In Exchange For A Miracle

by CrafterofTales

In the land of Amestris; conspiracy, corruption, and a war in secret stirs within the vicinity of Alchemists and Magi. A Ruler-class Servant comes as the mediator of the war for the Holy Grail, and her meeting with the Fullmetal Alchemist defines the fates that theirs, and others, have intertwined.

15. Beginning of their Grand Journey

A/N: Hello readers! I just wish to take this time to respond to the reviews before I may end up forgetting to answer some of them. Let's begin!

nicocordoba95: I'll be responding to this review in English. Basically, this reviewer wishes for there to be cute moments of Edward and Jeanne taking care of the new homunculus Paracelsus has made as if they're the parents. It's an adorable idea but the homunculus will be maturing rather quickly, she'll be an ally than she would be as a child. Now I wish to answer this question in the same language as the reviewer, so hopefully, Google Translate does not fail me...

Es una idea adorable, pero el homúnculo madurará bastante rápido, será una aliada de lo que sería de niña. Puede que no suceda, pero me encanta tu idea de todos modos.

Guest: From what I understood and remember watching, Masters are chosen and are given Command Seals before the actual summoning happens, then later they would receive their Servants by performing the summoning, it's basically to show that the Magus is invited to enter the war because the Grail saw it worthy/has an interest in the Magus. However, the Command Seals could also appear when the Magus performs the summoning and thus earning them the "ticket" (Command Seals) into entering the Holy Grail War along with the Servant.

DemonRaily: By lying or otherwise, did I actually overlook an important key factor in the Holy Grail's construction? Because I'll say this, I completely forgot the fact that the Grail is made through the leylines which are where the enormous amount of prana energy, and thus, I forgot to have Jeanne mention this, or at the very least, I could have Jeanne purposefully avoid telling the Elric brothers this because they weren't absolutely aligned to her as members of her new faction.

By now, however, as they are now officially part of Jeanne's group, she will now properly disclose this information to them, but because of the strange circumstances of the Holy Grail War in Amestris, Jeanne is prevented from understanding how the Grail was exactly made step by step. She knows a few of the ingredients, but not the process. This is likely due to a certain... event that transpired in the previous Grail War that happened in Amestrist; the fourth Grail War to be exact. But that shall be kept quiet at this time!

Paracelsus would have no trouble knowing, however, in fact, since he knows a certain individual who has a part in constructing the Holy Grail, Paracelsus will not only help the brothers understand how the Grail is made, he may even help in their efforts to recreate it without the need of using Human souls.

However, since Paracelsus himself has only heard from the certain individual's (It's Zouken Matou, but younger and not monstrous) accounts of how the Grail is made - and even then, it's probably just a summary and not in great depth like the Einzberns would know, he and the Elric brothers may suffer trial and errors with theorized creations while also have Paracelsus introduce his own forged Philosopher's Stones that may pave the way into recreating the Holy Grail, but of course, even if they would have the base, they would not make a complete replica of the Holy Grail that exists currently and what all the Servants of this war are fighting for, so they would indeed have to look for the Holy Grail of this war and examine it closely.

Plus, it's as you said, this Grail in Amestris could, in fact, be very different from the Fate Universe! But we shall see...

Amatsumi: I remember watching FMA: Brotherhood, and there was an episode that happened kind of long after Riza figured out the truth about Bradley's "son," she was later shown with a superior officer who revealed to her the military's secret "army of homunculus" hiding underneath their base in Central.

It was then mentioned that Amestris has banned Homunculus creation, with the actual reason being that the military did not want any competitors or potential threats of those who could successfully create artificial soldiers, and be used to counter their army of homunculus and by extension - be used against Father.

I would probably think that the military may even go so far as making it a "death sentence" for anyone who did home-made homunculus creation so to erase anyone with the potential to deviate or disturb Father's plans, but it may not go that far since Father would probably see these sort of Alchemists as useful pawns, but they will have to be discreetly taken away from the public, and have them on his side rather than anyone else's.

KombaiHound: I am utterly bummed that I did not make a Kintoki joke at the mention of "Golden." ...Ah well, live and learn. I actually considered adding in Kintoki as Jeanne's own personal Servant because... why not? Or rather, because it's the "GOLDEN Faction!" But that would be too many characters I have to keep track of so...sorry Kintoki, you won't be in this fic, even though it would be so fitting because of the name of the new faction.

13thRebels: Eventually, these following Fullmetal Alchemist characters will have Servants, who those Servants are I shall keep it a secret until the eventual reveal comes. There's also a great chance of them becoming new members of the Golden Faction, for now, it shall be a small group, and there may be more who will join them later on... As for the parallel versions for the Fate characters, not all of them may end up joining the Golden Faction, but the chance that we will see them...wait and see...

king cool 12: I'm actually not that familiar with Solomon. I've only looked him up on TV tropes. While it certainly sounds interesting, I feel that Solomon's nature as a "chicken" (haha.) led me to believe that he would want to look away from the tragedies of the Elric brothers, and Edward may not get along so well with Solomon as with Paracelsus and Nikola. Plus, it would be too OP.

Joe: Well, here I am! Hope you haven't done that already. I'm so sorry for the long wait! I've been trying to post another chapter of mine and with my college life going on, it's been a real doozy. But I want to continue this story just as much as everyone wants to read what happens next! So here we are!

And there! End of responding to a few of the reviews! Now, on with the story! Please leave a kind and honest critique! God bless!

---

Chapter 15: Beginning of their Grand Journey

She was the silent witness. Born into this world only a few moments ago, a fresh canvas in both mind and conscience as she watches the exchange between her creator, a man, and the boys she had only met briefly. It was evident that she was the subject of their conversation, with how the boy of golden hair gestured her way more than once. She was able to understand this much even after just coming to existence - such is the intelligence of a homunculus, though she still has much to learn, and her body was still in development.

The world was oddly blurry, and the instrument within her throat that was supposed to produce sounds, introducing her to the capability of speech, has yet to mature. But all other senses were functioning accordingly; the immediate comprehension of feeling water and the fuzzy material of the towel, the sound of the soft echo from the armored being when he spoke to her, along with the much firmer voice from the golden-eyed boy. Comparing the two, she found herself preferring the armored one, wondering if she too would make such a sound that was as gentle as it was to hear, a tone that matches her creator - despite the panic he and the shorter boy for some reason had. She felt her first feeling of confusion at their agitation and thought that an appropriate response was in order. If only she could speak, if only she knew the meaning of speech, and if only she could understand what had been done wrong so that she may correct it.

Her purpose, after all, was to assist. Therefore, she must perform her duties to the utmost, and lighten the burden of her creator. She realizes this the instant she came into consciousness and accepted it all in one breath. A tool made to be of use, and follow orders whenever needed. Therefore, it was a natural reaction for her to fulfill her tasks without fault. There was no question to this, she was fresh clay without the molding of personal ambition or a rebelling spirit. Such things were unknown to her.

She knew at once who her creator was, like an infant recognizing the scent of its mother. She was greeted with "warm kindness" and "gentle attitude," yet at the same time, she also met with "excitement" and "intensity" emitting from the boys who were physically fumbling with such energy at whatever distressed them.

What a loud place.

She understood this before she knew how to put it into words. A mere feeling, even her capability of thought is imperfect. Simply feeling and comprehending, instead of thinking as if she is speaking in her own mind. A picture without the description.

After her creator placed the man and woman in uniforms under a spell, she obediently followed the man name Archer out of the bathroom, hearing the demand for clothing from the shorter boy. Entering another room with a bed and a window, he offered her something to guise her pale body without the need for the towel. A simple white shirt and baggy pants that carry a noticeable smell to it, someone else had worn these.

The homunculus did not bat an eye when the Archer departed into a mist for her to dress in private, a mere occurrence she took in stride as if it were natural, and began to put on the shirt and pants. Though she had mistakenly placed the arm through where the head should have gone through, she learned and wore the simple attire. Whoever they belong to are now hers for the time being. She mentally asserts herself to take good care of it.

She waited then, as instructed by her creator, until the people in uniforms left, and awaits for further orders. She sat there at the edge of the bed for however long. She did not count the minutes, she simply waited not like that of a patient girl, but of someone with no capacity to know impatience. She hears the leaving footsteps, and the front door of the living room closing. Some noises followed after, rearrangements and movements of objects and other items from the room next to her. So distinct were these sounds that she looked over at the sound of voices and noticed the door to be thinly open.

She stood up to correct this, but as she approached, she heard the voices from the boys.

"A homunculus... A freakin' homunculus! How the hell could we have one here?!"

"I know br...Ed. I'm still trying to wrap my head around it. You really don't need to keep saying it out loud."

A slow adjustment to the words being said, an eased sensation in the mind of the homunculus that dissected the meaning in their statements. So they had an issue with her after all, she cannot fathom why, or what she had done wrong. If she is to be a servant for others, she must know how to improve. Empty as she was without personality or human emotions, a likeliness of resolve birthed in her heart.

She continued to listen. Her orders were to keep herself hidden until those people have left, all there is left is to wait on standby, and see if anyone will call to her. So she shall wait, so she shall listen.

"Dammit... What the hell are we supposed to do with this?! Having one homunculus was already a problem but-AH! It blinked at me!"

"J-just hide it somewhere in the bathroom! AH! It blinked at me too!"

They must be referring to the other homunculus that remains in the jar – her sister, so to speak. Even in the state that the second homunculus is in, there was a strong connection felt to it. Homunculi are essentially created from the same piece, they share a bond that is so highly sensitive, it was to a telepathic degree, that they would even know how the other is feeling from afar, or if one of them has died. Such is the powerful connection of the homunculi made from the same flesh of their creator. Currently, the homunculus in the jar is awaiting without any urgency. Although conscious, she was also a "blank slate," no personality or any else to her.

No will of their own.

She heard hasty movements and then the closing of a door. The boys settled in the living room, and their conversation resumed there. It was then that things had taken a turn, and calm accusations were thrown by the armored person with a gentle voice. They held no meaning to the homunculus, yet the armored being was distressed. The homunculus only sat and listened as the armored being concluded his venting. There was no retort, but fading footsteps and a door opening. The metallic rhythm of armor followed after. She no longer saw either of them, and thought to close the door until she heard a disturbance; a metal being struck by something, and then the angry yell of a girl somewhere outside.

It was so sudden and unexpected, it startled the eavesdropping homunculus, and prompted her to stand up and investigate the commotion. At first, she only approached the door. There was not much to see, but there was more yelling. The stress of a girl's voice, choked by some heaviness in her chest. The homunculus was drawn to the sound as if it was burdening to hear this upsetting sense from someone else; "worry" is what it was. Without thought, she stepped out of the room.

Do not step out until those officers have left, that was her order, but the people in uniforms were already gone, so it would not be considered defiance once the order has been followed to its completion. She stagnantly walked to the other side of the wall, adjusting the use of her feeble legs with every step. It would be necessary for her to practice this continuously, enough to answer any objectives that require mobility.

Reaching the brown-yellow wall, she presses her hands against it and peeks around the corner. She spotted the figure in full-body armor again, he was communicating with another person outside the front door, a girl of sunny-blonde hair, a discomforting frown above her watery eyes.

"What kind of person would willingly trade in their own arm, their own life, for some fake soul?!"

The girl then pointed down the corridor, demanding him to run, and the armored being answered with haste. A brief discussion was exchanged between the girl and another who later came into view, a lighter blonde with pink bangs.

"That big dumb idiot. He just had to go and say all that," the first girl muttered, her hand covering her face.

The second girl offered comfort and looked up to where the armored being ran to. Her brows furrowed with concern, a conflicted consideration danced in her violet-blue eyes.

The first girl noticed the other one's expression, a smile arrived as tears fell to her chin. "You want to go check on them, don't you Jeanne?"

"I... No. I'd rather stay here with you, Winry."

Winry grasped Jeanne's hand that held her in support, "It's okay. Go ahead, I need to take a breather anyway, and... also clean up this mess I made." She looked down at the splattered cake on the floor.

