A/N: Mornin' here! This is another intrusion of mine in the FmA series, this time focusing on the Briggs dynamics.
I hope that you will enjoy it and I would really love to hear what you think about it. Please, leave me some feedback and thank you very much for giving this a shot!
Warnings, because they are needed – this is a work that will contain mature themes. This contains LivMiles (Olivier Mira Armstrong/Miles) and it is rated for all that comes with it.
Disclaimer, that thing we have to write every time for the obvious reasons – I don't own anything that has to do with Fullmetal Alchemist besides the plot of this fanfiction and the OCs that will appear. In rest, nothing at all.
And, now that I've made the introductions, let's get on with it...
Full summary, since it has way too many characters to be posted as it is - With his unexpected transfer to the Northern border of Amestris, Miles discovered that things were not always as they appeared to be, especially in the case of the seemingly unmovable commander of the Briggs Fortification, Major General Olivier Mira Armstrong. By the force of hazard, he unveiled the many faces of the woman no one saw as more than a brilliant statue covered in solid gold, shiny and beautiful, yet unapproachable and cold, always standing tall on top of her wall of ice and stone.
And, now that I've made the introductions, let's get on with it...
The Statue of Gold
Chapter One - The New Office
"North City! North City, coming up!" the old conductor announced loudly and left the wagon, wind gushing in as he closed the door to the compartment.
People started getting up on their feet, preparing to descend at the following station. Almost everyone disembarked there - it was one of the last stations on the line, after all.
The weather was rather chilly for an early day of spring, but in the North, it was always colder than in any other place. Amestris was a large country, summing up all the possible kinds of climates, from the scorching desert to the alpine scenery, but nothing could be compared to the great unmerciful land that went past the fairly cosy North City, the last large settlement before the extreme wilderness began. The few villages that were located in the said part of the nation were uninhibited during the winter, when the low temperatures could freeze the blood in the locals, not to mention in the unprepared wanderer.
At the station that came after North City, everyone inside the train went down the creaky metal stairs of the wagons and into the dry wind of the afternoon.
Well, almost everyone.
Only one person remained, a man well bundled in a dark great coat trimmed with white fur. He was sleeping peacefully with his cheek pressed against the cool glass of the window by his side, his feet resting carelessly on top of a leather suitcase.
Sometime during the trip, a few loose strands of the man's long, white hair had escaped from his high ponytail and slipped over his dark skin, creating a dazzling contrast even in the dim light of the wagon. His mouth was slightly agape and he snored softly, evidently exhausted from whatever he had been doing before embarking his ride.
The train eventually reached its final stop, yet the man kept on sleeping without a care in the world. Luckily, the conductor made one final check before ringing the bell to announce they could return to the depot at the other end of the line. The old railways worker smiled at the exhausted young man and gently shook his shoulder in an attempt to lull him out of the realm of dreams.
At once, the dark skinned man's eyes snapped open and his hand darted to his belt, where a white leather scabbard covered the body of a gun. The conductor patted his arm, hoping to calm him down. "Sorry to wake you up, son, but it's the last stop on the line," the old man said, trying to sound reassuring.
The passenger blinked, his red eyes so bleary that they could not focus a single image. His vision soon returned and he let go of his hidden weapon. "I'm so sorry, Sir!" he exclaimed apologetically and unconsciously grabbed the worker's hand, shaking it a bit too vigorously. He hastily retied his loose hair in a tight ponytail and grabbed his suitcase from the floor. "Thank you so much for waking me up, Sir, please excuse my reaction," he offered politely and tilted his head to the smaller man. "Have a good day, Sir," he added hoarsely and hopped off the train, his long overcoat swinging about his feet.
Out in the cold, the young man looked at his watch and instantly felt a vein throbbing anxiously in his temple. "Ah, damn it, I'm going to be so late!" he cussed. Squinting his unadjusted eyed, he measured up the mountain that stood proudly in the distance.
It was so goddamn far away!
He turned on his heels, his heavy boots surprisingly steady on the snow that was covering the station's refuge. Smiling kindly, he looked up at the old conductor who was preparing to close the wagon's door. "Excuse me, Sir, but is that the way to the military road?"
