Edited chapter 9 (08/2012)


Things had been going well thus far as the progress reports currently being given were showing positive results.

Protests had actually decreased by about 30 percent throughout the city in the past few months. That meant it was possible to decrease the number of soldiers on watch duty and transfer them to other efforts around the city

The reconstruction efforts were also moving ahead nicely. 50 percent of the West district was rebuilt, 35 in the Eastern district, 20 in the south, and 65 in the north. While those numbers might seem small to most after three years, Roy saw it for the great accomplishment it was.

Due to the number of military losses after the revolution, the alchemist had only been commissioned 600 soldiers to handle every effort currently taking place in Ishval, and only about a third of those were on rubble clearing or reconstruction duty at a time, the rest being either on watch duty, some other military task, or off shift.

And still, about 42 percent of the city as a whole was rebuilt. Yes, Roy was very pleased.

"The trade route is still functioning properly and is even improving every day. At this rate, Ishval should be able to move more exports out of the city, allowing them to bring in more imports on their own." Lt. Colonel Krause, a few years older than Roy and currently head of the sub-division in charge of the trade route, informed the group of assembled officers, drawing the alchemists thoughts back to the meeting at hand.

His choice of words didn't surprise the Brigadier General, as Krause had come to him on a number of occasions with concerns over the continued donations being set up for the Ishvalan people. The man felt that Ishval wasn't the only region in Amestris suffering. After the revolution, Central had been hit hard, along with many other military heavy cities, and he felt the military was overcompensating for the past sins committed in Ishval, leaving Central to suffer for it.

"That is good to hear. But, until such a time that the economy here can sustain itself completely, donations will continue to be held." Roy answered the Lieutenant Colonel's unasked question, his tone casual as though noting on what he'd had for breakfast.

This was not met very kindly.

"So, you are proposing that, in order to appease yourself of the guilt over your past sins, we should continue to ignore the needs of Central?" the soldier asked contritely.

The room became very still, and Roy could almost feel the spike in anger from behind him as if it were something physical. It caused a slight prickling of the hairs on his neck, a sort of sixth sense in this case for what was coming.

He had been on the receiving end enough times to gain that particular talent.

Turning in his rotating chair, Roy held up a hand to his faithful Captain as she took a menacing step forward, still silent as she glared towards the older officer. At the Brigadier General's gesture, she stopped. Riza's lips, which had parted slightly to reprimand the Lt. Colonel—even if formally as he was still a higher ranking officer—met in a tight-lipped frown.

"It's alright, Captain." Roy assured her, knowing she hadn't taken the insult directed at him at all lightly. After a short pause, the blonde woman nodded, stepping back to her previous board-stiff posture that was drilled into every soldier at a young age.

Roy turned back to the table of officers, noting none looked surprised or even disagreeable to her reaction. After all, none of them had taken the comment lightly either.

Krause quickly found that the room he was in had become much less cordial. He should have known that mentions of the war could bring hazardous results in some cases, even when dealing with strictly mannered, high ranking military soldiers. Most of the soldiers who had been involved in the rebellion were ashamed over the things they themselves had done while in the deserts of Ishval. Those who showed no signs of remorse were not allowed to reenter the region for the fear that another civil war could break out.

As it was, Lieutenant Colonel Krause was the only one in the room who had not been involved in that particularly bloody patch of Amestris's history. He had been stationed in West City at the time, mostly involved with issues surrounding Creta. He didn't have any of the horror stories every other officer in the room could regale him with in alarming and disturbing recollected detail.

"No. That is not what I am proposing." Roy said coolly, keeping his anger well hidden as all higher ranked officers were expected to do. "I am simply suggesting that, while our beloved Central is being watched over by thousands of soldiers," he emphasized 'thousands' here to stress the disadvantage placed on those in Ishval, "the citizens of the rest of Amestris should feel free to offer any assistance they feel necessary to this region, which is rebuilding itself nearly from scratch after losing most of its people. I am not suggesting that we extortion it from them or use any other form of intimidation to gain the donations. That which is freely given shall be accepted graciously."

Completely silent now, Krause settled back into his chair, every pair of eyes in the room following this movement with less than friendly accusation. Were they not soldiers, Roy might have expected a small riot to break out over the man's previous comment. Krause would be speaking no more for the remainder of the meeting, something that would not be looked on with any lack of apathy.