"When you find them, I have a feeling that you'll see them fight. Don't stop them, okay? That's just how they always settle things between them."

Winry assured her a second time when Jeanne hesitated, feelings split between different people who were the center of her worries. Fingers clutching the front of her blouse, she softly whispered. "I'll try not to take too long." Releasing Winry and setting down bagged items, she then walked towards where the armored being went.

The homunculus remained ever so watchful, her soft fingers that were without the existence of fingerprints weakly clutched the corners of the wall as Winry takes the bags into the room. The presence of the homunculus was so quiet, Winry did not notice her at all. Placing the bags over on top of the living room table, she sat down on a couch with a hefty sigh, oblivious to the silent observer behind her. Lingering effects from the stress and sadness the girl has, a dull pink in the white of her eyes, and tear stains glistening in the light on her cheeks that she tries to run away.

The homunculus looked over to a small table, a particular item was there beside the lamp. She moves for it, her bare feet soft as feathers that they were barely audible.

"Honestly... What am I going to do with those idiots?" Winry said, closing her eyes. A faint shuffle emerged closely beside her, causing her to look over.

A tissue box is held out close to her face.

"Oh. Thanks," Winry accepted the given gesture. Taking one tissue from the box, she wiped her cheeks clean of her tears before pausing and looked up to the giver.

The homunculus stood there wordlessly, empty dull bronze eyes staring and gradual blinking, holding up the tissue box without the essence of motion like a statue.

Winry held her gaze, blinking in slow comprehension at the person standing beside her, "Um... Hello. Who are you?"

---

It an unexpected circumstance. The Archer of Electric Ingenuity knew to suspect the unprecedented when he arrived in this world. An intuition like a brisk touch of electromagnetism against the tip of his nose. The expansion of participants in a war beyond worlds and era. The acknowledgment of his Master and another Servant serving under that same Master. The battle between numerous Servants that had the potential to destroy this city. He took it all in stride, composed and in calm evaluations as he acts in swift accordance. Yet even he still found himself intrigued by the surprising turn of events that came with it and after.

First, there was his Master. An Alchemist of this world, one of many others that could bend and manipulate their solid surroundings to their will. His accidental summoning of the two Servants may have saved the boy's life and the rest of the people who were acquainted with him by guarding them throughout the storm. He was a disbeliever to the concept of Servants, despite knowing the Ruler Servant, and was adamant towards the presence of Archer and Caster; displeased to the entirety of the Holy Grail War.

Then there was his brother, Alphonse, a human whose soul possesses a set of armor – an accidental occurrence due to alchemy, so Alphonse has said. A human being trapped in an empty shell, one who has lived in it for so long that he questions if he had ever lived as one.

Archer knew at once that Alphonse was no familiar. No such familiar would have that amount of self-awareness and doubt. A mental crisis such as his would have been considered a malfunction in the brain workings of a familiar or a homunculus. While it could be theorized that familiars would have the development of free will like that of a human being, this was not the case for Alphonse.

He did not have all the information, but he knew intuitively that this is most certainly a human being. He also knew that it would not be enough if he were to outright tell him, after all, how much weight would Archer's words hold if he has been summoned by the very boy Alphonse distrusted?

If Alphonse wanted to find the truth himself, he must brace himself and brave for it. It was impossible to hope for this to be settled smoothly, Archer knew that it would not be so, but what was said was said, and that was all they needed. That was all it took, and he ought to commend that girl earlier for her part as well.

He knew Caster had tried to gently offer this reason, but it was really that girl the Ruler Servant was accompanying with who pushed it into Alphonse's mind. It was indeed the best way, as she knew these boys personally. The brothers then confessed the inner turmoil they have been carrying at individual extensive times, and now they were stronger in their faith with each other, reinforcing their promise to achieve restoration for what they've lost.

What a remarkable display! What an intriguing situation he has found himself in! A fascinating scenario of undoubtful unforeseen challenges with these astute and determined young brothers. He was reminded of his youth. A time when he wanted to discover, to invent, and to conquer the sky itself. It was nothing in common with the goals of these brothers, but the emotion they carry to overcome whatever difficulties that stand in their way resonated soundly in his soul.

Oh yes, he decided, he will take enjoyment in watching over these boys, a supportive witness to their endeavorment in the Holy Grail War, and see how far they fly.

He could do with a more properly mannered Master though. Admittedly, there was a pleasure in aggravating and tempting the golden-eyed boy's temper. Still, he ought to learn behavior fitting of a gentleman. Well, it seems Archer will have to help with that as well.

"My your quite a bundle of energy for someone so little."

His Master froze. Alphonse gasped and the Ruler Servant stiffened.

"Indeed, especially for an Alchemist who has two Servants. I'm sure he must have a nutritious meal every day," Caster agreed quaintly. "A growing boy needs his nourishment to grow after all."

Jeanne cupped both hands over her mouth, Alphonse outstretched his hand for Edward. The older Elric's body slowly trembled as Caster obliviously added, "Though if I'm correct, you haven't eaten yet, have you? It's always important to never miss a day of eating a healthy meal, we wouldn't want you growing stumped now would w-"

The collected Caster noticed Edward's increasingly shaking form, however, Archer hasn't. "Yes," the Servant in blue tux said, "You're already giving off unattractive qualities, you mustn't lose your stature and little dignity you have left now."

Alphonse reacted quicker than Edward, grabbing the yelling, angry Alchemist and holding him back. "WHO THE FRICK ARE YOU CALLING STUMPED AND LITTLE?! YOU WANNA GO?! YOU WANNA MESS WITH ME?! I'LL FRICKEN SHOW YOU YA FREAKS OF ALCHEMY AND LOAD OF BULL MAGIC! LIKE MY HEIGHT MATTERS THAN WHATEVER THE HELL YOU TWO ARE!"

"Ed! Ed! Calm down! Control yourself!" Jeanne attempted to soothe the angered Alchemist. Caster and Archer watched silently, they regarded each other, then return their gaze at the squirming boy.

"Hm... Short-tempered."

Archer dared to say.

The three teens gawked, and Edward began to outright scream. Jeanne grabbed onto his legs that kicked to reach for the smirked man. "THAT'S IT! THAT'S IT THAT'S IT! YOU'RE DEAD! IF YOU REALLY DID DIE BEFORE AND YOU'RE A GHOST THEN I'M SENDING YOU RIGHT BACK TO HELL YOU DAMN-"

A hard slap against his cheek, he practically spat from the force. "Pull yourself together! There's nothing to be ashamed of having such a small height! Just accept it and be proud of who you are!"

Jeanne braced herself, her eyes closing tight and awaiting for a hurl of insults. When none came, she opened one eye.

Edward lay motionlessly, his body limped over his brothers' hold as his arms dangled. A part of his face was seen, his eyes were rolled back as drool was slipping out from his mouth.

"I... I think you knocked him unconscious." Alphonse assessed.

Jeanne blinked, then squealed in horror. "I- Oh Lord forgive me! Edward! I'm so sorry! I was too harsh! W-wake up now!"

"Stay with us brother!" Alphonse shook his dazed brother to stir him awake.

Archer covered his smile with two of his fingers. "Oh dear," Caster said, "It seems our young friend here is very sensitive about his height."

The genius coughed into his clenched hand and relaxed his face into a neutral expression, "Indeed. We shall have to tread carefully from now on." Not that he would do so when the moment calls for it, however.

Caster approached the panicking teens and the knocked out Edward. A quick examination, he assured Alphonse and Jeanne, "Don't worry. He's fine. He'll just be out for a moment."

He tenderly lifted Edward's head by the chin, "Of course I could also do this."

With his other hand, he snapped his fingers. An impressively loud resounding click. Instantly, Edward awoke with a start. "Wha-huh-what?"

"There. Just fine," Caster said with a gentle smile, neither indulging if the trick he used was with magecraft or simply mundane. Alphonse and Jeanne breathed out in relief.

"Goddammit, why does my face feel like it got hit by a truck?" Edward held his left cheek as he winced in pain. Jeanne winced with him, though she was more perturbed by how he described her slap. She never meant for it to be that powerful, she mentally scolded herself to be more aware of her own strength.

Caster raised a hand and a healing glow surrounded Edward's cheek, "Let's just say everyone got a little bit too excited."

The pink handprint of Jeanne faded, and the pain itself disappeared. "Uh... thanks."

Honestly, this guy should meet with Doctor Marcoh, Edward has a feeling the two doctors would get along well, and he imagined that it would be particularly a fascinating subject of how this man could heal this affectively.

Oh, and the fact that this very man knows how to create a homunculus in the hotel bathroom. He is sure that the old doctor would get a kick out of that...

"We should go back now," Jeanne said. "Winry is waiting for us. Archer, Caster, thank you again for understanding and selflessly accepting my request. I promise that-"

"Wait, Winry's here?" Edward asked.

Jeanne nodded, "Yes. She's waiting inside your hotel room."

He processed it. "She's inside our hotel room?"

Jeanne was confused at his tone. Alphonse as well, but then a second later, he gasped.

"Oh. Yes, of course," Archer suddenly said, remembering something. "I nearly have forgotten about your new helper, Caster."

Helper? Jeanne was further confused.

"Ah. Yes, she should still be in our young friend's bedroom..." Caster paused, then thought about it some more. "Although, I did specify that she should stay in that room until those officers have left."

She?

"Who are you-"

"CRAP!" The Elric brothers rushed for the door, startling Jeanne at their sudden bolt and leaving no room for explanation to their panic.

"What is- Did I miss something?" Jeanne asked the Servants. Caster looked at her, strangely sheepishly in her eyes.

"Well, I'll confess. The fault is mine as I may have acted rather rashly," he smiled as always, though this time it had a slight shame to it. "For instance, I was unaware that there was a certain law that prohibited the practice of creating an artificial being as an assistant, which I've completed doing so a couple of minutes ago."

"From what those brothers have said, it's severe enough that it warrants a death penalty," Archer explained nonchalantly. "If I may give my opinion, I'd say this law is rather overly restrictive for what they say should just be a simple theory. I would think this country of Alchemical achievements would want to dab a little further in the curiosity of science."

His words simply faded as Jeanne comprehended his beginning sentence and Caster's explanation. Then, she too rushed after the boys. Leaving the Servants of the Fullmetal Alchemist to mind themselves.

"...It's rather telling that Ruler is quite fond of those boys, don't you agree?" Archer suddenly says.

Caster nodded, "And I can see why. Only knowing them a day and I already feel quite attached. But then again, I am rather attached to all of my students, even those I have not met."

"Well then. Shall we?" Archer politely gestured to the door, his form fading into a golden mist; entering his Spirit Form.

"Indeed." Caster follows in suit, and both Servants vanished.

---

An anthem of metal clanking and rattling as Alphonse rushed after his older brother, his voice huffing within his helmet out of habit than necessity. Edward nearly tumbled down the stairs but saved himself after leaping over a step and reaching the next floor before proceeding down the corridor.

They reached their hotel room and slammed open the door. Edward exhaled out, "W-! Winry?"

Winry sat comfortably at the couch, a teacup in her hand, and a pale woman with short dark hair, wearing an apron around her waist, delicately pouring tea into her cup.

"Oh. You're back." Winry said as Caster's homunculus sets down the teapot. "You guys want something to drink? The maid here offered me some."

The brothers fainted without another word.

"...O-kay?" Winry said, staring at the brothers on the floor. "They must have fought a lot. Got too tired to keep standing."

She looked over to what she presumed to be the maid, expecting a remark. The pale girl simply stood there without another word, blinking once.

...I guess she's mute after all. Winry wasn't sure what to make of the strange girl. She hadn't received a name even when she asked for it, or direct confirmation if the girl was a friend of the brothers.

For the duration of the Elric brothers and Jeanne's absence, Winry merely watched as the silent pale girl noticed the open door and splattered cake on the ground, and moved for the trashcan. Winry apologized for the mess and affirmed that she clean it herself. A firm shake of the other girl's head halted Winry in her tracks as if duty-bound to tend to this herself while letting Winry emotionally recuperate. Winry asked if the girl was a maid for the hotel. The pale girl paused for a thought, then gently nodded.

