How cliche was the last chapter? Ah well. It can only get more cliche from here. Or less, depending on the way it goes. Still, one cannot just laze about as I have been doing. It seems that I must move onwards if this story is ever going to end. Well, one merc down. I guess four more need to die. Let us proceed.
...
Edward was never a morning person.
Sure, he no longer had to sleep Al's shift as well, but that still didn't mean that he enjoyed getting up early. As such, it was quite late when he had finally awoken, proceeded to head downstairs after putting on his clothes, and walk into the breakfast room.
Because this was an inn, the bar, much unlike the pubs of Anglia, served a double function as a breakfast room. As Edward entered the room, he saw a face he sort of hoped he would not encounter again. Two to be more precise.
The worst part was that it seemed that the two were waiting for him.
One of the two, Joshua, waved him over to the table.
"Hey Edward! Over here!"
Seeing as the man had called, and the other tables were frequented by guests actually finishing their breakfasts, Edward took up the third of the four seats and sat down to communicate with Joshua and Ayan.
Edward suspected, judging by the other plate, that they had ordered him breakfast already. Talk about a railroad life.
"And here I was thinking that you said that you weren't going to get involved. Care to explain why you became a overnight hero?"
Edward groaned as he pulled in his seat and stared at Joshua, becoming a bit annoyed at his little smirk. Was this guy trying to make his best Mustang impression?
"I never said that I wanted to get involved. Trouble just... you know, follows me, right?"
"Does it not for everyone?" Asked the terrorist/freedom fighter/weapon destroyer/orphans and puppies killer. At least he was affable.
"Oh, stop snarking around, Joshua. He only just woke up." Said the third figure at the table, Ayan. She was still in her rebel uniform, beige military coat, reminding Edward a bit of an Amestrian uniform, matching her beige trousers, though her cap was deposited on the chair behind her.
"Great. Now come the height comments."
Edward was genuinely a bit surprised when Joshua and Ayan stated at him as if he had just gone mad.
"What, should I insult you for being just slightly less than average? I mean, you are well within the lower quartile, I presume. About the same height as an Angloterran."
A tiny thought nudged in the back of Edward's mind. If he was the same height, then why had the Angloterran soldier-
"In chapter one" stated Lancaster, for only he could break the fourth wall to point this out to you.
-Called him a shortarse?
"Maybe slightly shorter. Honestly, those guys have practically no average."
And there was the answer.
Ayan shifted herself, placing her hands on the table, clenched together, and started to input her idea to the circumstance.
"Well, rumour is that you saved a bunch of people. Took out that armoured mercenary with almost no trouble! I think one of the rebels said you knew exactly what to do regarding her. Although you nearly got yourself killed? What were you thinking!"
Ayan pretty much stated her character there. How she pretended to be cruel to her men, Edward had no idea. Instead, Edward decided to neatly step around the fact that he could beat a suit of armour, knew exactly how to deal with it, ranted when someone called it inhuman, and the ever present fact that he was nearly killed. Again.
"Uhh... what about Alexander?"
"Oh well done Edward." He thought. "Nice sidestep to the same topic!"
Ayan cleared her throat and began to speak.
"He died instantly from the wound. Now, no tears will be spilt over his death, and the shopkeeper you saved told us about how you saved him from his henchmen... although he at least died bravely. Didn't expect it, but unknowingly made a heroric sacrifice."
Edward remembered how Alexander shot inside the armour to no effect. Had he done so to... save him? Damn, everything got weirder. Next thing you know, they would be saying that Hoplite...
"Hoplite is a self centred man. Yes, he wants the Angloterrans defeated as much as you or I, Ayan, but I warn you not to let him get too close. If he can use us for his own benefit, he will."
Well, Edward's point just spoke itself. Funny how these things always occured at exactly the right time.
"I was aware of that, Joshua. But thank you all the same."
Edward saw her personality, and was a bit dissapointed to find that it matched Hawkeye's a lot. Would anybody have any trace of originality? Edward decided to find out if there was any originality in the uniform.
"You know, Ayan, you rebels are pretty well equipped. In fact, your uniforms seem to be even more formal than the Angloterrans I have seen! Still, is the uniform made exclusively for your rebellion from Amestris?"
Ayan's eyes perked up, her eyebrows raising, but quickly came back down again.
"You are extremely close, but no. This uniform is Cretan, but redesigned exclusively for us. Bought it from a Cretan trades company in Augero. You see, Isosceles wanted a trained army, not a ragtag bunch of misfits, and felt that a uniform could reflect that fact. As for the Angloterrans... they scrapped formal uniforms since 1850. It's all camoflague and functionality for them since then. I think that is why they are the only nation around here to use helmets, and goggles for that matter, often with the helmets, and they still have a uniform, but it is designed to be practical." Replied Ayan. "Still don't understand why the Anglians wear full face helmets though, leaving space only for goggles, when in actual combat. Why, its impractical and only serves to remove their humanity slightly." Added Ayan quickly.
"Yes. I heard that they are looking into bulletproof vests now." Added Joshua. "Now, back to your actions."
Edward caught the neat rerouting. He decided to ask about the suit of armour.
"Say, what happened to the woman I captured?"
Joshua turned to Edward, a look of interest in her eyes.
"They took her to the police station; Anglian made, we only had the palace dungeons before, and that was rarely used. They got her name, Rebecca, nationality, Amestrian, like you, and her mission, to disrupt rebel forces. She has not given us any information of the Angloterran forces or the other mercenaries, but she has admitted that neutral investigators are in the area. She does not mention what they are investigating, however."