Content at this reaction, Roy fought the urge to smirk before addressing the rest of the room once more. His tone came across as much more pleasant now, something that everyone in the room noticed.

"Now then, how have the violence rates been?" he asked, moving on to the next topic on the agenda.


It was a toss up, really.

If manual labor and paperwork were both thrown into a ring together to battle it out over which held more of Roy's loathing, they would both come out, battered, bruised, maybe dying, and none the wiser as to which had won.

But, it was actually he himself who had installed the rule that every member of the military in Ishval would be required to take part in clearing some of the destruction—assuming they didn't have any health issues that made that task too dangerous. Given that most of them had participated in making it that way, Roy had deemed it only just that they do so. While their shifts weren't as common as those of other officers since they had other duties to attend to, the higher ups did still have to participate.

With an exhausted sigh, Roy sat the head of his sledge hammer on the ground, plopped down on a large chunk of rubble he had yet to clear, and rested his wrists and forehead on the handle of the hammer.

Why did it always have to be so hot in the desert?

The ground under his feet seemed to absorb everything the sun gave off, excruciatingly cooking the bottoms of his feet through his thick military boots. Probably didn't help that the boots were black, though.

He'd been out there for hours so far, doing his part in helping to clear the rubble of one of the demolished residential buildings in the Western district so a new one could be constructed in its place.

Roy wasn't there alone, though. A number of military personnel, his faithful Captain included, were spread throughout the area, trying to clear as much rubble as fast as possible. The sooner they fulfilled the day's pound requirement, they could go back to their temporary military headquarters. While it wasn't the nicest of establishments, it did offer shade.

Hayate was again no where in sight, but that wasn't abnormal. He was usually staying at headquarters. Riza said it wasn't healthy for him to be in the blazing heat for long, given the color of a good portion of his fur, as he could overheat easily. Though, when Roy had tried this tactic with her, complaining about how hot his head got, he had been immediately shot down.

His gaze trailed over to the area he'd previously been working, and spotting his faithful Captain's blonde hair was a rather simple task amongst the dark haired men around her. Roy watched as she went after a large piece of rubble with a pickaxe to break it into more manageable pieces, striking with the same astounding and deadly accuracy she would have with one of her firearms. Discreetly, the alchemist shamelessly allowed his eyes to trail up her slim, athletic build for a moment.

Okay, so maybe manual labor wasn't all that bad.

"General Mustang." came a voice, and said General snapped his attention away from his subordinate to see it was one of the few Ishvalan volunteers willing to work alongside the military troops. He gave the young man his full attention.

"We're ready to bring down the eastern wall."

Turning in the other direction, Roy saw this was true. All debris had been cleared out of the way, and the upper floors had very little left to them. Good, this would leave only one more wall to this building. They could probably bring down both before the day was out if they all worked hard enough.

"Okay. Make sure the street is still clear before we take it down." Roy said to the young volunteer.

The Ishvalan nodded, and, as he ran off to do so, someone sat down beside Roy, and he turned to see it was none other than Riza, unscrewing the lid of her water canteen. He had finished his some time ago, leaving him watching the container with the same dedication Hayate would when begging for food, his mouth feeling suddenly dryer than it had seemed a few seconds previous. He swallowed, noting he should really learn to pay attention to his water intake. He wouldn't make it across the desert to Xing, should he ever have the inclination. That was for sure.

His thoughts were again interrupted when Riza, instead of taking a drink herself, extended the canteen to him.

"Drink some water, sir."

She didn't have to tell him twice.

Accepting the offered canteen, noting that she had somehow managed to get by drinking less than half, he downed a mouthful, relishing as the liquid, though warm, ran down his scratchy throat.

"Ah, thanks." he said graciously, handing the water back as he wiped a stray droplet of water from his chin with the back of his hand. Riza had her elbow resting tiredly on her knee, her head placed in her palm and turned to look at him.

"You should really learn to conserve your water, sir." she said matter-of-factly, though Roy was sure she would have been wearing an amused smirk were they not on the job and she weren't so obviously bushed.

"Is it my fault it's so delectably delicious?" he asked dramatically. She quirked an eyebrow at him as she took a small sip from the canteen before closing it and setting it on the ground next to her foot.

All she said was, "Those are synonyms, sir."