Winry insisted that she at the very least helped, and took this time to converse with the silent worker while waiting for everyone's return. It wasn't much of a back and forth conversation as Winry was the only one leading it, though she did get a few uncertain nods, slow shake of the head, and occasional staring. Strange as the quiet girl was, especially since she was without shoes, she seemed friendly enough.

"U-um. W-winry?" Coming to, Edward slowly sits up. "Who... who do you have there?" Hoping to feign ignorance and not having to explain about this girl being in his apartment and wearing his pajamas. Dammit, was there really nothing else she could have worn?

"Oh. I... don't really have her name yet. But she told me that she's the maid here," Winry said, sipping once from her cup. "So, did you guys have your fight?"

"Uh... yeah," Alphonse said. "We... managed to work everything out."

Winry smiled at them, "Good. Now, come in. This is really good tea she made," she looked up at the girl. "You could sit down and have a cup with us too if you want."

"W-wait! She can't!" Edward blurted out. It was uncomfortable in itself having what should merely be a fantastical theory be sitting near his childhood friend.

Winry looked at him, oblivious of his astounding, "Why not?"

"Cause, uh... She's got work to do?"

The automail mechanic shrugged nonchalantly.

"She can have a break if she wants to. Right?" Looking up at the homunculus expectantly, the pale girl seemed reluctant, a faint fidget in her demeanor. Her bronze eye trailed after the second teacup, a hint of interest. They heard rapid footsteps from the corridor, and at last, Jeanne arrives. She huffed a breath of worry, and her eyes gawked at the sight of the pale girl.

"Hey, Jeanne. Is something wrong?" Winry asked innocently.

"I-I. Um. That is..." She looked at the brothers on the floor, kneeling down to their sides. "Is... is everything alright here?"

"Oh! Yeah! Absolutely," Edward muttered through his gritted teeth. No it freakin isn't! There's a freakin homunculus standing next to my best friend over there!

"That's the spirit. Now come on," Winry smiled, grabbing and holding up an empty cup for the homunculus, "I think we all deserve to relax today."

A small gesture of encouragement, the homunculus approached and accepted the cup, much to the bated breaths of everyone else in the room, apart from Winry who continues savor the taste of the delicious tea in blissful content that all seems right once more.

---

The Holy Maiden, the Elric brothers, their automail mechanic Winry, and the nameless homunculus, all sat together in the living room, sipping from their teacups. Most are attempting to appear not so obviously discomforted at the presence of one particularly silent individual. Alphonse apologized to Winry for doubting her and Pinako's genuine friendship and familial love.

Winry was understandably stern, lecturing that he should remind himself what they previously discussed if he ever doubts his life again, otherwise, she will strike him so hard his soul will most certainly feel it. Alphonse laughed, albeit frightened, but pleasantly assured. Edward continues to eye the sitting homunculus who looked right back at him, a contest of unrelenting stare, though the homunculus had no interest nor understanding of what that is.

Winry, meanwhile, is telling the fun experience she and Jeanne had at Elicia's party, including a surprising proposition from Maes Hughes.

"The lieutenant colonel really offered you to stay at his house, Jeanne?" Alphonse asked.

She nodded, "I was surprised myself. I didn't want to take advantage of his hospitality but he was very insistent. I told him that I would think about it, but I think I would have probably eventually said yes if Elicia held onto my leg any longer. I believe she was the reason for the lieutenant colonel wanting me to stay."

"Sounds like his family really took to you and Winry," Alphonse correctly presume. "I'm glad. They're really nice people, they've always been there for me and Ed. Maybe we really should think about stopping by for a visit."

Edward snorted, breaking eye-contact with the impassive homunculus, "And deal with that man's constant blubbering about his wife and daughter? I think I'll pass on that."

"Come on. It's been a while since we've seen Elicia and Gracia. I bet they'd be really happy to see us."

A contemplative frown from the Fullmetal Alchemist, "I'll think about it. Kind of need to get a few things settled first, though."

Winry looked at the clock on the wall. She sets down her cup. "I think it's about time to get back to Hughes' place. Are you coming, Jeanne?"

"Hm," Jeanne hummed in thought, "I suppose there's no harm in spending a few days there."

While she would have preferred to stay here and keep guard of the Elric brothers, the boys have their two Servants protecting them now - with one a doctor and the other to provide support. Having her this close to them may be unnecessary, and quite frankly, she may have fallen for the adorable charms of sweet little Elicia that prompts her closer to accepting Hughes' proposal. Should she be needed back here, she will reach here in no less than a few minutes.

"I'll need time to pack my things and check out. You go on ahead, Winry. I'll stay just for a little longer and then I'll see you at Hughes."

Winry nodded, "Alright. I'll see you guys later." Walking towards the front door, she suddenly paused and spun around.

"Oh yeah! Thanks for the tea!" She said to the homunculus, waving goodbye at her. "Maybe next time I can have your name?"

Blinking slowly, the homunculus mimicked Winry's wave. The rest bid her a good afternoon as well and watched the mechanic leave for the Hughes Household, closing the front door.

At Winry's absence, Edward finally spoke his thoughts, "Now what the hell are we supposed to do with her?"

He calls attention to the homunculus. "If so much as one word gets out that we have a homunculus with us, we'll be arrested on the spot and I'll be booted off the military. And if we do get arrested, they'll find out about Alphonse's body and we'll be in even more trouble. I don't think even the colonel will be able to get us out of it."

"If she poses that much of an issue, I could forgo her existence entirely," Caster materializes behind the couch the brothers sat. Edward flinched at his arrival, crawled with the uneasiness of the man's way of appearing, very certain that he may never get used to such a strange yet fascinating show that defies reality.

"Forgo... what do you mean by that?" He asked.

"He means it as it sounds," Archer stated neutrally, coming into sight like the solidified apparition that he and Caster are, and settling in the seat spared by Winry.

Edward regarded his words with deep concentration, his golden brows raised. "What... you mean kill her?!"

Alphonse's shock was distinctly heard. Killing the homunculus, this girl? No they... they can't be serious! But without a hint of kidding or even disturbance at the suggestion, they were indeed serious much to his horror. He can see that Jeanne did not visually feel appealed to the idea, far from it, but what was even more disturbing was that the homunculus, who must have heard the suggestion clearly, did not so much as a blink from it. Did the homunculus lack self-preservation? It truly must be an artificial creation, excluded from the basic human instincts, but even if this homunculus did not understand the abhor act of killing a clueless living thing, Alphonse certainly does!

"It wouldn't be much trouble for the Caster, I imagine," Archer looked to the other man to confirm this.

The Caster answered with a nod, "It wouldn't take time at all, and hardly any evidence would-"

"NO WAY! No no no! We're not killing her!" Edward jumped to his feet. "Don't just talk like we're getting rid of some trash! The hell is wrong with you?!"

Caster responded calmly, "Personally, I would prefer not to break her down," he had just finished making her after all. "But if you say that her existence is disconcerting, I would have no qualms with it."

A logical answer that only frustrated the state alchemist. Edward wildly scratched his own head, "You don't get it! I-"

Pinching the bridge of his nose, he takes a deep breath just as Jeanne reached out to him. He shook his hand at her, calming himself down.

"Look, the fact of the matter is you," he pointed at Caster, "Did something that was only a theory, creating artificial life inside a tub like it was nothing. Homunculi creation was something that's been considered to be impossible by researchers known throughout the decades, and at the stage Alchemy is currently in, it would have taken us another decade or more before we could even get to just a fraction of what you did in just a day. I..."

His tank of vigor sank, rubbing his forehead tiredly as a small desire to laugh at the sheer absurdity of this week bubbled inside him, "I don't know whether to be terrified or amazed. A literal impossibility is standing in front of us. Well... it's been with us for a while now." He referred to the Servants around him, glancing at the worried Jeanne.

He went quiet then, everyone watching him with even breaths.

"Brother?" Alphonse gently calls him.

Rather than answering, Edward's mind circulates as he tries to intake the insanity of these recent days. He looked at the homunculus, she was waiting in her chair with a pristine posture, dull eyes looking back at him. He moved around the table to approach her.

"Edward?" Though Jeanne questioned, she was ignored, and so she could only observe with caution.

The Fullmetal Alchemist stopped in front of the homunculus, kneeling before her. His golden eyes scanned the whitish-pink features and emotionless sensation of the homunculus' expression, the blankness of the windows to her soul. Looking at her this close, she looked so human and yet, she also looked fake. Artificial, of course. Perfection in all the wrong places that would usually define a human being for their existing physical flaws, impeccably round bone structures like that of a plastic doll. She still very much breathes like any other. It was clear enough, however, she was not human.

But she was very much alive.

"You're really a homunculus, huh?"

Unaware of himself as he solely focused on the homunculus, he reached out for her face with his automail hand. His eyes gradually glittered with intrigue, a young boy who has an immense fascination for the scientific wonder about the phenomenon that was before him. What science attempts to achieve and continuously fail, it was here, living and breathing, right in front of his very eyes.

Jeanne wasn't sure how to react to this, she felt... estranged, somehow. His face was something that she was surprised to see, and it left her a peculiar feeling. Nothing so bad, though the longer Edward looked at the homunculus, the more agitated she was inexplicably becoming.

"She's... alive. Right?" Edward questioned, his face souring.

Caster answered from behind, "Yes. Though a homunculus and a human being may differ in some way, she functions like that as one. Though, she is still in the developing stage. It will take time before she can properly act like any servant or assistant."

"Then if she's alive..." Edward began, lowering his hand. "If she's alive, then we have no right to take that away from her. It doesn't matter if she's not a real human. If she can think, breathe, and has feelings like you and me, then she's a living being in my eyes."

"Does a homunculus have a concept of life and death though?" Archer questioned, looking to Caster.

The Caster thought for a moment, seemingly to be debating that topic with himself, "Not if the creator does not allow it." He answers. "Generally, though, a homunculus would not know the meaning of life naturally, nor likely feel compels to know unless introduced to the subject, but they would understand their purpose the moment they are born. Their mentality would be no different from tools, not even death would faze them."

"Then we wouldn't call that a being that's alive, would we?" A sound argument from Archer, but an unspoken challenge as well.

Edward glared at the man in the chair. "It isn't about what someone thinks life is or what they believe they're here for. All living beings have a right to exist and live however they want. Whether they're human or not. An animal, or even someone who committed a crime. If it's not necessary, no one should have to take that miracle of a life away from them."

Unseen by all, the soul of Alphonse smiled widely. This was his brother alright. Even when Alphonse had become this husk of cold steel armor, he was never treated differently, he was never anything else except as the little brother Edward had always seen him.

Caster was actually taken aback by the unfearing words of his young Master, a light danced in his eyes, the faintest of his ever serene, yet gratifying smile that could reach his eyes if he allowed it to stretch any further.

This... He thought to himself, a memory softly emerging in his mind. The appreciation of a little boy who had the drive to learn more, to study more, to solve the hopeless scenarios of the invisible enemy that hides within the human body. The wonders of one's anatomy, and how truly precious it was like a temple made out of diamonds.

This is all I've been wanting to teach... He truly understands it.

Archer gently bobbed his head in agreeance, a small grin on his otherwise pleased expression, less of it is accepting the wishes of his Master and more being his commending the respect for life this boy has, as well the lack of discriminatory of what defines a life worth calling precious.

A righteous intelligent boy, though somewhat crass, he analyzed. "Then what shall we do with the second homunculus in the jar?"

Jeanne was rather stunned by the beautiful proclamation of Edward, her impression obvious in delight before registering Archer's question. "There is a second homunculus?"

Edward groaned once he was reminded, "Right. Dammit, I completely forgot about that other homunculus. Well, we can't just leave it hiding behind the toilet and hope no one finds it."

"Then..." Alphonse shifted in his seat, clasping his knees, "Should we... bring it with us?"

Edward sighed, an unspoken tale of his exhaustion. "...We got no other choice. If it's alive just like her, then we're keeping it that way."