Edward took in this information. Not much, admittedly, but enough to explain her reasons for being In the city killing rebels. Why civillians were on her agenda too was not clear, however.
"Is she being... treated well? I mean, the rebels didn't seem too happy to hold her."
Joshua exhaled, taking in the question, applying his own knowledge, and releasing his knowledge in the form of an answer, his neurons working in a complex manor as the brain that fascinated so many scientists and doctors set to work.
"I can't say for sure... I mean, don't get me wrong, I think we are the good side in this conflict, but... you saw yourself that everybody in this town is not lawful good. Or even good, for that matter. They won't physically torture her... that is impossible, but they might verbally torture her. Please bear in mind, we may know alchemy, but we might not be as... accepting of the consequences as the Angloterrans are. I would not be surprised if the guards do many things that would shame us."
Before Edward could voice his reply, Ayan stood up as a rebel soldier slouched past the window of the inn, not looking that interested in his own posture.
"Excuse me for a second. I need to keep my appearence up. It does help keep people like him alive."
Ayan quickly left the room, and Joshua caught Edward's attention.
"You should watch this... garuntee you it will make you laugh."
Ayan approached the poor soldier, and cleared her throat very audibly.
"Soldier!" She yelled as loud as her lungs could allow.
The soldier snapped round in a terrified manor, as if Ragathbzar himself was in front of him, and his eyes widened in sheer horror as he saw what was behind him, at least to him, was far, far worse.
An immoral human who seemed to produce unmelting ice that penentrated his confidence even in the heat of this desert.
"Eyes front, back straight, and stand to attention, am I clear!"
"Y-ye-"
"Do not stammer soldier! Or do I have to yell at you even more!"
"No sir, I-"
"No excuses! If I catch you again, you will be cleaning the barracks with nothing but your own blood, sweat and tears! Are we clear?"
"Yes sir!" Yelled the soldier, eyes wide open and having the clear expression of a man who could only see the living embodiment of fear.
"Keep those eyes normal!"
"Yes sir!" Exclaimed the soldier at last, saluting Ayan without a hint of fear or even expression of emotion in any of his body language for fear of becoming deaf in the next five seconds.
Ayan smirked cruelly, unnerving the soldier, yet she smirked even more to find that the soldier did not falter in fear of her.
"Very good. Dismissed."
The soldier marched off, eyes front, back straight, and she marched back into the room with a smile on her face and sat back down, ignoring the looks of shock coming from the other patrons. With a wave of her hand, consumption of the meals continued, though one eye was kept on her at all times.
Ayan then realised that Edward was staring at her in fear as well.
"Aw, you look pale. Don't worry, that's just an act. If you think that is bad, bear in mind that I am just giving these men the training and diseplence they need to take on Angloterra... our enemies have to put up with a year of this in training. There is a reason why 'survival rate' replaces 'pass rate' over there. Now do eat your breakfast... its figs and honey, a local specialty"
Edward decided that he was glad he never underwent Angloterran training as he took a bite out of the lovely juicy fig, honey sweetening the taste as he swallowed his first bite, immedietly following it with another. It was so simple a dish, but it was a good breakfast. Angloterran training... at least Izumi didn't kill her students (mentally scarred for life nonwithstanding).
"The Angloterran navy is one hundred times worse. Their soldiers, seamen and even their pilots don't fear death, for they have already experienced far worse than-"
"Can we move on! You're scaring everyone here!" Exclaimed Joshua loudly, much to the delight of several people eating breakfast. Ayan apologised and let Joshua continue.
"Oh Edward, Representative Isosceles wishes to meet you. He is certainally very keen, so we'll meet him after breakfast. I think it is about the prisoner, or so he said."
Edward nodded and took a bite out of his second of four figs. They really were delecious, freshly grown here in this unique city so vastly distant from his culture, yet so close to Ishvalian culture.
It was a shame that everybody knew that such a delicacy could not last. Soon, food would be rationed as well, for the Angloterran siege was taking its toll on the walled city.
...
Alexander Fields walked along the road, staring at the crowd that had amassed in the main road that led to the palace. Nearby to this crowd stood large groups of rebel soldiers, uniforms cloaking them admitst the beige houses of this city. Alexander suspected that the soldiers were not entirely happy with what was to occur, and indeed some people in the crowd were chanting against it. However, a much louder group was also in the crowd and was stating its intentions as loudly as possible.
Down with Isosceles, stop our slaughter, peace over death, all these chants came from a group that wanted to avoid conflict. This group was the anti-Isosceles movement, a movement that wanted a new representative and a chance to surrender to the Angloterrans. They were proof that Lancasters tactic of waiting was working as planned. But they were a minority amongst the populace who wanted independance from the Angloterran empire. Still, Alexander mused, they were the enemy. If they were combatants, it was his job as a mercenary currently under the employ of the Angloterran empire to fight back. Still, he had to be careful. While he had been marching around unnoticed thus far, he might still be recognised. And if he was recognised, then he would be shot repeatedly and killed to death, if that made any sense.
As he approached the doorway where his partner stood, arms folded as he leaned against the door, sunlight simply ending to the dark void that lay beyond, he nodded. His partner returned the gesture, then simply looked as Alexander himself leaned against the doorway and took out his pistol, cleaning the gun that had served him well for so many years against many a opponent.