How could she handle it? His military jacket and shirt having been discarded long ago, Roy, the Flame Alchemist, was still roasting. While her jacket had been removed, the blonde woman was wearing her customary black turtleneck. Yes, he knew why she wore black, but still. How could she get by drinking so little water?

"Do you have a Philosopher's Stone I don't know about?" His eyes narrowed suspiciously, and Riza turned to give him a questioning look. "There's no way you've only emptied half of that canteen." This time a smile almost tugged the corners of her mouth upward.

"Just the one, sir." she replied plainly, Roy's gaze falling to the nearly nonexistent bulge at the collar bone of her turtleneck where he knew said stone to be. "But, I can't make water, sir. I'm fairly certain one has to be filled with hot air to do that."

This time, the corners of her mouth did turn up.

"Hey, I'm not full of hot air!" the alchemist protested with a laugh, pushing her shoulder jokingly. He pushed her a little too hard, though, because she slid right off of the rubble they were seated on. Roy quickly caught her arm to stop her from hitting the ground just as she braced herself with the palm of her other hand.

"Uh, sorry." he apologized lamely as Riza regained her balance and seated herself once more.

"You should control yourself better, sir." she scolded lightly. Her usual stern glare she gave him when he did something wrong was lessened out of fatigue from clearing rubble. Roy grinned sheepishly.

A sudden tug at his knee drew his attention from his Captain, though, and he turned. The Ishvalan he'd sent off before was standing their, but not close enough to be the one responsible for the tugging. Lowering his gaze revealed a little Ishvalan girl, barely as tall as the knee whose pant leg she was lightly pulling on to gain his attention.

Roy had never really been one to describe anything as 'cute', but, looking at the two-foot tall girl who was likely the same age as her height in feet who looked up at him with large, red eyes in a way he could have sworn she had learned from Hayate, he could think of no other way to describe the small child. He also noticed that a small, folded piece of cloth was held between one of her tiny hands. The colors were a little off, so it probably didn't belong to what she was wearing. The cloth was just off-white while her robe, long enough to touch the ground and conceal her feet, was a light tan common to the region.

"I'm sorry, she insisted on seeing you." said the young volunteer who had escorted the small girl.

"It's alright." Roy assured him, turning his attention back to the tiny child.

"Are you Mister General Mustang?" the small girl asked, her timid voice almost too quiet to hear. Roy's new title admittedly amused him a little. He was both a 'Mister' and a 'General' simultaneously. While one was civilian and one was military, he didn't expect such a young girl to understand the difference yet. The innocence made the corners of his mouth quirk upward lightly.

"Yes, I am." he answered with a chuckle, and he then motioned to the blonde woman sitting next to him. "And, this is my faithful subordinate, Miss Captain Hawkeye." he introduced in a similar manner so as to not confuse the girl's current understanding of military officers. "What's your name?"

The little girl shuffled a little in a nervous, bashful manner at this, and Roy could have sworn he noticed Riza fight a smile out of the corner of his eye. He himself was combating the urge to gush over the oddly adorable movement(He was a man! He didn't do things like that! Hughes had been the only exception to that rule!).

"Kara." she answered just as timidly as before and then held out her hands, extending the folded piece of cloth to him. "Me an' my Mama made you something."

Surprised, Roy blinked.

A gift? For him?

Undeniably intrigued, the alchemist accepted the cloth, taking it from her tiny hands with a thank you. The cloth was some sort of silk, very soft to the touch, and he gently unfolded it.

His eyes widened a little at what he saw, his Captain leaning over to look as well and having a similar reaction—though lessened, as was normally the case with her.

The cloth was actually an embroidered handkerchief, but the detail and effort put into it was like nothing found in East City, Central, or any other place the Brigadier General had ever been to. The golden flower embroidered into the cloth was more detailed than any he had seen, an innumerable number of different shades and hues of yellow blended together such that it almost looked like the flower actually glowed. Even the golden floral vines along two of the corners opposite to one another held the same feature, and Roy could honestly say he had never seen anything like it before.

He looked up to where the girl had just been, intending to thank her again, only to find she was gone. Surprised, he looked around and saw she was being escorted back to an Ishvalan woman a short distance away from the area the officers were clearing rubble from. The woman, noticing him looking in their direction, smiled and bowed her head.