Archer chuckled, "Then do you intend to leave it in that small jar forever? Not quite the respectful treatment of a fellow living being as you profess we should treat."

"I'll figure something out later!" Edward shouted, his patience and mentality already running thin. "We can't have two homunculi just walking around. That'll get us in trouble for sure! And I sure as hell ain't gonna explain why we got two random people following us. At least you guys can disappear!"

"I've never left a homunculus in that state without completing its bodily process before. Well, I'm sure it'll be fine, and it would give me more time to look for better equipment and materials should a second assistant be required," Caster absentmindedly spoke to himself. He was more than jolly, however, to cater to the Fullmetal Alchemist, it's the least he can do for the boy. Oh, he must certainly have him as his student, there is so much they can discuss as fellow enthusiasts for Alchemy and preserving life. And what better place than the land who accepts and practices their love of the craft so wholeheartedly!

"Anyway, let's just get this clear between all of us," Edward firmly pointed at the Caster, "No more homunculus making, or any other surprises you got hiding under your sleeves. If there's something else you could do that I might end up screaming later, warn me before you would think about doing it. Got it?"

"Absolutely," Caster tranquility beamed, his mind endlessly producing various ideas and plans for the near future.

Edward regarded the man suspiciously, then walked his way back to the couch. "Alright, now that we got that out of the way." He sat down and addressed Jeanne, immediately determined. "Tell us what to expect with this whole Grail War thing."

Jeanne understood and answered, "First, I shall tell you what I know about the Red Faction."

The Elric brothers leaned forward to listen closely. Archer and Caster attentively focused on Ruler, as any information from their newly allied Servant of numerous privileges as mediator will no doubt have great importance, even if at this time, they agreed to not partake in the war as competitors until the situation of the war's abnormality has been settled.

"Normally," Jeanne stated, "I would forbid myself from openly revealing the true names of the Servants I've met, in order for this war to be conducted fairly amongst competitors. Archer, Caster, while you are willing to lend me your power, once this matter is settled, you can pursue the grail like any other."

She noticed the visible bitterness in the Fullmetal Alchemist. He chose not to say anything and looked down in thought, letting her resume.

"And thus, I felt that I should only refrain from telling the true names of those outside the Red Faction. This is a temporary alliance after all, and I have a duty to respect the privacy of other Masters and Servants. However..."

Jeanne added with a grim tone, "With the recent actions of the Red Faction, I have decided to declare them a national-level threat against the war and this country. I will revoke their rights as contestants of the Holy Grail War under my name and the name of our faction so that we will put an end to their terrorisms. Naturally, in order for us to accomplish this goal together, I will tell you the names of the Servants among them I have confronted so that we will all have an equal advantage over them."

"Is it really that important to know their real names?" Alphonse asked, curious to hear the meaning of these aliases.

"Yes," Jeanne answered, "You see, by knowing the true names of these heroes, we will know their weaknesses. Information is the most dangerous asset to have at hand. Though, I suppose, since these heroes aren't exactly that well-known here in this country-"

"Cause they're from another world, right?" A snarky remark from Edward. Alphonse jerked his elbow to his brother's side, reprimanding the other Elric to behave. Edward mumbled in a complaint but did as Alphonse asked.

Jeanne cleared her throat. "Right, so in this case, the Master may not understand the weight of knowing the heroes' identity, but their Servants will. Heroic Spirits all come from this plane of existence called the Throne of Heroes. There, it has records of all famous individuals who have carved their names in history or have made an impact on the world in one way or another. Generally, even if the hero was born and have died in a different time period, their information would be heard by other heroes from any era in the Throne of Heroes, including their names, stories, achievements, and place of origin. The more famous the hero is, the more is known about them and their weaknesses."

"And none could be any more well known among us Servants than you, Joan of Arc," Archer mildly yet grandiosely announce. He fully recalls the declarative name of that Caster who seemed to know Ruler very much. "To think that I would have the honor of being in the presence of the brave young maiden who led the French army in the Hundred Years War."

The Elric brothers were caught completely off guard at this information. "Wha- Led an army?!" Edward's disbelief was very sound.

"Oh yes," Caster gleefully said. "Even in my time, word of your exploits revel between the faithful. I had met and treated old retired french soldiers who personally witnessed your triumphs and show of courage, lying sickly in their beds as they continuously pray the name of the Saint of Orléans."

The Elric brothers' surprised gaze fell upon the braided girl. It was apparent that Jeanne hasn't planned to mention any of this as she nervously intertwines her fingers.

"I wouldn't call them exploits... And I didn't exactly lead an army. I've only done what I can to raise morality and offer some... tactical advice to the generals. Minor counseling, nothing more." She tried to make it sound as unworthy of applause as she believes it should.

"Yet that astute guidance of yours is what made King Charles' army come close to victory. It was due to your influence that saved Orleans and by extension, saved France from total conquering," Archer detailed, having heard a short general history lesson of the Hundred Year War in his school days, but was able to know more information through the Throne of Heroes.

With the suave of a true gentleman who does not fear to speak his observation of true assessment, he added, "From what I have seen in our short time fighting alongside one another, the accounts of your courageous feats rung true. That beautiful faith in yourself which fueled the despairing and the defeated with radiating hope. In the face of that cold battle that seemed unending, you, in the midst of it, blossomed and illuminated, lovely as a field of daisies in the summer."

Edward and Alphonse looked at Archer in dumbfoundedness, never thought to consider him a poet, though Edward wondered if Archer really had to be so showy with words. Jeanne was flustered, her cheeks reddening from Archer's remark.

"N-no no! I don't- I don't deserve such a compliment! It's undeserving! My faith was not just in myself, it was in God and in everyone I fought with. All that the people seemed to be so appreciative for, was due to the joined efforts of everyone in the French army. Believe me, you should not regard me in such a way!" She sputtered.

Alphonse contemplated the flowery words of Archer. It was true that being around Jeanne, he felt this uplifting sense of peace and certainty. While being around her, engaging in conversation with her, there was a subtle feeling of eagerness that led him to think that anything can be accomplished with his own two hands. He felt this while they were in Resembool together for three days, he had enjoyed being around her because of how "good" she made him feel.

A friendly warm presence that made him smile in his memory as he does with Winry and Pinako. Even when he and his brother were up against Scar, even when they were in that battle last night that seemed so impossible to survive from, he never felt hopeless while being around her. She was a wonderful person, that was what he thought. But to think that she motivated an army?! Alphonse was stunned.

Edward's thoughts differ. Frankly, he thought Archer's description was excessive, hammy and a little creepy. It was true that Jeanne was tough. It was impressive alone how she fought the way she did, he admits this, but to call this girl a "saint" or "leader"? He certainly gets the impression, but he couldn't take those words seriously. Looking at the embarrassed girl who was trying her hardest to deflect the poetic words directed towards her as she cupped her blushing face, he cannot see her as someone who has done that much in her life that's not much younger than his own.

She was not ordinary in the least, very unlike those who couldn't break the ground from where they stand and fight against humanoids with monstrous abilities. But to have fought in something called the Hundred Years War? To have led an army as if she took the front? He's never heard of something like that in the recent decade, and last he understood, this was supposed to be a simple, normal girl he met in Liore with whimsical beliefs but otherwise a down to earth personality.

Just who in the world is she?

"A-anyway, let's say for example; a warrior who has lived his life as a hero with noble deeds heard all around his home country, and his name is revered for his incredible strength, however, he has a weak point that if struck, he will die. Somehow, everyone who has heard of the hero would then hear about this weakness he has. One day, an enemy comes by, sneaks up on the hero and assassinated him by striking his weak point - let's say the back of his head, and the assassin was able to manage this by either waiting for the moment the hero removes his helmet, or he removes it himself by force."

Jeanne resumes, "The hero dies but his achievements have earned him a spot in the Throne of Heroes, where every hero who has passed into that plane of existence would then become aware of this hero's general backstory, and how the hero has died. They would only know basic information except for details like the hero's appearance, personality, even their gender will be unknown. If that hero lived again and his identity is kept hidden, then he would be a very difficult opponent to go against."

"But if someone realized who he was, they'd know how to defeat him easier," Edward concluded. A much crueler example came to his mind that made his stomach turned, his thoughts over Alphonse.

If Alphonse's weak point was to be discovered by their enemies, those enemies would no doubt use this knowledge as leverage, or simply kill his younger brother just to get to Edward. Alphonse had only been able to handle the various life-threatening situations because of their secret and was able to live as long as he has because his seal is left undisturbed and undamaged. If that were exposed, Alphonse's life will forfeit by anyone who aimed to try. Understanding this much, he clenched his fists, a terrible notion that he is determined will never happen so long as he breathes.

"Precisely," Caster confirmed. "Information is key, though I would say that it is more useful than it is essential. It can still be possible to understand how to defeat any warrior, but it will be a hefty task to do so while likely putting our lives on the line. And not all warriors are promised to have a weak point, but their strengths would be grasped and therefore, we would formulate a plan to work around it."

"That is why to blindly seek out the Red Faction without proper preparation will surely lead us to a difficult battle," Jeanne said. "I'll be looking out for more members to join our cause so that we have a better chance of fighting the Red Faction. But if we come across them, then it would be best to know how to deal with the Servants you may potentially encounter. Though I've only grasped a few of their Servants identity, and I'm sure that they have more Heroic Spirits on their side."

"Any information, little as they are, will prove to be immensely helpful," Archer said. "Even if we do not come across them, it would do us well to understand the sort of power the Red Faction has, and what to expect when the worst is to come from their power, even if it's only a glimpse of it."

Jeanne agreed, "I will tell you this, they indeed have tremendously strong Servants among them. So strong that we alone will not be enough to deter them in the slightest, and that's why we should focus on collecting more members for our faction first before we make an effort to uncover the Red Factions hidden base."

"That is a wise move," Caster concurred. He should consider planning an army of combative familiars - with a pre-delivered warning to his Master, of course. But he'll need quite a various source of materials for this, and before that, he needs to situate himself a lab, which will be difficult to care for if they are to be traveling. He already has a few blue-prints in minds, he must start building his mobile-laboratory at once, or anything to help him transport his materials with him.

Edward crossed his arms, "Alright, so tell us about the Servants you know and that we should watch out for."

With a nod, Jeanne relays what she knows, "Do you remember that man with dark hair and wielding two spears? It was during that incident with Scar."

Edward recalled very clearly, "Yeah, he had a long one and a short one. Before him though, there was someone who fired arrows at you. Then after that, you stuck me inside a dumpster."

"R-right. I'm really sorry about that, but I was only trying to keep you safe."

Edward's forgiveness was not so telling. There should have been better ways than to stuff him inside a giant garbage can, though he will admit that she did spare him from brazenly getting into something that could have gotten him killed for not generally grasping the severe absurdity of the situation at the time.

Jeanne continued, "While I am unsure if the Servants there are from the very same faction, I have reason to believe that they are with their shared intent to kill me. I was unable to identify the Archer, but I've met with their Lancer. A man who wields a spear in each hand. His name is Diarmuid Ua Duibhne."

The Servants of the Fullmetal Alchemists were briefly glossed over with information at their hearing of the name.

"Diarmuid, also known as Diarmuid of the Love Spot." Archer tells, "A wielder of two magical spears and an excellent warrior who has fought and won many battles. His cursed charm caused the fiancé of his king to fall in love and elope with him. Diarmuid fought his king's army without fail until his king finally accepted their relationship. After some time, Diarmuid perished from succumbing to the wounds he received from a Demon Boar while hunting. His king was there with him. The king had the ability to turn water into a healing liquid, but though he had said to have forgiven the warrior, his lingering resentment led him to avoid giving the healing water to Diarmuid, letting the knight that won him many battles die in agony."

The Elric brothers listened to the summary of this hero. A tragic tale that they would hear from romance novels or in dramatic theater plays. "Huh, that's... a really sad story," Alphonse quietly said.

"Most stories of great heroes are," Archer responded. "You cannot live a grand life without knowing the insufferable quality of it as well."