"You know, if they see you cleaning that, they might shoot."
"If they could see you, they would shoot. Honestly, you had the most impractical disguise of all time when you were actually fighting rebels. No, I think we are safe here. Say, why did you wear that stupid disguise? Into battle, no less!"
His comrade sighed, then turned his head to the crowd.
"Long story. The reasons would make you laugh."
"The disguise made me laugh." He responded light heartedly.
A quick chuckle came from his peer, who then turned his head back to Alexander.
"True, guess I cannot argue. What I meant though was that you wouldn't believe me, however."
"What, does it involve God? Or faries?"
"No, I'm an atheist, and faries do not really exist. Its a complex thing really, since it does involve one or two logic failures. Although, my mental condition has been described as unstable, of all things, and maybe even underlying rage issues, so that could explain a lot."
Alexander absorbed this information, but it seemed unwilling to be fully accepted into his mind.
"That does not fit my thoughts about you. However, given that you are a mercenary rather than a investigstor, your chosen profession, given that you are not truly a mercenary... have you even killed?"
"No."
Alexander did not buy that. Then again, he never bought anything. Could there be guilt? Certainly, he was a mercenary, not a investigator, despite his attitide. Although the answer did support what Alexander was going to say.
"So, in anycase, you must be mad. I mean, if you don't kill, why become a mercenary?"
The other man pondered this for a minute, rubbed his chin, where hairs had started to grow despite his care to attention due to the recent activity, then gave a response.
"Okay... I am going to say something incredibly stupid that may result in you shooting me, but the reason why I became a mercenary was the same reason why the investigators were always aware of where you would be and could intercept you back when we were hunting the assassins."
Alexander was still for a moment, looked into the mans eyes, then bought his gun directly into the man's face.
"Gyah!" Yelled the mercenary as he cowered away from the pistol, eyes wide with fear.
"Relax mate. Its unloaded, see? He exclaimed, taking out an empty clip and revealing that there was no bullet in the chamber. However, the other man was still not convinced.
"Do that again, and I might be mentally scared for life." He replied in monotone to his friend.
Alexander smirked.
"Why, never had a gun pointed directly to your face at point blank range?"
The mercenary read over his thoughts, body language expressing this as his eyes went diagonally upwards to his right and a "eeh" noise escaped his lips.
"Lets just say... no. I have had a gun pointed directly in my face. Fired as well, to be precise."
Alexander stared at him with a look of concern. The other mercenary noticed this.
"I wasn't injured. I was extremely lucky."
Alexander was a little confused, and suspected that the man dodged. In anycase, he realised thst dwelling on the distant past was useless, for he himself had been 'extremely lucky' multiple times. He turned back to his fellow mercenary.
"Ah well. Besides, I was doing exactly the same thing, albiet in quite the discrete manor. Great insane, impractical, faliure of pragmatism minds think alike, eh?"
The joke was poor, but it got one chuckle. Exactly one.
"Indeed mate. Although I am not certain of whether I should leave. To be certain, Charles and I are incapable of determining the actual risk to the city. We found no evidence of alchemic activity or any evidence suggesting that the Xersians had any plans to do so. Now, one of the investigators claims that there is something in the palace, not underneath as Julian suspected the trap was, but at the same time I do not believe that that investigator is entirely trustworthy."
Alexander raised an eyebrow at this accusation.
"Not trustworthy?"
"Yes. The chap is Xersian, and is pretty much an anti-Isosceles guy. I saw him talking to one of the people in that crowd over there. You see him? Tall Hassassian skinned fellow with the large beard? Well he seems to be with our investigator. I believe that the palace may hold incriminating evidence, possibly what we need to prove that a dangerous transmutation is in effect."
Alexander nodded, but decided to inquire further.
"So, the gambit pileup gets larger. Say, why does Lancaster allow you and Charles to investigate? I mean, doesn't he know that ypu know that he knows that the investigators know that he can't move in due to the risk of a transmutation, and is thus keeping the siege up to force the town into surrender, thus using everybody for Angloterra's own end?"
"Well I think that he knows that we know that he knows about our arrangement, and that he knows that we know that something is wrong with the trench. He is likely using us to find if there really is a risk. I mean, everybody in the camp is saying that this whole conflict is an excuse to pour soldiers right up to the border of Xing without international outrage. Not like I can do anything about it, other than driving civillians away from the other mercenaries."
Alexander nodded and folded his arms, leaning back like the shorter mercenary. He knew exactly how this man must feel, unable to help others in the long run. Lancaster was one manipulative bastard.
"Excuse me mate... sorry I could not tell you earlier, but Lancaster told me not to. Still, it seems like he expected me to tell you anyway. Basically, the trench was a complete circle when we got here, and there were markings, but the rebels destroyed it when the Angloterran military did not fall for their baiting trap."
The other mercenary fell silent for what seemed like an age, completely contrasting the voices of the crowd gathered around the hastily assembled platform while his eyes widened as if the whole world had struck him hard on the head.
For quite a while, something which worried Alexander, his comradestood still and unmoving, while the world carried on around him. Not even a breath came out of his mouth, which Alexander suspected meant that the information he had given was one hundred percent what the guy was looking for. Finally, he spoke, his voice clear as he gave a quick word of worry to his comrade.
"Is... is everything okay?"
No answer came from the man, his mind working overtime as it digested and diffused the information to the parts of his mind which could function a response. At last, he seemed to fall out of his daze, his eyes still wide.