Roy could only return the gesture as the pair walked away, surprised to receive such a gift from people he had thought hated him.

"It's beautiful." Riza, silent up to that point, said in subtle awe, and he turned to see she was still leaning over to look at the handkerchief. Nodding in agreement, he handed it to her, so she could look at it better. She accepted, her slender fingers gently taking the cloth.

Looking at the delicately detailed flower once more, Roy realized what it was. It was the hierinculta, a rare flower found in the deserts between Xing and Amestris. It grew in shaded areas, mostly caves, and a person would be lucky to find even one. Upon closer inspection, however, Roy noticed there were words hidden in the vines at the corners.

A rare blessing.

This short statement surprised him even further. For two, or even one, of the Ishvalan people to think him any kind of blessing. . .

He must have been doing something right.


Eight hours. That was the average shift both the General, and thus his faithful adjutant, had off on any given day of the week. It wasn't that the alchemist was forced to put that much time in by some regulation or another. He wanted to put in the time.

Many papers came through their office in Ishval on a daily basis, and it was as though working in that place, the place where so many wrongs had been committed, had ignited a spark of devotion for things he had been lazy with previously. The main item on the list was, in fact, the paperwork.

Nowadays, he never slacked. He got right to work every day, reading the reports, correcting them, and signing them when finished. Of course, these actions commonly came with complaints over hand cramps and jumbled words on the page after reading so many. But, he got the work done. As it was, Roy and his Captain were going through roughly the same amount of paperwork daily that the whole team had before—the others didn't often do paperwork as they were commonly off on some other task as was needed by the lack of soldiers in Ishval.

Currently off duty, Riza had just finished the task of buying the necessary foods to stock her quarters, using the first hour of her eight off to do so. After stopping by three vendor stalls, she had bought two loaves of bread, a little meat, and a few native fruits and vegetables. All of the items were stored in a small box she brought with her when it came day to shop for food. The task now complete, she headed off towards the military quarters.

It would be nice to just lay down and sleep.

Riza had never been a large fan of crowds, mostly because they would make her job as a bodyguard that much more complicated, but the busy streets of Ishval never really bothered her when off duty. The people weren't as prone to arguing with one another as they would be in the rest of Amestris, save for small towns such as Resembool. Compared to before, the Ishvalans seemed happier to a fault, and every pair of eyes no longer followed her down the street like they used to.

As she made her way down another street, Riza's muscles strained as she walked, a knot in her lower back suddenly tightening painfully. With a barely noticeable grimace, she stepped to the side of the street to rest against the wall, a hand pressed to the twisted muscles in an effort to ease the pain.

It wasn't the first time something like this had happened, large knots in her back that would make walking difficult, and she knew it wouldn't be the last, a memento of too much work. But, during work hours she would ignore it just like she had all the others. It was possible the General didn't even know of them, though he likely had a few of his own.

After a moment, the knot subsided, and Riza breathed a little freer, allowing her hand to drop back to her side. Loosing a barely audible sigh, she pushed from the wall and continued on, small box of food in hand.

Hard to believe the week was only half over. There was still quite a bit of work to get through in the next two days before she, the General, and Hayate would return to East City.

As she continued to make her way to the military barracks, the Captain's ever rapt attention was quickly drawn to the street ahead.

A foreigner. If she had to guess, the man looked to be from Aerugo based on his dark brown hair and the fact that his skin tone was somewhere between her own and that of an Ishvalan. Foreigners weren't necessarily uncommon, but he carried himself like a soldier and wore shaded lenses to cover his eyes. He was speaking with a few Ishvalans on the side of the street, seemingly interested in what they had to say as they described something to him. Perhaps he was just a tourist, but Riza could have sworn she had seen the man before. Though his eyes were hidden behind his shades, the astute military Captain never forgot a face.

She had definitely seen him somewhere. . .

Riza had been so focused on the foreigner, that she nearly missed the glint of light as she passed an alley.

Backtracking quickly, she looked inside. Her instincts had served her well once more, as, at the end of the alley, hiding behind some crates, was a young Ishvalan man. In his hands was the source of the glint.

A large knife.

He looked uncertain as he observed the weapon in his hands, and, when a soldier, off duty like her, passed by the alley's opening across from Riza, his gaze shifted out of the alley. His hand gripped the knife a little tighter.

This didn't look good.