"So the guy took his king's fiancé and later got killed by a boar?" Edward was not sympathetic in the least. "I don't know who's more stupid, that knight who stole someone else's wife, that fiancé who ran away with him, or that king who was really petty to just leave a guy to die out of jealousy."

He received stunned reactions from all around, and his criticisms were not yet finished, "You got to be a real idiot to do something like that. First of all, eloping with his king's fiance was stupid on its own, like it's some kind of romantic journey. That fiancé was no better if she can just drop one guy for someone more handsome. But honestly, that king was just pathetic. If he'd forgive the guy but then leave him, his best knight, to just die like that, I'd say he's even more childish than the other two."

A blank look from Archer, and then a guffaw. "Yes! I suppose you're right about that! You're certainly an unforgivably honest boy, aren't you?"

"I tell it like how it is, or how I see it anyway," Edward slouched into his seat.

Caster, rather taken aback by Edward's assessment, held back his chuckle of surprise. "Yes, well, I don't think it was entirely that knight's fault. His name Diarmuid of the Love Spot is as it sounds. According to his legend, he has a magical spot on his body that can captivate a woman's heart. A curse that can be proven very effective against female Servants. I imagine the symptoms will be the loss of reasoning, and could potentially lead the Servants to turn against their own Master in favor of defending the person who has charmed them. It will take a decent level of Magic Resistance to be unmoved by his curse."

"I can confirm this," Jeanne pointed below her left eye. "His curse is his mole under his eye. I was able to endure its effects with Magic Resistance. Though it wasn't really a powerful curse, it could be problematic should we recruit Masters and Servants who are likely to be susceptible against it."

"I will have potions ready should that happen, potent enough to completely block the effects of his curse," Caster readily affirmed.

"So... This Diarmuid guy can make girls fall in love with him?" Alphonse asked for certainty. While somewhat fantastical, he has seen instances of girls coming to him. Head over heals as they mistakenly assumed him to be the Fullmetal Alchemist his older brother is. So it wasn't exactly that far-fetched.

"Yes, though I have my suspicions that he does not have control over it," Caster deduced. "Otherwise his tragedy could have been easily preventable if tales of his loyalty to his king are to be taken seriously."

Edward huffed as if to laugh. "If this guy really was loyal he wouldn't have been willing to run away with that girl."

Jeanne, having only met with Diarmuid for a brief moment, felt the need to defend the knight. Even though Diarmuid had done his part in distracting her for their Assassin to attempt inflicting a fatal strike, she cannot say that he was an evil man whose sins of his past was with purposed intent. She can still recall that sorrowful eyes when she first met him. This was not his curse taking effect, this was her compassion.

"It's possible that Grainne, the fiancé of Diarmuid's King Fionn, had placed a geis on Diarmuid. A geis is essentially another kind of curse that those who are placed under it are obligated to follow, and aside from that, Grainne was to be queen at the time, so I doubt it would have been simple to just deny the wishes of his would be queen."

"Well then that Grainne chick was crazy," Edward declared. "She got that knight in trouble. But I still think this Diarmuid should have put his foot down if he wanted to stay loyal, but maybe it would have been easier if that king was less of an ass."

"I... suppose," Jeanne relented. "Either way, his love spot is not the only thing to take heed of. He wields two spears, a long red spear that could pierce through anything made entirely out of prana or energy, and a short yellow spear that inflict wounds that will never heal. Between those two weapons, you must watch out for the shorter spear. It inflicts a curse that will prevent your wounds from healing naturally or even by alchemical and magecraft practice. It is possible to exorcise the effects, but it is a difficult process."

She was able to achieve breaking through the curse effects of the blue Lancer's - Cu Chulainn's spear in order to save Edward's heart, but even her efforts were not immediate, she can only imagine that Diarmuid's spear - Gae Buidhe, will be even more difficult. Though she and likely Alphonse are impervious to its effects, Edward and his Servants are not.

"Hm. Yes, that particular spear does sound to be troublesome," Caster said thoughtfully, though he was more curious than concerned. Curious to see the effects for himself and how he may dispel it. To him, a curse that prevents wounds from healing is simply another ailment for him to treat, and he has never been a doctor who has failed to treat a patient of any symptom in his entire life. He'll have to prepare some antidotes though, if he cannot remove the curse immediately, he can stop the bleeding and hold onto the patient's life until he succeeds his operation. A gentle show of his tenacious spirits, and one who looks forward to solving any illness he may come across. A scientist never stops pursuing knowledge after all.

Edward considered for a moment, "A weapon that can prevent someone's injury from healing. That's a pretty dangerous ability. Alright, who's next?"

Jeanne listed off the next Servant, "The second Servant of the Red Faction I met was an Assassin, Charles Henri-Sanson. He was the one who has white hair and was carrying a hatchet."

Edward remembered him, the man with an oddly unnoticed present, "When I first saw him, I... I couldn't really tell that he was there. He was almost invisible, even though he was standing right there."

Thinking back on it, he still could not form a logical explanation that fathomed the strange existence of that man with the hatchet. It was like his senses were blocked off even though he could still register the appearance of that man.

"That is the skill of an Assassin class Servant," Jeanne explained. "Assassins have the ability to conceal their presence and move in for the kill in a swift and quick manner. They're generally the weakest class as they are usually unfit to fight directly against other Servants, and so they are most preferably used to slay Masters, cutting off the main supply of prana, as well killing the holder of the Command Seals is a sure way of weakening the Servants, and if the Servants does not find a new Master within a certain time-frame, they will eventually die off and disappear from this world."

The Elric brothers shuddered. Such a cold and calculative tactic, they suddenly felt the need to look over their shoulders.

"There's no need to fret," Caster said, "Even though Assassins can hide their presence, they cannot completely erase their existence. I can set up a protection barrier that will warn me of any intruders deemed to be a threat. This will allow me to detect if a Servant has entered our vicinity, even if that Servant were to be an Assassin. Although I would not be able to pinpoint their exact location until they attempt their attack on us."

"Well geez, that makes me feel so much better," Edward sarcastically said.

"Don't worry boy, we'll always be standing guard around you, there won't be a Servant who will sneak pass us," Archer said to calm, though it was evident that Edward was hardly convinced as he still was not sure what to make of his Servants.

"Basically, so long as the Servant is near the Master, the Assassin will not achieve a successful kill," Caster tells.

He hopes to calm the Elric brothers with this assurance, but it seemed to disturb them more.

"Getting back topic," Jeanne reminded. "Charles is not quite a professional killer, he is an executioner whose family has worked in the business of enforcing capital punishment for four generations. He has taken part in executing social class members during a revolt against King Louis and Queen Marie, and after the fall of the royal capital, he was then duty-bound to execute the Royals with the newly constructed device - the guillotine."

The Fullmetal Alchemist's eyes widened, "Wait, then what I saw back then..."

"Right. That was his noble phantasm, like how Diarmiud's spears are his noble phantasm, Charles weapon is the guillotine which he can summon and potentially kill a person instantly."

"He... summons a guillotine?" Alphonse asked for elaboration. He found it difficult to imagine.

Edward shivered from a haunted memory, "You should have seen it, Al. It just appeared out of nowhere, and I thought for sure Jeanne's head would have rolled when that blade came down."

Jeanne had to concur as she softly touched her neck, remembering the pain and disturbingly close call. "It's a weapon not to be taken lightly, though I have a feeling that certain conditions must be met in order for his noble phantasm to successfully execute a Servant, and it seems to only reach the capacity of one target. However, you must absolutely stay as far away from him Ed, Alphonse, because even if his noble phantasm may not have the power to kill every Servant, it can most certainly kill any human. Charles is neither a warrior nor does he work in the shadows to execute targets, and his Presence Concealment is not very high, meaning that if he gets too close he'll be noticed even if he hides out of sight and us undistracted. Still, it would be best to never lower your guard around him."

A nod of understanding from the Elric brothers, they pay close attention to the next named Servant.

"After Diarmuid and Charles, for a few weeks, I was not met with any more assassination attempt until the attack on this city. I was nearby when I felt something was wrong. After realizing that several Servants were heading towards Central, I rushed for the city. I saw that storm form and went right into it in hopes to stop it somehow. There, I was faced with a few Servants of Red."

So that explains how and why she was around when everything went down, Edward thought to himself.

"First was a Rider by the name of Hippolyta. Queen of a warrior race known as the Amazons, and daughter of Ares, the God of War. She wields a bow and is said to have incredible strength that could move a mountain, and who was nearly on par with one of the strongest warriors at that time and possibly to this date. The second was Attila the Hun, a king - who was actually a woman - that brought ruin to the massive empire of Rome. A most dangerous foe. She has the power to wipe out a city with one swing of her sword."

"N-no kidding?" Edward's throat dried as he looked on hoping she was kidding. Alphonse felt his soul quiver.

Jeanne shook her head, insisting this to be true, "She will be by far the most difficult opponent. Personally, I don't believe we have enough man-power to go against her even if all four of us fought together, so by all means, we must gather more before we should have to fight her. However, if by chance we come across her, whatever the circumstance, Ed, Al, you both must run away as far as you can. Don't ever stop to look back, don't ever stop at all."

The weight of her order sends goosebumps to the brothers. It was hard to imagine that something so deadly could exist, but with what they've experienced so far, they really should not underestimate the potential catastrophe of anything that comes in their way.

"Yes," Archer's expression turned grim as the one who had a taste of the ruiner's power, "That is most definitely a dangerous enemy we should not recklessly trifle with."

Caster withheld any comment and was in deep thought, but otherwise collected. Jeanne then finalizes with the last Servant of Red she came into contact, the Servant which her heart boiled in such a level of vehemence, even she was surprised, but it was within good reasons. "Finally, the last Servant I've met was the Servant you have all seen when you were with me. That Caster in pale clothing."

"Ah, yes, I recall," The Caster in this room said, "They seemed to be familiar with me. I feel ashamed to say that I don't recognize them in the least."

"It's possible that they were wearing a disguise," Jeanne offered a theory, "After all, this Servant has mastery over the art of illusion."

Archer looked at her with an abrupt realization, "Then the one responsible for that storm was..."

Jeanne nodded, "I have reason to believe that it was him. After seeing his True Name, there is no doubt about that. He was the one who created that storm, not only that, but I also believe that he created those illusions of the golems as wells. That's why there seemed to be so many when I was certain that I only saw about a hundred of them before they entered Central."

"What, that cross-dresser?" Edward questioned. "He was the one who conjured up those golems and turned half of Central into a winter warzone?"

"Yes, and moreover, he is a reputable mage pushed into the far corners of Mage history," a surprising bitterness in Jeanne's tone as her gentle eyes turned angry. "His name is Francois Prelati."

"Francois Prelati?" Caster's eyes widened, "I've heard of him, from a friend in life at least. He... oh."

He understood then, as well did Archer, their sympathetic looks were given.

"Oh, Jeanne..." Caster sadly voiced unspoken condolences.

Edward was confused by their reaction, his focus returned to Jeanne, and he was surprised at what he sees. It was a dark look, one that he never thought he would see on Jeanne. She has shown her anger a few times before, but this was different, even as she sat in her seat calmly, Edward could feel the tension. She was absolutely livid.

"What is it? Did you know the guy?" He asked, ignorant and thus, wanted to hear to understand.

"I've never met him in person, but I think he would have heard of me," Jeanne said, her soft anger getting even hotter. "He was the reason who turned my closest friend into a monster. It was him who made Gilles-!" Her fists shook as she tightly clenched the fabric of her dress in between her fingers, her anger so apparent she seemed close to break into tears.

"Jeanne?" Alphonse asked, shocked to see this side of her. He'd never thought he would see this much anger from this usually soft-mannered girl.

His kind concern as gentle as his own nature, and a show of Edward's frowning worry, pulled Jeanne out of her internal irate.

She intakes a breath, and lets it out to calm herself, "Forgive me. It's just... this is a dangerous man we are dealing with. While I love all Servants equally, this person... he is a terrible man. I beg the Lord his forgiveness, for I am unable to give it to this man. He has done nothing to me, but to a very dear friend of mine. He corrupted him. The man I once knew and trusted became a monster because of Francois."