"Thanks for the information. Yes, we were correct. Chances are that the trench was part of a transmutation circle that may have been designed to kill the Angloterran soldiers if they entered the city, but that doesn't explain what it was, or why they destroyed it. C-can I ask you a favour?"
Alexander contemplated this, although why he was not aware, for he already knew his own answer
"Sure. By all means, ask away,"
"Is it possible that you don't inform Lancaster? If the status quo changes... the next move might not be so predictable."
Alexander laughed.
"You are mistaken. Lancaster would assume the worst and simply order Wellington's artillery battery to absolutely anihilate the city until they surrender, or simply wait out the whole process before making his move to use his current tactic. Don't worry, I shall not inform him of this update."
The other mercenary smiled at him.
"Thank you, Mr. Fields."
"Hey, that is what I'm here for right? I am the unofficial head of you mercs, so if you have any problems, come to me, you hear? I'll do what I can to help. Now you look responsible, but if you are on a mission with me, actually use my offer to assist yourself. After all, we will not always have such an opportunity in the camp, but if you are going to outgambit Lancaster, then you will need friends other than Charles. I can see how good he Is, but two men are not enough. For now, tell Charles, but focus on keeping civillians alive. I can't trust Julian or the Angloterrans enough."
His mercenary friend nodded, and turned his head back to the crowd. For the first time, he noticed the book on the floor beside 'the dragon'. He bent down and looked at the cover.
"Advanced Xerxean alchemy... hey, where did you get this book?"
'The dragon' looked towards him with a brief sideways glance.
"Oh, I got it here."
"Oh, so you mean you stole it?"
"What! I would never do a thing like that to an innocent person just for a quick, mass produced book? No, I borrowed it from the library."
"Y-you mean this library here? In this city?"
"Yes. Where else?"
Alexander had never been so confused in all his life.
"Wait, wait a minute. You, a mercenary fighting the rebels in this city and a official enemy of this city, walked into the library, borrowed a book containing secrets that would be dangerous in Angloterran hands, and left without anybody even batting an eyelid?"
"Yes. Is there anything to this?"
"Well, you know, you... sigh. Talk about refuge in audacity. Still, I do not believe that you should be a mercenary. To be honest, the investigator role at least gives you a bit of anomaly, and is a little bit safer, especially since the rebels are no longer shooting at them. Doesn't stop you from coming into town, anyway, and you get more time to talk to Charles. I am afraid I cannot see what you hope to gain from this."
The mercenary sighed, then gave a honest response.
"I know. You give reasons that I should follow, but... I am not afraid of fighting or my death. I do not fear the rebel soldiers, but I fear that if I leave, it will become harder to keep tabs on other mercenaries coming in, the tactics of the Angloterran military and the current mercenaries. Not to mention that as a mercenary, the investigators have no control over my actions. It is foolish, and not good for my health, but the benefit, even if the drawbacks for me far outweigh the benefit, exists. That is why I act like a complete idiot."
"Yes... quite the self aware, intelligent berk, you are. Brave though. I mean, it is most certain that with an attitude like that, Lancaster will inevitability go against you. Who knows, maybe I will even have to fight you under his orders. I mean, silly rabbit, idealism is for kids! Still, if you are with me today, then we may as well carry out our mission."
"Yes. Something is going on with the crowd, but... did you find out anything about Sing, Alexander?"
"Yes... he is dead. Saw a local notice board stating it. Large bounty in water on our heads, you know. And Rebecca has been captured. Can't remember by whom."
The other man's eyes shot up.
"Really? I wonder how they managed that, given how dangerous ehe is with that knife."
"Yes. It was stated that there would also be a demonstration. Given the armed guards... are they using her to draw us out?"
The two were inturrupted by a man walking on stage, carrying a small box with him. The crowd quietened down as he cleared his throat and began to speak.
"People of Xersia! Today, I bring you living proof of our great victory! As you know, for the past month, as the Angloterrans besiege us, as our food and water supplied thin, as the corpses of our dead start to line the streets, we know that the Angloterrans refuse to come out, refuse to come into our city! They stay outside as cowards, while our galliant defenders, fighting for truth, justice and for freedom from Angloterran oppression, hold off the mightiest army known to man, making sure that the righteous will prevail against tyranny!"
Understandably, loud cheers came from the masses lined up along the street. This man was not trusted, but damn did he give good speeches. It was one of the reasons why he had quite a bit of power.
"Our enemy claims to be moral! To live by a charter that they deny to us and those who wish to follow religion! Their military code of honour has failed here, and now these mercenaries dare to tear into the conflict, denying us the right to live, no longer distinguishing between soldier and civillian, as those shells fired every night do! But it seems, though we might not all believe in him, that God has chosen us! For a man not of here has felled one of the most dangerous mercenaries, delivering her into our custody! And on that same night, our forces have felled another mercenary!"
"God." Said 'the dragon'. "The most effective means throughout history to garnish undue support."
"It takes me all of my will not to shoot this man. Even as a religion hating Angloterran, I find the act of invoking belief in God for one's own purposes disgusting. Religious people may be wrong, but those who use God for themselves are so much worse." Added Alexander.
"And I stand here today, so we can celebrate our victory! Look what our enemy uses to destroy us! Our enemy uses alchemic abominations!"
And with that speech, he opened the box to show something that made the two mercenaries reel back in shock as to what it was.
Inside the box was a piece of large ham.