Entering the alley, Riza silently moved through, keeping to the shadows flawlessly as she had learned many years ago. The Ishvalan was none the wiser that he was currently being watched, let alone approached. No one ever really knew she was there unless she wanted them to—though there were a few exceptions, as with any rule. Once she was about five yards away from him, the blonde woman silently bent down to place the small box of food on the ground and then took another step forward.

When she quietly cleared her throat, the young man spun around to face her, and Riza was given a clear sight of the state he was in. His clothes were tattered and stained with sweat and sand, and his unbathed face was far too gaunt. He clearly hadn't eaten in days. This was only proven more so when his unarmed hand clutched the fabric of his worn clothing over his stomach, and it was a fact that made what he was considering a little more understandable.

Hunger could make one do things they wouldn't even consider under normal circumstances.

"Stay back!" the young Ishvalan demanded as he pointed the knife at her threateningly, haggard face contorted in a rage the military Captain had encountered frequently in the past three years.

Fortunately, dealing with rage wasn't an issue for her. It hadn't been since the early years of her life.

"I'm not here to cause trouble for you." Riza said coolly, hands raised in a placatory manner. The young man clearly didn't believe her, but she talked on anyway. "I know what you plan to do, and I can tell you that it will not solve any of your problems."

The young man's pupils constricted noticeably at this, a sign of his obvious fury.

"How dare you!" the young man spat. "You dare tell me what I should or shouldn't do? I was just a boy when my family was murdered by your people! Yet, while I've been starving in the slums, your people worry over frivolous things like shade and plumbing!"

Riza's eyes narrowed a fraction in what almost none would recognize as of pity and regret. After all, it was very possible that she had been the one to take at least some of his family from him. But, as it was, neither of them would ever know.

The knots in her back gave a vengeful twist.

"I'm sorry for your loss," Riza said, her tone laced with honest sincerity as she breathed through the pain. "Though, I'm sure it means little to hear that, especially from someone like me. But, this isn't the answer." She motioned to the knife in his hands. He glanced at said weapon before quickly returning his gaze to the soldier before him.

"Thievery will not solve your problems. It is liable to only make them worse."

"How do you know? I can't even find work! How am I supposed to feed myself?" the young man demanded frantically, his free hand once again moving to clutch the fabric over his stomach.

"I understand, but there are always other options." Riza informed him, hands still raised to placate him. "Have you asked anyone you know for help?"

At this, the young man actually seemed hesitant, the knife lowering slightly in his hand.

"...T-they have enough problems without having to worry about mine." he said after a short pause, and the Captain's gaze turned downward as she pondered something.

After a few short seconds, she turned, confusing the young man slightly, and knelt down to reach inside her small box of food. Removing one of the two loaves of bread, she stood and held it out to him.

He looked almost as shocked as she had felt the night she had discovered Salem Bradley was actually a Homunculus.

Riza said nothing as she waited for him to react. She simply stood there with the bread extended to him, her free hand still raised to show she was still unarmed. After a few moments, the young man shifted forward cautiously. When she made no move, he cautiously took the offered loaf from her hand, stepping back immediately afterward as if he still expected her to attack him.

Watching her closely for a moment, he then turned his gaze to the bread, turning it over in his hand as though looking for signs of tampering. He found none, obviously, and his once again confused gaze turned to the blonde woman before him.

"Sometimes, all you need to do is ask." the military Captain supplied shortly, extending her hand once more, and he observed it just as cautiously as the bread. "Hand me the knife." she said, the order less strict than it would have been when speaking to another soldier.

He was hungry, that was all. No need to treat him like a bank robber or a murderer. The young man hesitated, his ruby gaze moving from her, to the knife, the bread, and then back to her.

Finally, he complied, turning the blade so the handle was toward her and placing the weapon in her outstretched appendage. Still using careful movements so as to not alarm him, Riza drew the knife back and slid it through the left side of her belt. Instantly, the young man's attention understandably moved to the bread in his hand as he tore off a piece and quickly shoved it in his mouth.

"If you're looking for work," the Captain began as she turned, and he looked up at her mid-chew, "the military is looking for volunteers for reconstruction. They would be able to pay you a little for your efforts should you choose to accept." she informed him as she bent over and picked up the small box of food once more. With that, she left the alley the way she had come, even more tired than when she had arrived.

It had already been a very long week.