She knew better than to say that Gilles was completely not at fault for his own sins. There was no denying nor excusing his awful actions, but Jeanne believed that if it weren't for Francois, Gilles would not have turned into a horrible mass murderer, or allow easy access to that awful path. Rather than console her friend and guide him back to the Lord, he was led astray, given a knife to butcher others with and expose his rage to the world, performing dark, forbidden arts to mutilate others, only possible to learn from that evil mage.

"Both of you should avoid him at any and all times," she strictly told the brothers. "He has abilities fitting of a trickster. An illusionist who can fool even the environment into believing his illusions are real."

"How the hell does that work?" Edward inquired, curious rather than in disbelief, though maybe there is a little bit of the latter.

"His illusions are so convincing," Jeanne explains, "He could fool even the sharp senses of a Servant. Was it not freezing cold when we were in that storm?"

The Elric brothers nodded, "Yeah it was but... there's no way that was all just an illusion!" Edward insisted for the sake of his practicality.

"But brother, we didn't even see any lump of snow or ice after that storm disappeared," Alphonse pointed out. "The weather, and those golems. It all... vanished. It was so weird. Like they really were never there."

"That's how precise Francois' craft is," Jeanne said. "He is also capable of forging an illusion of a person, perhaps even a Servant. I would be able to tell apart his illusions, but they should not be taken lightly. Even if you can tell that they are illusions, the effect they will leave you will feel real. His power, though not real, could kill you."

"Just how many freaks are we dealing with here?" Edward asked.

Jeanne expressively apologized, "I'm afraid this is only a handful of them. There are more whose names I don't know that we have to watch out for."

"Do not worry. Though we are few in numbers, it would be a mistake to undermine our power," Archer proclaims.

"Still, it would be preferable that we expand our faction with more recruits," Caster advised. "You mentioned the Blue Faction before. Is it possible that we may come to an alliance with them?"

"It would help us greatly," Jeanne sees Caster's reasoning, "But after what I, Edward and Alphonse discovered, with the Philosopher's Stone and what Edward had seen inside the abandoned laboratory, even if not everyone in the Blue Faction is aware of the means being used to create the stone being done in this city, I cannot forgive such actions and work with them knowing that they are using human lives in order to power their army."

"Yeah, I'm not too keen on that either," Edward stated, crossing his arms. "There are soldiers there we can trust, Major Armstrong, Lieutenant Ross, Sergeant Brosh, Lieutenant Hughes. These are people we can definitely rely on in Central, and more in East City. Some of them, so far, are aware of this Holy Grail War, but the Philosopher's Stone is gonna be another wind to take out of them. Besides, we should keep a low profile and stay away from Central Command for now."

"Should we... tell Major Armstrong what we're doing?" Alphonse asked Edward.

Edward said nothing for a moment, "...I'll have to think about it some more. I know for sure, though, that he'll want us to keep ourselves out of this for our own sake. That's not something I'm willing to do if we want to save Nina and get our bodies back."

Alphonse silently agreed with his brother. He knows how much everyone cared for him and his brother, he would feel guilty to keep this a secret from them, but if it's for Nina's sake, then he'll do whatever he can in order to find a way to bring her back to normal. He knows that the officers meant well, but they weren't going to stop until they are closer to their goal.

"If we're looking for more help though, then those guys are our best options," Edward acknowledged. An idea suddenly came to him, "Maybe... we should ask Teacher."

Alphonse abruptly turned his body to face him, "T-teacher?!" He stuttered, fear evident in his voice.

"I know how it sounds," Edward understood the younger brother's fear very well, he himself was mildly trembling in his shoes at the thought of their old Alchemy instructor. "She's gonna kill us for what we did, but if we're going to look for help, then she might be the one who can give it. Besides..."

He clenched his automail hand, balling it into a fist. "I've been losing too many fights recently, and with these Servants to worry about, I feel like neither of us is gonna have that good of a chance. If we want to get stronger, then we'll need Teacher's help with this."

"Who is your teacher?" Jeanne curiously asked.

"Her name's Izumi Curtis. She was the one who taught us more about Alchemy when we..." Edward cringed, "wanted to... you know..."

"Oh! I see," Jeanne quickly caught on to his surmise. "So she's an Alchemist as well then."

"Yeah. One of the best we've ever met, she saved our village from a huge flood when we were kids. We saw her alchemy and decided then that she would be our teacher," a fond memory in his golden eyes, "It's been several years since we've last seen her. She has no idea what we've done, so if we meet up with her again, it's gonna be a hard beating for us. But we got no other choice."

Alphonse, though was reluctant to see their teacher and frightened at the idea of how mad she will be once it is known that they've attempted Human Transmutation, he cannot find fault in his brother's reasoning and had to agree. On the other hand, it truly has been so long since they've seen their wonderful teacher, to meet with the woman who practically raised them after their mother passed away brought excitement in Alphonse.

Jeanne considered his suggestion, "An Alchemist would be helpful, their skills are on par with a Magus." Though what they need are Servants, fighters who are on par with Heroic Spirits, though she too can imagine the advantage of having another Alchemist with them that can manipulate the terrain to their liking.

"But I also don't wanna have to drag her away from Sig - her husband," Edward suddenly said, scratching his head. "Maybe getting her to join us isn't a good idea, but I still want to see her so that she can help us get better at fighting. In a few days, I want to take a train to her home town. We'll get together some things by then and rest while we can, is that okay?"

Jeanne approved with a nod of her head, "Yes, that will be fine. We all have to start somewhere anyhow."

He then looked to his Servants, "And are you guys okay with this?"

"We go wherever you lead," Archer said assertively before he added with a mild sass, "It's not as if we could actually decide while you hold our seals."

"Well, I'm asking anyway. It's not like you guys don't have a say in this too, and not like I shouldn't care what you guys think."

So you have said and shown before, Archer mused to himself. "In that case, I have no objections."

"Neither do I," Caster contently informs. "Now that we've discussed our next course of action, is anyone hungry for dinner? I could make something for us along with my new helper here."

The homunculus bowed her head in servitude. At Caster's mental discretion, the homunculus received his message and walked to the kitchen to prepare the utensils and food to apply cooking with.

"Before that," Edward interjects. "If it's true that every Servants has their real names hidden, then what are your names?"

He requested the Archer and Caster.

"Ah. Of course, we have yet to properly introduce ourselves to you brothers," Caster said as if an individual who occasionally spaces out and the like. It should be heeded that there are Magus who may read minds of those with little to no practice in magecraft, but so long as Caster is present, he won't let either Edward or his brother worry this.

"It would be rather silly that we devote our lives to each other at this time without even knowing our real names. I personally think so anyhow," Archer comments. "Very well, then I shall start. In my world, I am regarded with praise and applause. I am the man who has helped humanity take hold of the element that frequently attacks the earth from the sky. I who have given mankind the flash of light and entrap it in glass, what I wield and have control over in this gauntlet of mine."

He presented his gauntlet with a grandeur twirl to emphasize his point. Edward wanted him to simply get to the point.

"I go by Professor Lightning, the Modern Prometheus, either name is acceptable, but formally, I am Nikola Tesla. The man who brought lightning to humanity, and introduced them to the power of electricity!"

His gauntlet sparked and zapped between the fingers, a display of fireworks in the palm of his hand as he waited with a grin for their amazed looks to break out.

"Hey hey! Watch that! You're gonna catch that chair on fire!" Edward waved his hand at the man in demand. "I already just cleaned that whole mess in the bathroom, I'm not fixing the living room too!"

Hm. Some people just don't know how to admire or respect properly. Well, he should have expected this, but this was really more of a self-endearment for Nikola. The electricity went down, and Archer casually leans back into his seat, unbothered by the lack of reaction, apart from one individual.

"You invented electricity in your world?" Alphonse questioned him.

Pleased to hear interest from the younger boy, Nikola answered, "You could say that, though, for some ignorant and block-headed people, they would make the mistaken assumption that it was another man who has brought humanity electricity. Just as boastful to proclaim as if he invented the next wheel. When really he just likes to take all the credit and show off himself like some circus clown."

He muttered to himself, his words dipped in acid, "Well if he were in a circus, he would be better compared to a lion, whipped by the people's acclaim and shameless flattery into taking the center stage and shows himself off as if that was praise-worthy. Never met a man more audacious as him and that ugly beard of his."

"Okaaaay I think we're getting off-topic here," Edward decided not to let the man dwell further into whatever resentful figure he has in his mind. "You know, we have ourselves a guy who lived long ago that introduced Amestris to electricity. So excuse me if I'm doubting your story just a little bit."

"In another world. Don't forget boy," Nikola reminded. He saw Edward mumbled to himself, and chose not to invest himself in his disbelief, not that he cared to in the first place anyway. "I am, however, interested to hear of this man. I should look him up when I have the chance. Anyway, I've talked long enough. Caster, I believe it is your turn."

Caster bowed his head, grasping his hands together, "Thank you. I would never wish to compare myself to someone who brought lights that last longer than fire, nor do I think myself as an all great of a man. I'm only a simple man who's enthusiastic about researching the scientific wonders, studying my whole life with great passion in alchemy and magecraft, and dabbed into the world of medicine."

"You are too modest good sir," Nikola said. "For someone who has introduced Alchemy outside the Magus world, to heal people from what's considered to be impossible to heal from, and to be so open in informing the public the secret arts of Magecraft while healing the sick as an esteemed doctor of science. Good sir, you have set in stone what became to be modern medicine that later was picked up by other practitioners of medicines, doctors, and nurses. A man who has carved his name into not only human history but in magus history as well. Dear good sir, you take yourself too lightly that I would personally be offended in your place. But I digress, I just wish to express my gratitude for all the work you have done. It was partially due to your work that I created this gauntlet and by extension all of my other works. Truly, you have my thanks."

"I am humbled by your kind words, sir Tesla," Caster said. "And I am very grateful for them, all I wanted was to make an effort in having my work appreciated and practiced all around the world. To have that bit of influence which helped you in your pursuit of science. Oh but I am getting ahead of myself. At times I am referred to as the Father or King of Alchemy, which I must object whole-heartedly, for the real Father of Alchemy is one I took inspiration from and should have all the credit. My real name is rather long, and I'll admit, it is embarrassingly a mouthful, though I take pride in having it all the same. Anyway, in short, you may call me Paracelsus."

He smiled, the kindest and gentlest smile that could put a child to sleep, "Paracelsus von Hohenheim."

The room suddenly went still and became very quiet.

"...What?" Was all Edward could say. At the start, or perhaps more accurately, at Archer's introduction of the man he seemed to know very much, he was intrigued to hear more of this man. An Alchemist who seems to have done much - even though Edward has never heard of him nor could he simply accept the reason being that he is from another word. He listened with interest, that is until the man revealed his name.

"What?" He asked again.

"Y-you're... your name is... Paracelsus... Von Hohenheim?" Alphonse slowly said it out loud for himself, and it hit him this time. "Von... Hohenheim?!"

"Why the hell do you have that bastards name?!" Edward's sudden yell startled and confused the Caster, then he turned to the equally surprised Jeanne. "Why the hell does this guy have our lousy excuse of a father's name?!"

Jeanne opened her mouth, "...Eh?" She let it replayed in her head one more time, "Your father's name? You mean his name is the same as Caster's?"

"Not Paraselcus. Von Hohenheim!" Edward exclaimed heatedly, "What kind of a sick joke is this?!"

"I-I don't know! I never knew your father's name!" Jeanne said as she tried to calm Edward down. "Is it really... the same exact name?"

"Well, our father's name is pronounced Van instead of Von..." Alphonse said as he attempts to recover. "That... really took me off-guard."

"O-oh. In that case, this could just be a coincidence," Jeanne reasoned, "Or maybe since your accidental summoning happened without a catalyst, the Holy Grail had found Caster to be the best-matched Servant to pair you with due to whatever similarities you both may have, whether that relates to you, or someone else that you're related to."