"Says something about you, Hoplite!" Came a voice from the crowd. To Hoplite's credit, he recovered rather well.
"Heh heh, yes, I suppose I do speak in large ham. Now, can we have the real box, please?"
Someone bought up the real box, and Hoplite opened the box, revealing an armoured head inside which he picked up and displayed to all.
"Behold! The monstrous abominations of alchemy that we draw the line at! This... inhuman thing here in my hands is a murderous being that exists not in the flesh and blood that we do, but in a suit of armour! Nothing more than a abomonation! A freak of alchemy that exists only to kill and slaughter!" But now we can fight back! Look at this freak, and tell me, does it look dangerous now?"
"No" came a mighty chant from the crowd.
"Do you have anything to add to that, Rebecca? No? The silent treatment, huh? Well tell me, people, why does Angloterra use these such evil things against us? Why do they eat happily, while illegal creations of a science they cannot even carry out ravange our town?"
Despite the loud cheers, quite a lot of murmurs of disagreement arose from the crowd. It was painfully obvious that some members of the crowd did not agree that she was a freak, others disagreeing with the idea of what they were doing. Yet none dared speak out, for fear of rejection amongst their more determined peers, supporting the abuse of Rebecca. As the speech continued, the two mercenaries communicated amongst themselves within the darkened doorway.
"This is not a demonstration... this is just prejudice, and verbal torture... those bloody bastards."
Alexander's eyebrows raised at this. It was not often his comrade swore, so it was certain that was a moment of crossing the line for him. He knew exactly why.
"Our objective is to save her, but... too many guards. I'm sorry, but we can't make a move yet. I think the purpose of this is to get us to expose ourselves, and then get us as well, or simply to get our names out of her. This man sickens me. And yet, she must endure this torture. Cells, this is so bloody annoying!" Exclaimed Alexander angrily.
"We rescue her as soon as we get the chance, do we not?"
"Yes. But until then, we can only watch. I hope we can control ourselves like some members of the crowd does. Let us not falter..."
"Now, I ask you, look at this freak!"
"She's not a freak! Came a voice from outside the crowd, and its owner, shocking the crowd, leapt up on stage to comfront Hoplite, who stood surprised at this sudden intrusion.
"Is-is he the guy who beat her?" Said a voice from the crowd.
"Y-yes. But why are saying this?"
"Probably to inform a certain interested party nearby, I presume." Said the first voice in a moment of genre savviness.
The man, a young man, probably no older than seventeen, by Alexander's guess (he was a year wrong) walked up to Hoplite, and stared him coldly in the eye. For the first time, Alexander saw that his partner was lost for words.
"W-w-wh-what!?" He yelled quietly to himself.
"Hoplite! Is this how you treat your prisoners, you sick fuck?"
"What, what are you saying, young man! Please, you know very little about people like her-"
"I know all there is to know about people like her! She is a human who has had her soul ripped from her body and placed inside this armour via her blood seal! But underneath that, she has emotions, thoughts, dreams, and is sentient! No, she Is as human as she gets, even if she is stuck there!" Yelled the blond haired, golden eyed man. But as Hoplite receeded, a voice spoke up.
"Who are you to lecture us, kid? How can you call her human despite the murders of innocent civillians! Tell me, huh kid!"
"It is not what you are that matters, but who you are. She may be a vicious killer that I despise, but that is who she is, what she is is human."
Cheers of approval and jeers of disproval came from the crowd, but all were silenced as the soldiers stood to attention for the next figure to arrive.
"Representative Isosceles!" Exclaimed Hoplite in surprise, saluting the figure.
"Councillor Hoplite, I will no longer permit this torture. Edward Elric, I apologise for my subordinate's behaviour, but he has his ways of getting information. Now Hoplite!"
And as Isosceles said something that both mercenaries could not hear, Alexander turned when his subordinate started to speak.
"Ohhhhh... bugger."
Alexander smirked and gave a chuckle. This man was kind, but now was swearing all over the place. Still, he now knew why the mercenary was troubled. He turned to him and stated something that you probably should have figured out by now several chapters earlier.
"Something bothering you, Alphonse?"
To probably your surprise, this paragraph did not end on that cliffhanger.
"Yes, Alexander. Very much so. But... gah! They're taking Rebecca with her! If they head to the palace, we'll never get her! Talk about bad timing. Still, if brother's there... I feel bad for using him, but let us find the rest of the armour and take it to the camp... brother will do our job for us. This display should drive him to do it anyway, we just need to make his inevitable job easier."
Alexander was quite impressed by his comrade's immediate plan. But then again, it would have to have a huge factor of luck, and trust in idealism over cynicism on the part of the rebels.
Alexander laughed in a evil manor to himself from within his mind, where none could hear. Idealists like himself were so easy to manipulate.
...
To say that the palace was lavishly decorated was quite the statement. The palace most certainly decorated, with quite exquisite artwork from Xerxian, Hassassian, Xersian, Xingese, and even Angloterran art masters wishing to provide this palace with craftsmanship that was envied by many of the town. Admittedly, this created a bit of an economic divide, but the town was a victim of that basis, even after Angloterra took over from Gaulia. But the horrific deductions of water that had led to rationing had hit the palace as well, but Isosceles did not mind rations. After all, he knew that everyone had to give it their all if they wished to stop the Angloterrans, him most certainly included.
