" the Fuhrer said, "It must be a metal that can withstand incredible heat. I can't scratch it"
"Sir, your injury. Please, sit down" she asked and he complied, leaning against the wall closest to him.
"Looks like we're stuck here, General" Roy said as he felt her slide down next him, her arm just touching his.
"Yes"
"Noticed any wood lying around?" he asked.
"No"
"Can't even make a damn fire to keep us warm"
"They're only planning on keeping us locked up for twenty-four hours. I'm not sure for how long we were incapacitated for, but I'm sure it was at least for a few hours"
"Well, we'll survive"
"Sir, what's the plan?" she asked. He considered her for a couple moments and laughed.
"Oldest trick in the book: we ambush them when they open the door with some fire and then you grab weapons off the fallen. We escape" he said and he felt his mouth go dry.
"So, we kill again?" she asked and he heard rare unevenness in her voice.
"General, I will do everything in my power to make sure it doesn't come to that" he said. He took her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. He didn't mean to do it. It was just a knee-jerk reaction. A little prayer that asked that she never hurt again.
"I know you will" she said and enclosed her fingers around his. Her fingers fit nicely with his, like two puzzle pieces being placed together.
"I've burdened you again, General. I'm sorry. I think, for as long as I live, I'll always end up having to use flame alchemy and for that, I'm truly sorry" he said. It was a confession of sorts. He'd always felt guilty for the guilt that plagued his aide and he was compelled to let her know.
"The burden is ours to share" she said simply.
"It shouldn't be"
"It'll never go away, sir. Even if you took all the responsibility for those you've killed with flame alchemy, you'd never be able to take away the guilt I feel for all the people I shot during the war. No matter what, I am to blame for that. Please, do not pity me, Sir" she said. They both looked straight ahead, not daring to look each other in the face, despite the darkness.
"I don't pity you. I just don't think you deserve to be punished for the rest of your life"
"On that, Sir, I'm afraid we disagree"
Crazy, uncontrollable thoughts began bubbling in his head, one right after the other, and then one thought hit him so hard he thought his stomach might drop right out of his body.
Are we keeping ourselves from each other as a form of penance? He asked himself. As soon as he thought this, his brain kept going back to it. It was a nagging idea he just couldn't let go. What if every instinct he had about her loving him was true, but she didn't feel like she deserved to be with someone after all she's done? Was her plan for them to both die alone and then their debt to the world would be repaid. Stupid, dutiful woman.
They sat in silence for several minutes as all this information stewed in Mustang's head. It drove him mad and he decided that he needed to talk to her about it. There was nothing else he could do. This was not something he could contain within himself for seven more years. He tightened his fingers around the Brigadier General's hand, which he was still clinging to.
"Brigadier General" he said, his eyes still trained in front of him. He let their lids fall as he asked, "If we hadn't done the things we did, if we were just two unburdened people instead of who we are, would you-"
"Yes" and it was almost just a breath. It was barely audible, but the word hit him hard like a freight train. He knew she had not misinterpreted. They were always on the same page. There was no need for him to finish his question. He felt an insatiable urge to show her affection, to show her any sort of tenderness. The hand not holding hers reached out into the darkness and found her cheek. They were looking at each other now, or at least looking in the direction of each other. Roy's palm had landed on her cheek and his thumb lightly stroked her chin. She tensed and he felt her cheeks go warm underneath his hand.
A greedy urge begged to kiss her, but the General put her hand on top of the one on her cheek and kindly took it off. The Fuhrer felt a piece of him tear.
"We can't"
"I know"
Roy felt them both stop breathing as a cruel pain rippled through his body. It was better not knowing. He looked forward and away from her again. Their hands were still interlocked and he couldn't bring himself to unlace them. He worried his heart would truly break if he let go. Instead, he held on and the Brigadier General made no move to pull away.
Just for a little longer, he thought as he closed his eyes once again and leaned his head against the wall.
For either minutes or hours, they sat like that. Still and silent, but with a warmth in their palms, neither being able to retreat.
CRASH!
The entire room shook as the opposite wall began to tremble and light flooded into the once dark room. Light stung the Fuhrer's eyes, so he used his free hand to cover them. He quickly forced himself to stare at the light source, however, and a wicked smile appeared on his face. Two familiar figures came into view.
The cavalry had arrived.
AN: I'm so glad this chapter is done! I've been slowly working on it for days.
I know this is really angsty, but I'll come through for you. Don't worry.
Did the water alchemy make sense? I hope the water alchemy made sense.
Couple things:
-Ushankas are those Russian hats with the ear flaps
-The room that Roy and Riza were in was made of a special kind of metal that I'll explain it in more depth in the next chapter.
-The Alexander is named after a famous Russian leader, Alexander Romanov
-For the Alchemy concerning the room they're in, I was thinking that if an alchemist has never encountered a particular element before, they probably wouldn't be able to manipulate it until they understood its chemical make up. Does that make sense?
Next chapter: The saviors revealed! And other stuff.
Please review/comment if you get a chance. I really like hearing your feedback and it helps motivate me to write faster ;) Thanks so much for reading!