Edward was not satisfied, or happy, at all. If the Holy Grail really meant for this to happen on purpose because his father's name was similar to Caster's, then his opinion of the grail had just sunk far below the line that he had long ago placed, and it was already that low, to begin with. You know what? Something in this universe has it out for me. Why paired me with a guy whose name is gonna aggravate me the whole time I'm gonna think about it!

"I have a general idea that you are not well associated with your father, I take it?" Caster asked the fuming young Alchemist, quite taken aback but not so perturbed that he wouldn't approach Edward out of curiosity for the boy's outburst.

Edward gave him a narrowed, yet blank look, "Uh, no. We're not really on speaking terms. In fact, we haven't really talked since he just up and left us and our mom when we were little kids and never heard from him again."

Ah. Parental abandonment issues. Paracelsus easily concluded, his heart goes out for the state Alchemist. He may be triggered unhappily by the mention of his father's name, or anything that sounds close to it.

He wanted to hug him there but seeing as how disturbed and furious the Fullmetal Alchemist has become, Paraselcus kept a safe and respectable distance. He can always give him comfort and understanding another time, once they are well-acquainted with each other.

"Don't be so unnerved, boy," Nikola calls to him as if talking down on a child about to throw a tantrum. "So what if he has the same name as your father's? Just call him Paraslecus or Caster and we can be done with the issue."

"Like hell I'm just gonna overlook this!"

"Maybe if you watched your mouth more often."

Jeanne held up both hands for both Edward and Nikola, "That's enough. Archer, please treat your Master respectively. Edward, I can understand your shock, but Nikola does bring a good point. Let's all just calm down, it wouldn't be a first that someone would share similar names here and then."

Though the coincidence was still rather astounding, nevertheless, Jeanne must bring appeasement to everyone. They cannot fight amongst themselves nor hold any grudge, especially over something so ridiculous and minor as a name.

"We are a team now, we shouldn't fight over small things. If there are any personal issues, then we can address them, work around them, and move on or we can just simply move on. We mustn't fight each other now of all times. I have a feeling that we'll be spending a lot of time together, so let's not make any pointless fuss or arguments, and if there ought to be one, then we must make an effort to resolve them or we shall have to deal with it together. Agreed?"

Jeanne's speech touched their better senses, and everyone came to calm. Edward was still annoyed, but he clammed up whatever deep-seated issues he had boiled over himself. Jeanne issues herself to have a talk with him later. Satisfied by their silence, Jeanne then addressed Paraselcus.

"Now then, you mentioned something about dinner Caster? I would very much like to offer you any help you might need."

Edward looked at her in estranged at her odd shift in mood. Well, she had just said that there must be an immediate effort to resolve their conflicts and move on, he'll be petty though and let it linger for a while, but he'll keep it to himself for now.

Paracelsus smiled, "I would be honored to have your help lady Jeanne. Does anyone have any request for what they would like?"

"I would like some Green Earl Tea, if there is any, otherwise, I shall enjoy whatever you may deliver," Archer smoothly said, standing up from his seat to reach for a book on one of the shelves nearby.

"I um... I could also help, if you want," Alphonse shyly proposed.

An inviting and warm expression from Paracelsus, "Why certainly. The more the merrier, as they say."

Edward, now overcome with sleepiness, saunters down the hallway, "I'm gonna take a nap. This whole day took it out of me way worse than last night."

"Then I'll wake you at dinner's completion. Rest well, friend," Paracelsus beamed at him. "Oh and don't worry about the second homunculus, I'll have it hidden elsewhere."

Edward moaned all the way to his bedroom and slammed the door behind him.

"...He certainly looks rather exhausted," Paracelsus noted, checking the clock and how it was not that very late. "I'll have him examined later. So, who wants to chop the onions."

"I'll do it," Alphonse volunteered. "It's better this way, since I won't cry no matter how many onions I chopped."

Saddened looks were bestowed by Jeanne and Paracelsus, Alphonse shrunk away, "Th-that was supposed to be a joke."

"O-Oh. Um, ahaha..." A minuscule and awkward laugh from Jeanne as she rubbed his cold, wide arm to appease the boy. "Right, then I'll get the pot. I'm thinking that we should make some stew. I remember a lovely recipe my mother made for me once with my father and... I-I'm sorry, I'm being insensitive."

"No no! That's alright!" Alphonse reassured instantly, "I want to hear more about it. It makes me look forward to tasting all the good and delicious foods again once I get my body back."

"Well... then, I will have to entrust you with the recipe when that time comes. I'm sure that you will love it."

"I know I will! I sure can't wait!"

A peal of genuine laughter broke out into the kitchen. Archer picked out a book that caught his interest and took a seat to enjoy its contents, listening to the clinking of armor, pans and pots as the discussion of the people inside fluttered. "Hm... I should visit a library, and find the name of the man who matched my exploits here in this world."

His brilliant mind only filled with meager thoughts, he enjoyed the rest of the afternoon in quiet reading.

---

The laughter of children. The peaceful afternoon. The communicative interaction between neighbors, between blood-families of race and red eyes that shimmered like a pair of rubies under the sun, blessed by their Ishvalan God, Ishvala. Blessed with homes, love, and friendship. Blessed with the gift of life given by their ever loving God. Blessed with their land, food, and water. Blessed with their history and awaited future, showering them with promising goods.

Their blessings were then engulfed in flames.

A sea of red and orange, burning an intense pain. Fire flooded their homes, their land, the burnt corpses of their families and friends. Had the sun fallen onto the Ishvalan people? Had their God come to punish them for sinful deeds unknown?

No. This was not God's work. It was the heathens. The murderers. The slaughterers.

It was those soldiers and their wicked art; their damned Alchemy!

"Brother! Brother!"

Red Eyes. Those shimmering red eyes, blessed by their God Ishvala, their shimmer of life gradually vanished as the souls enter the kingdom of God.

"Don't you die on me!"

Blue Eyes. Those horrid, soulless eyes, yet the carrier of these eyes walked the earth. Killing. Killing. Killing. Slaughtering the people, slaughtering his family.

"Come on! I'm the one who's supposed to look after you! I'm the one who's supposed to protect you!"

The laughter of the children was overlapped by the laughter of insanity. The maniac in grinning ecstacy. Everything he touched, it imploded, everything bursted into nothing but rubbles and remnants of body parts. They were already so unrecognizable with their charred up corpses. Which was the father? The mother? Where were the young neighbor twins? Or the elderly couple living in the house across?

They were killed. They were all killed.

By that wretched Alchemy!

"I won't let you die on me! Please live! Whatever it takes! I won't let you die!"

His arm burned in agony. The world, this was a memory. It was a nightmare, a nightmare he lived and witnessed. Someone clutched his mangled, charred arm, blackened down to the bone, sizzling with a nasty rotten smell, like overdone meat but was still raw with blood. He knelt by his body, grasping his arm that was beyond saving. But those eyes told him that he would be saved. And he was. Or rather, his life was preserved, but he himself was not saved, as he would later throw it away for his self-imposed mission that will inevitably doom him.

Red eyes brimming with life.

Red eyes brimming with hate.

Red eyes brimming with blood.

And there he stood in the midst of the destruction. Nothing but blood on his hands.

No one was saved.

No one was spared.

Nothing was left in this war of death and destruction but the sun that rained on him and all around him, lighting the display that was wrought to ashes, to broken pieces, to his shattered mentality by the damned practice of Alchemy.

Nothing was left but an endless rage that drove him from the depths of his misery, the corpses of his people.

Nothing was left.

But his revenge.

Scar awoke from his dream with a hitched breath, escaping the fire and smell of smoke and wretched crisped flesh that filled his lungs, burned into his mind as his homeland has. His body covered in sweat, his torso, and limbs wrapped in bandages, a wet towel over his forehead. His face scuffed with unshaven stubbles, scratches, and bruises that had been treated with clean water.

"You're awake!"

In the corner of his eye, he spotted a young boy, dark skin and white hair, with red eyes looking over him with innocent curiosity. Beside the boy was an elderly man, his complexion was the same, with a white long beard and little hair he had on his eyes. Though his eyes were small, Scar could make out those prominent red irises.

Fellow Ishvalans.

So there were survivors.

"Where am I?" He asked with a dry throat.

"There's no need to fret. You're among brothers and sisters now," the old man said.

Scar examined the room, barely craning his head to the side by just an inch and feeling the soft pressure of the pillow behind his head. It was an old shabby room, put together with some stone, wood, and rags.

"Who are you?" He asked the boy and elder.

"We are Ishvalan, men of Ishvala, just as you are son," the elder said as the boy moved away. "There's nothing to worry here, I won't sell out one of my own kind."

"Are there other survivors?" Scar asked.

The elder smiled, a slow nod, "Yes. Indeed there are. A run-down slum such as this may bear no resemblance to our ancestral home, but you know what they say, the world is God's bosom. Harboring of our God Ishvala, am I right?"

The boy brought over a cup that seemed to be molded out of mud, a thick paper pushed inside to hold the water. He brought it to Scar's lips, allowing him a sip of it.

His dried throat quenched by a little, he tried to forcefully push himself up to sit, "Yes, I suppose you're right."

"Wait! You can't get up yet!" The boy warned him, pushing the man back down with his little strength, yet it was enough for Scar's body to comply. "You were hurt really badly."

The old man nodded, "Yes. That much is true. It's a good thing you were found in that sewers while there was still a chance for you."

In the sewers... Scar's eyes widened, Ah. I remember now. I was running from the military when... those monsters attacked.

---

The bustle of Amestrian soldiers faded the farther Scar walked in these dark sewers. Rather than risk their lives foolishly by facing him upfront, it was likely that they intend to cut off all exits of these sewers. No matter if he were trapped, he'll simply make himself a new exit with the use of his right arm, an arm that was what's left of his family and kin as a whole. He will have those State Alchemists pay, one by one, he will cut them down mercilessly, as they have done so to the innocent victims of the war.

It would have been enough for them to kill all the Ishvalan soldiers, but for them to take the lives of those who had no part in the war? Murdering everyone who ran or shed tears that begged for their mercy, not for themselves but for their children, only for that to be denied cold-heartedly. His friends and family, their cruel deaths left Scar seething with rage, even after all these years, his anger continues to boil so hotly as it had the day he decided to embark on this journey that is certain to lead him to ruin. There was nothing to justify those murders, the Ishvalans had clearly surrendered, but they were butchered and set aflame as if to make an example. He will have the military answer for their crimes with the deaths of their State Alchemists. Even for his own sin that will deny him Ishvala's embrace, he will accept the penalty. For his fallen brethren.

Footsteps echoed ahead of him. Scar stopped in his tracks, the sewer water flowing calmly beside him. Heels clicked and filled the void of the tunnels as the wearer of those heels came into view.

"It's nice to meet you Ishvalan," a seductress tone left her dark silky lips.

"Who are you?" He demanded. She did not have the appearance of a soldier, nor did she had the demeanor of a civilian. In the dark, he was able to make out her regal figure, a strange symbol above her chest, and her face of flawless beauty, a face that sets him on edge. He knew at once not to trust this woman, there was a devious air about her that puts him on the defense.

Another figure came out beside the woman. A fat bald man with white, inhuman eyes. An abnormal smile as he licked his fingers in anticipation.

"It doesn't matter who we are," the woman said apathetically, raising her fingers. "What matters here is you, Ishvalan. Killing all those Alchemists and stirring up trouble. I think it's time we deal with you before you cause any more issues."

The fat man giggled, "I want to eat the Ishvalan! Can I eat him Lust? Can I?!"

Scar was disgusted by the creature, hardly recognizing him as a human, "I don't know who you are," he said to both of them, "but if you wish to fight me, then be warned, I'll send you both to face the judgment of God at once."

"Is that so? Then maybe you can tell him hello for us." She brushed her flowing hair aside, "Of course, the only God we acknowledge is the God that you aren't even close to being worthy of seeing him."

The fat creature's tongue drooped out, far too big for any human to have, a strange symbol at the base of it.

"Your power is interesting, but you are a nuisance. Sorry to say," She added sweetly. "But you'll have to die, Ishvalan."