However, the palace was not too well decorated as well. The rooms were generally bare, and the recent conflict made this fact even more so. Still, in this room, a couple of elaborately decorated tapestries contrasted the white marble walls, while the relatively new coffee table was surrounded by two couches, one frequented by one fifty five year old man, and the other occupied by a eighteen year old man and a man in his thirties.
Currently, the three figures were drinking Xingese tea, albiet tea which was not a whole cup due to water rations. It was a specialty that Isosceles would not have otherwise provided were it not for the eighteen year old guest.
But there were not three figures conversing. A fourth was in the room, although unnoticable, for It was literally a helmet laid on the coffee table.
"I-I am truly sorry, Mr Elric and Rebecca... I am afraid that while conducting my day to day activities, some things can crop up unexpectably that I despise. If I was aware... I may have had a chance of stopping my subordinate from conducting such an immoral act of what I can only describe as torture on behalf of this city and the rebellion... this is not the path I intended."
The helmet decided to speak, pointing out the inevitable flaws of keeping her here despite what had happened.
"I do not see why your little 'morality' includes helping me despite what I did. Honestly, If I were you, I would carry on torturing until I got what I wanted, then kill me. Why are you so interested anyway, you short horny brat with chronic hero syndrome? Face It, the world is cynical. You should only care for yourself,"
Isosceles, a man respected by all around him for his idealistic approach to life, his rationality, his authority, bravery and kindness, sipped his tea, then proceeded to provide an answer that he had decided would suit the question.
"To answer what you say, I see our rebellion as a idealistic struggle against a cynical empire. True, some things go wrong, such as people such as Hoplite using us to simply advance his own agenda, and people finding blatant racism to answer their troubles, but the idealism remains. Though these people intend to set us down the wrong path, I will not fall to prejudice and selfish ends. If we are to win this war, we need to stay on the path of righteousness, and not fall to the sins that makes a revolution go full circle. If we are to be heroes, then we need to prove to Angloterra and the world that we are above such petty, vulgar things and show that we deserve our independance, our future. And what Bashir did was wrong. He was straying from the path that I have set, and tried to take people into the realm of attrocities and evil action simply for his own gain. But we of Xersia deserve independence, of this I am most certain, but to do so we need to prove that we can be trusted to be a prosporous nation that defies many sins. But to do so would require not torturing. Now Rebecca, I have bought you here today to apologise on behalf of my subordinate and my people."
Isosceles turned to Edward.
"And Edward... I would like to apologise to you as well. What Hoplite did was wrong and amoral, and I am sorry that none came out before you to protest against such abuse. What was done has been done, and I know that no amount of apologies will change that event. But our rebellion, I want you to know, is supposed to be more moral than the Angloterran empire. I would rather surrender to the empire than see this rebellion I started fall into corruption and cruelty. I say long live the rebellion, and as you can see from the mercenaries hired by Angloterra, you see, as civilians became their victims, why I want it to live long, but only if we remain a better choice than the empire."
Edward nodded, but was not wholly convinced.
"If Hoplite is out of line, why not strip him of his title? I mean, there is no reason to keep him if he is, as you said, corrupt."
"It is not my will, but the will of the people. To simply dispose of him would be the beginning of movement to a dictatorship. I want a democratic institute, like how the Emperor of Gaulia is chosen, not the dictatorship that resides in Anglia, where one man, greed above all, resides in complete power of his country, and even the empire. Arthur Cunningham resides as the sole leader, despite the parliament, and sets his country to war. Kind of like what you said Amestris was. But I will not allow myself to fall into the inhuman monstrosity... his character, not the fact that he is a suit of armour... that he is by denying the collective wills of the people of this city. The people believe that he is the best for some reason, possibly his rationality when it comes to military affairs, and I respect their decision and make It official, just as they voted me in and voted for independance, and just as they can vote me out or vote to surrender to Angloterra. I hold one emergency power... to stop this conflict If we stray from our path. And this breach of democracy despises me."
Well, thought Edward, that is a lengthy way of putting it.
"So why do you need us?" Asked the last figure, Joshua. He had not contributed thus far to this conversation, and had only just put in his two pence, so to speak.
Isosceles smiled.
"Edward... Joshua... I know that you are both well rounded men that would never engage in torture, from what I have seen thus far. While Joshua may engage in terrorism, he only targets nearby soldiers classified as combatants anyway. Now, we wanted information from her, and both of you have shown that you will assist the rebellion, either for your own ends or the ends of the innocent people of this city. So I ask you to help save lives by finding out about the mercenaries and the Angloterran plans by asking Rebecca, but in a moral way that does not fall into the realms of morally wrong actions. I authorise you to do anything... but I know that won't work. No, I want you to convince her to stop killing civillians. We-"
Isosceles was cut off by a laugh from the helmet.
"No... no I shall not make my job harder. Killing civillians fulfils my contract and Is easy. Therefore, I shall kill civillians. If you think that I will fall into simple moralities, think again. I killed plenty of times for money. Its how I became a suit of armour. And no, I never paid back my debt to society. I was due to be executed, and although Amestris is a much more moral country, I am still to be killed tomorrow, for I killed again as Inleft the country. My body, at least, will be executed, and I shall die with my mind, not live on like those Angloterran armoured sods. No, I am a murderer, I die tomorrow, and I cannot escape that fate. I always lacked the courage to break my own blood seal, but I got the news before this assignment. Amestris won't kill me now, but they said that my mind will decompose tomorrow, and nothing will be done to save it, not like much can be done anyway, as another punishment. No, if you want details on the mercenaries, you had better give me an incentive to do so. Now, since I die tomorrow, I should reveal that all I wanted was a place where I could be accepted. Angloterra gave me that, so I say "all hail Angloterra!" But the mercenaries? I could care less. The leader is too honourable for his own good, the second in command is a treacherous guy who is up to his own gambit, of which I am not certain. The first two are friends, to an extent, despite both wishing the other was not a mercenary. The third seems to exist purely to kill, and the fourth, Zhang Sing, was an arrogant, incompotent buffoon, and I am glad that he is dead. So... enlighten me. Come on, get me to tell you! Need a clue? Alright... Edward Elric... is that your name?"
"Yes"
"Impressive. Yes, let me ask you, let me have some fun... you are the Fullmetal Alchemist, correct?"
"How the fuck did you guess that?"
"I read news of your retirement. Anyway... I want to know, how can you claim to know me? Tell me how I am, what I feel, and why I will die tomorrow. If you want names and details, you answer my questions. So Edward... explain my past. You know I was a laboratory guard."
"Umm... I suppose you murdered someone, correct?"
"Well done. You guessed the thing that pretty much got me here. Wow, I am so happy, clearly when you actually knew beforehand" came the overly sarcastic response.
"Okay. So I suppose you were caught and 'executed' by transferration of your soul, correct?"
"Ha! Yes, I suppose you know the rest. The only part you don't know was that I was released after the coup, killed again, and fled the country as a mercenary until I found my kind in the Angloterran military. Now then, pipsqueak-"
"I'm not short anymore, you know."
"Well to me, you are. I wish that this armour was Angloterran made... they actually make the armours out of better materials and shape them as well. Only the armet helmets remain a constant design. They're conviniently human sized as well. Anyway, why the hell do you pity me? Go on..."
Edward quickly realised where this conversation was going.
"Sigh... you can't eat or sleep at all. You can't feel as I can feel, you can't drink, you can't function as I function, your movement is impared, and you have to deal with a whole host of psychological issues that arises from your predicament. Oh, and you have to live knowing that you are an empty suit of armour, and those around you may fear what you have become."
Rebecca laughed, and Edward realised all too well what she was trying to do. And with civillian lives on the line, he had no choice but to go along.
"Very, very correct. Although it may interest you to know that having a soul transferred to any artificial being is the most excruciating and painful thing that anyone can undergo, and is traumatic enough to eliminate entire memories from shock alone. I can't even remember who I killed, not to mention that such a transfer also severely damages one's mental and physical condition, and it works in reverse, so insanities are not common, but a given, and anything touching my body feels... disgusting. How does that sound, huh?"
Edward spotted the little challange, and Edward realised that Alphonse had underwent this at least twice, and maybe even more from the continuous and random blackouts. With the mental age of a ten year old, to boot. Suddenly, all the times Alphonse was uncertain of what he was made a little more sense, given that his mental condition would most certainly change. And he remembered that Alphonse had seemed to slip occasionally, and angered a lot more easier then he had then when he was in the armour, and seemed to be stating that he had a subverted phantom limb syndrome... he would sometimes believe that he was in the armour again. Why did he have to suffer so much physically via malnutrition and mentally, while Edward got off with a missing leg easily replaced by automail?
Though he was not religious, Edward was certain that some omnipitent being was determined to fuck up his brother's life. And if he died and met that, he would punch the everloving crap out of it as he had to Father, this time without Greed turning it to charcoal.
Still, his mind wavered back to the topic at hand.
"So... go on... how do you know all this? Trust me, I know, and if I reveal it, I will make the story an awful lot worse. You know, Joshua, you pick bad friends. Try to pick someone who doesn't have such a idiotic life."
Edward realised what she meant. She had him by his bollocks, figuratively, of course. She still had him, though.
Joshua was a little bewildered, while Isosceles seemed to guess what would occur next and only waited for his response to confirm It. Rather worryingly, he seemed to be going one step further.
"Right... you got me. My younger brother was exactly like you, Rebecca. Still, I sacrificed my alchemy to get him his body back."
Rebecca laughed, finally finding what she was looking for.
"Ha ha... your brother is a murderer as well, is he not?"
"What! No! Its my fault that he was like that! And me and him never murdered, ever!"
This actually caught Rebecca off guard. He had just denied her theory. Still, she was intregued.
"So... what did you do? Remember, people's lives are potentially at stake."
And he was cornered, the evidence was in front of him, the jury had decided his position, and the judge his fate. He could only plead guilty. And plead guilty he did.
"I-I commited human transmutaion."
...
Now, under Amestrian circumstances, a large collective response of audiable gasps would fill the room. Instead, Edward got a "huh?" And a look of bewilderment and confusion from Joshua, a evil laugh from Rebecca, and the deductive mind of Isosceles failing to reach a logical conclusion.
"Uh, Edward... care to explain what that is?"
Suddenly Isosceles spoke up.
"You never would have heard of it. Only one copy is here, in my palace, and most certainly not under it. No, nobody ever has, and ever will, open that room. Everyone knows fully well that it is a trap for the greedy. Honestly, there is evidence. All the prophecies say it is a trap.
"Is that suspiciously specific denial?"
"No actually. We found the trap mechanisms and disarmed them. To tell the truth, someone did enter after it was disarmed and found nothing. Its a tourist attraction now. Anyway, human transmutation. Is this illegal in Amestris?"
"Yes" said Edward and Rebecca collectively.