With an excited yell, he suddenly pounces for the Ishvalan, covering their distance from each other in a short moment. Scar raised his hand, the teeth of the creature bare to take a bite. With a quick thrust, Scar latched his right hand onto his head, stopping him at the expense of considerable strength in order to keep the heavy creature at bay. With a swift activation, he performed Deconstruction, and the creature's head sparked, surrounded in smoke.

"Ouch! That kind of hurt!"

Scar was in disbelief. The creature with his hungry smile had his head still intact. What normally should have exploded, remained in one piece as a strange red spark crackled around the creature's face and in between Scar's fingers.

Impossible! He only thought to worry about there being weapons made out of materials that were outside his knowledge, a consideration he earned after his bout with the blonde girl and her sheathed sword, but even a weapon was a weapon all the same, this he asserts, and that he only needed to know the secret behind its making before he can truly destroy it. This, however, was a great turnabout. For this creature to not implode, it could only mean that his flesh was not human. That this creature is not human.

Scar jumped back. "What are you?" He looked at his hand that barely made any effect.

The corner of Lust's lips curved upwards. "Try not to play with your food too much, Gluttony."

"Okay!" Gluttony grinned widely, lunging for the Ishvalan once more.

Scar kept his distance. This thing, whatever it was, was not as agile as he was, but the creature held a great amount of power that destroyed the wall once Scar was able to dodge its second pounce. A sudden screeching noise came in front of him. He moved quickly. A piercing pain to his side, cut by a long, black sword-like weapon. He looked to where it was shot, following the long weapon until he met the sight of the woman again, the weapon extended from her fingertips.

"You must be more abominations of Alchemy," Scar figured out. "With monsters like you, there is no God to greet you after your deaths."

He heard chains rattling behind him. Kicking off the ground, he moved his head just in time for a silver dagger to shoot past him, his neck barely cut and avoiding a severe fatal wound. The dagger had a long chain attached to it, he grabbed it and attempted to destroy, light danced inside the tunnels, but his Deconstruction failed him once more. He whipped his head around, clutching the chains. A woman of long pink hair and a red-velvet mask over her eyes stood far behind him, in her hand was a second dagger, connected to another rope made out of chains.

Where did she come from? It was a pointless thought, what matters is the acknowledgment of his situation. He was utterly outnumbered, surrounded by monsters whom his Alchemy did no affect towards.

"Give no mercy, Rider," Lust tells the other woman. "He's far too troublesome to take with us. Kill him."

"Understood," Rider affirmed, and threw her next dagger. It was like a bullet was fired at him. Of course, Scar, for his speed, could dodge something that fast remarkably so. He ducked, his shoulder barely nicked. Gluttony pounced for him again, his mouth wide open to chomp the Ishvalan's head off. Scar gave him no such chance, gripping the chains, he had the gluttonous creature bite it, it pinged a terrible high-pitch sound and Gluttony yelped in severe pain to his teeth. Scar then quickly moved a small hoop that was large enough to trap the monster's head before Rider could pull her chains back. Just as she did so, her strength was a surprise for sure as she yanked it from Scar's grasp, but also bringing down Gluttony. He kicked the creature into the water, a splash that coated up to his waist.

Lust extended more of her piercing nails for the Ishvalan, all three fingers this time. He barely dodged her attacks, one stabbed through his side, the other pierced the surface of his right arm, and the third cutting his cheek. Blood spilled from his face and the other wounds staining his clothing.

He leaped away when a fourth nail was fired for his feet. "Now," Lust suddenly said.

His instincts warned him then. Just as he stepped onto the ground, Rider yanked and pulled her chains over to her head. A hoop from the chains connected to the first dagger that was thrown, it entrapped Scar's ankle in a tight grip, enough to crush his bones. She kept pulling, forcing Scar off his balance and fall onto his back, a growl behind his teeth.

With inhuman strength, she pulled along the chained scar before he could struggle, and dragged him to the wall. Without any way to stop it, Scar smashed against the concrete and broken chunks fell out. He coughed out in pain, blood broke out from his head, his ribs cracked. Rider pulled him by the chain, to the next wall causing the same effects and with more broken bones, then had him smash against the ceiling, rubble falling in streams. All the while, Rider had been pulling and pulling, until she had the Ishvalan close.

A final yank, she flung him over her form, and slammed him against the pavement. Her dagger was retrieved, she held onto its side, the man now at her mercy, which she will end with just one jab. Blood and saliva spat out from Scar, but even with this pain, his will overcame his injuries. He smacked his right palm against the ground, an explosion from his deconstruction that had Rider backed away. He forced his ankle free and bolted down the tunnel, opposite from the monsters. He was outmatched, his only other option was to escape.

He didn't make it far, his ankle that was trapped in her chains had been twisted, likely shattered from Rider's unrelenting strength. He fell onto the walkway, his body suffering from massive injuries. Consciousness was fading, his vision was getting dark.

"It's always such a pleasure having to see humans squirm so desperately," Lust cat-walked her way to Rider, handing the taller woman the second dagger. "Don't you think so Rider? The fact that humans would boast so highly of themselves but beat them down and they'll whimper. Beg. Scream out in agony. It always sends me shivers whenever I watch them struggle, even more delicious that I get to see them suffer at my feet."

Rider said nothing in response.

"Well, we all have our turn-ons. Anyway, that's enough fun for now."

Gluttony, at last, resurfaced, grabbing onto the edge to keep himself from sinking.

"Good. You're back just in time, Gluttony. We're just about to finish him. You can have his body once we're done."

A wide smile from Gluttony, bobbing his body in the water, "Oh thank you, Lust! I can't wait to eat him!" He starts getting out of the water as Rider approached the Ishvalan. The human was injured beyond easy recovery, escape is impossible for him.

Yet the survivor of the Ishvalan people would dare to defy. His mind clouded with pain, it remained focused with only one thing to fuel his will; anger.

"Vile abominations of God. I don't know what you're plans are... but you are just another reason why Alchemy should be destroyed," he heaved a heavy breath.

"Oh, that's right. There are some people who would also do this," Lust said, a smirk. "Humans who would yip out rebelliously, as if that makes a difference. Oh but I do love it, it makes the sight of them break down all the more thrilling to watch."

His bloody teeth clenched, his body shakes with his will to remain standing. If God wills it that he dies now, then may he take these wicked creatures with him. "I will not bow to you, nor break for your enjoyment."

His right arm tattooed with Alchemical transcriptions glowed slightly, a phenomenon that had not occurred before. Scar did not notice, however, his detesting glare focused on the monsters before him. "I will stake my life to reach my goal, even if it means that I should give my life defeating anyone that stands in my way!"

A burning press against the back of his right hand, energy swarmed his palm as he with a vicious look aimed for the ground.

Rider stilled, "Something's wrong." A familiar sensation that only occurred at a particular event when her Master's Father required more warriors to add to their hidden army. It couldn't be, but with this feeling, it couldn't be anything else. "Lust, stand back."

Lust frowned in confusion, "Wha-?" She was grabbed by the waist and was pulled away. Scar slammed the palm of his right hand to the ground, his mindset to destroy his surroundings, to bury this heathen existence in rubble even if he is buried with them. If he is to be killed then he will be killed while dragging his enemies to the fires of eternal damnation.

A blinding light burst from his hand, his tattoo glowing white, and a bright, dark color erupting from the back of his hand. With a yell, he sends forth his will.

A circle appeared below his hand, mystical symbols and Ishvalan letters spiraling, it snapped into several pieces, and the tunnel was enveloped in its radiance.

White blinding light, Scar lost all vigor and fell face-front onto the walkway. A strange warmth covers him, his right side was completely numbed. There was a brief loss of consciousness, but after a moment, he regained his senses for only a little bit longer.

The light died out in an instant, and suddenly everything was much darker than it was before. An effect of embracing the strange light? Or had Scar successfully brought forward his intention to destroy everything around him? A disturbed chill crawled underneath his skin, though his right arm remained unfeeling.

"What?!"

Shock from the dark seductress. He moved his head up by a little bit. Someone stood there before him. A sudden arrival of a stranger. With hazy vision, the stranger's appearance was somewhat made out. He wore dark clothing, hands in the pockets of his long coat, and some sort of apparel concealing his head. That was all Scar could comprehend seeing in his severely injured state. Where had this man appeared from? Since when was he here?

"That's not..." Staggering bewilderment in Lust's voice. "That can't be-"

"It is," Rider interjects.

"I thought Servants could only be summoned through a summoning circle."

"That's how it's supposed to be..."

The two women discussed amongst themselves, meanwhile, the stranger looked at his surroundings, slightly moving his head to the side, then below where Scar lay motionlessly. Scar stared at him in weary confusion, too drained to make a proper reaction, but he caught onto a particular physical feature, even in the dark, they were so distinct, they looked to be shining.

Eyes brimming with passionate red.

An... Ishvalan...? Was all Scar's thoughts could muster.

The stranger looked at him in surprise. He regarded the women whose behavior suddenly changed to that of caution, the confused fat creature who looked on with obliviousness, and looked back down at the brutally beaten man.

He sighed. A very unenthusiastic sigh.

"Oh great. Couldn't expect a better leash, especially a half-dead one..." A callous remark from the mysterious man before a brief dash of thought in his unreadable expression, "But then again... This may actually be the best-case scenario."

"What Servant are you?" Rider demanded.

A smirk so deviant, it had a cruelty to it. "Oh. Pardon moi, I haven't introduced myself. I used to have a name, I used to have several actually, but you can call me..."

He pulled out and showed his hand, reaching out to the evil creatures as if in kindness, but the compassion in his voice was empty. The world began to further blackened in Scar's view as he heard the name of his supposed rescuer.

"Avenger."

He heard a noise then, muffled by his losing consciousnesses, and then the warmth returns, but it was not in protective comfort. An intensity of heat that brought him back to a horrible memory.

But all he could think was of the man and his strikingly red, cold eyes.

---

That was all Scar could recollect before he blacked out.

"There was... a man with me."

The elder nodded, "Yes. He was the one who brought you to us. Is he your blood-brother?"

Scar looked at him, "He wasn't one of yours?"

The elder blinked. "Oh. It seems our God Ishvala has guided his mistreated children to cross paths. The work of our loving God for his lost people to help one another. It actually explains his strangeness to suddenly leave without waiting for your recovery. Though he did request and entrusted your care to us in every way we can afford. I only feel sad that he did not stay with us, we Ishvalans ought to stick together in these tough times. Perhaps you may meet him again someday, Ishvala be willing."

"Hmmm..." Scar merely sounded. Though that man had rescued him, there was something strange about him. An unease that he rarely would feel towards one of his own kind.

A short ounce of terror shot through him, he tried to feel it, but there was no use in forcing his body to move. He was drained from his energy completely.

"Is... my right arm still with me?"

The boy nodded, "Yeah. It's still here, see?" He pulled the sheets to reveal it.

Gray markings, a series of painted slashes, lines, dots, and strange symbols that crossed and swirled all around his right arm, muscled with years of training and fighting, using this arm for one purpose and one purpose alone. Such an unusual and complex design that looked to be mainly inspired by the Ishvalan letters the young boy's elders have been teaching him, and other symbols that he did not know the meaning of them, he was marveled by it all the same.

"That's a really amazing tattoo, mister," the boy said. "I've never seen anything like it."

"It was a gift," Scar told him. "A gift left behind by my family."

A family he will one day avenge. For all who had been unjustly killed in the war.

The boy nodded, wondering what kind of artist this man's family was. He grabbed a fresh wet towel and soothed the man's arm with it, cleaning all the lingering blood and healing wounds.

He rubs the towel down to the hand, washing over the three black symbols that made a picture of a flame at the base of it.

---

In response to the call of wrath and the anomaly that threatens all, he comes with only one goal in mind.

/.\

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

It's a new beginning of a new decade. Let's all do our best this year and hope for a wonderful life. For any troubles and issues we go through, let's take this chance to start anew for the sake of those we cherish the most, and better our lives and the lives of others.

Thank you so much for your support. Look forward to the next chapter! Take care!