"Oh? Its not illegal here, but the only copy is in the palace. We do not teach it, for we fear that the rearrangement of cells might kill someone. Yes, human transmutation is the rearrangement of cells, and also molecular biology. Nothing too bad, but it is only used for military purposes. And it has never been used yet. Still, why this is a crime, I can understand. It can rearrange a human enough to kill him, and cannot be controlled. Still, I cannot picture why you would do that to your brother, rearrange his body, when you returned it anyway." Replied Isosceles.
Edward realised with fear just how wrong they were. Oh goodness, how more wrong they could be.
Well, they were right, to an extent. Just not as informed.
"Okay... okay... I see you are not as well informed. Now, you might not believe me, but Rebecca might back me up. Basically, it is a alchemic taboo in Amestris. People like me and my brother think, in our childhood naivety, that it can bring back the dead. And no, even with the right ingredients, it can't. It just creates a pile of living organs that lives for three seconds. Its not even the right person, for that matter."
"Well... seems pretty normal to me. Just a failed body." Inputted Joseph.
"Wait, I'm not finished yet. This is where it gets weird. You see, the reaction is not the only one. There is a second reaction that occurs, one which... involves you. What makes this a taboo is that... you pass through the gate... basically all of the alchemic knowledge in the world. You get this knowledge, and you get to learn how to transmute without even using a circle... but you know the law of equivelent exchange?"
"The basis of all alchemy, based upon the conservation of energy."
"Yes, well... the gate does that with various body bits. Its completely random and has no preset conditions. I can also tell you that equivelent exchange is bullshit... I got this knowledge and lost my left leg... fake, see?" Said Edward, exposing his left leg for all to see."
"Automail" said the actually rather observative Rebecca.
"Correct. It's basically mechanical limbs."
Joshua pumped his fist.
"Score one for the world over Angloterran technology!"
"Sorry Joshua. I can safely say that the Angloterran military has significantly better technology from Amestris. Briggs had a secret weapon called a tank, but Angloterra seems to mass produce even better tanks. Anyway, its bullshit because my brother lost his entire body for the same information. I sacrificed my arm to take his soul back."
"Are you sure equivelent exchange is bullshit?" Inquired Joshua. "I mean, for all you know, he could have gotten something even more. Maybe he can do Alkahestry without a circle? I mean, both are involved in Xerxean alchemy."
"You know, I never thought of that. Still, the point remains. The real reaction is knowledge for body parts. That is why it is illegal."
Isosceles was quiet, his head In his hands as he processed the informtion that had just been given to him. Finally, after what seemed an age, he spoke up.
"To be honest, one of the backup plans was to use this circle to destroy the Angloterran soldiers. I did not agree, but the circle outline was created via a trench. However, public opinion found the risk to be greater than the benefits, and so I ordered it to be shut down. I never wanted to have to do it... but now, I think that whoever would have to activate the reaction made a very lucky escape. But enough about the past! In the present, we still need the names of the mercenaries."
And on that quote, Rebecca smiled, or at least thought of doing so. Her opportunity had finally arrived.
"Say... you have done a lot... your utter failiure of logic amuses me, Edward Elric. Now, you know that I will die tomorrow, and I ask, not as a trade, but as a request, to at least return my head to the camp. I have little use with no body. Just throw it from the walls... someone will pick me up, so that I can die amongst those who respect me..."
"Very well." Said Isosceles, before any other could react. "But be warned, if you are tricking us, we may have to kill next time, and it will be easy, now that we know how to defeat you. I do this, although I know it is stupid, because it is the right thing to do."
Rebecca acknowledged this, and then turned to Isosceles.
"Okay, big good, I shall make a trade. I shall inform you who my fellow mercenaries are, on one condition."
"And what is that?" Asked Joshua, finally having some input into the conversation.
For once, Rebecca was glad that she was a suit of armour, for Edward would be unable to notice her glare or her smirk at him. Wow, idealsts were such fool's.
"I hate my fellow mercenaries. Given how Sing died, I would like a shoot on sight policy to be given out. Honestly, it is the best for your town."
"No deal, Rebecca. I will not sign a man's death warrent if another way Is possible."
However, Isosceles was quickly confronted by Joshua.
"Sir, I also oppose, but I fear that without this, we may lose innocent lives. I do not condone this action, but do not condemn it either."
Isosceles turned to Edward.
"Any suggestions?"
"All I have to say is that killing is wrong."
Isosceles came to a brief conclusion.
"So, it is the path of darkness or the path of destruction... but I come to a third option. Rebecca, would you be willing to allow "do not approach, contact a rebel officer immediately?"
"Would that kill them?"
"Only if they resist, much like our current orders."
Rebecca did not like this circumstance, but realised that tonight would be a long night if she did not accept some form of deal.
"Very well" she said. "I accept your deal. Now then, do you have my knife with me?"
Joshua nodded.
"It is at the police station."
"Good. In the handle, just fimble around a bit, is the names and details of all of the mercenaries. That contains your details."
"Then it is settled. I hope that my annoying comrades are finished off soon. I cannot bear them." Concluded Isosceles, glad that no more torture would arise, and they had obtained what they wanted.
But she was laughing inside. How easy it was to fool idealists. The rebels had helped her, the mercenaries would help her, and a lot more fights would arise. And then she could claim a healthy profit from all the killing, claiming kills by her soon to be deceased peers as her own. She thought to herself how much of a manipulative bitch she was.