"You want to get to Briggs, ey?" the railways worker assumed, catching a glimpse of the young man's blue uniform under his heavy coat. "Yes, son, that's the road, right where you see the barbed wire up there. But you should be careful and only follow the path, it'll be night before you know it and these mountains, I'm telling you, are a dangerous business indeed."
"Thank you kindly, Sir," the officer retorted and smiled, his crimson eyes crinkling as he struggled to see in the whiteness that surrounded him from all angles. Even the sky was white over his head. Making up his mind, he formally saluted the old man and began making his way through the powdery snow.
The old conductor shook his head at the departing figure. "Poor fellow, not knowing where he's landed," he grunted under his breath and returned to the warmth of the train wagon.
Captain Miles, the train passenger, confidently advanced towards the sign that clearly read 'FORT BRIGGS' scripted in huge, red letters. That was where he was headed to, his new post for who knew how long. He snuggled better inside his warm coat and started pacing forward, passing into the military controlled land.
Not longer than a week before, he had been announced by his former commanding officer, one of the most incompetent men he had ever had the displeasure to encounter, that he was being promoted to the rank of a Captain. That had been brilliant news to Miles, who not only had graduated at the top of his class in the Academy, but also, in spite of his tender age, had effortlessly earned higher ranks because of his aptitudes. He might not have done what he would have liked at first, having to take part in brutal missions that hadn't made him particularly proud of himself, but soon after resigning from that position, he had found himself a good spot in another branch of the military that brought him a fair level of satisfaction.
Just when he had unwittingly formed the preposterous opinion that the army was finally appreciative of a keen mind and useful skills, he had stumbled into the most idiotic officer he could have found in the entire Eastern Command, a narrow-sighted dilettante with a warm place in the military that had been comfortably secured by his father, some General from the Central division. And that had been when Miles' surprising advancement through the ranks halted like it had been ran over by the train.
It took him surprisingly little to bother the pocket officer with his thoughtful remarks and helpful advice in the few missions he had managed to take part of before his career had turned for a downhill freefall. Miles might have saved actual lives with his ideas and suggestions, but his superior officer had instantly begun feeling threatened by his intelligence and decided to do what any fearful fool would do.
What, one might ask? Cut Miles loose, of course.
With a few well-aimed tips, the incompetent superior had managed to get rid of his bright subordinate, whom others had liked quite a lot. And, above all, they had all respected him.
Well, so much for that.
That was the sad little story about how, along with his much deserved promotion, Miles had received a letter which announced him he had been reassigned to Fort Briggs, all the way up North, where the Devil himself ruled the bloody hinterland.
Some contested his impromptu relocation, and surprisingly, the loudest had been a certain Lieutenant General Grumman, who had been determined to have Miles transferred to his base in the East City. Naturally, the Central Command hadn't even acknowledged his proposition. It appeared that the quarter Ishbalan officer had stepped on some serious nerves.
As much as he felt flattered that another high ranked official had tried to snatch him once he had become available for transfer, Miles was not all that happy with his new position. He had been promoted, alright, but what would be the real price for his big mouth? He had heard so many stories about Briggs, one more terrifying than the other, although what scared him the most was something that had nothing to do with the harsh landscape or the potential frostbites.
No, what made the stories about Fort Briggs so horrifying were not, by any means, the weather or the generally nasty conditions - it was the place's commander. First of all, it was a woman, something unheard of throughout the entire Amestrian military. Not that it made any difference to Miles, who had always known how to act with all kinds of persons from both genders. But the sound of her matched to no one he had ever encountered.
So far, Miles had heard the wildest things about her, and he had no idea what to make of her before having to meet her in person. He did not know what to expect, even.
Facts attested that Major General Armstrong was ridiculously young for her position, especially for someone who was not a part of the National Alchemists programme. She was the heir of an old, noble family that could boast with both impressive achievements and vast fortunes, along with connections that surpassed the borders of the country. Half-spoken rumours even suggested that, if Amestris had not been a stratocracy, her family would have been monarchs. But really, who could really verify that, when so little was known about the nation that had once inhabited Amestris' land.
What was certain was that the Major General was of pure Amestrian descent, her ancestral blood untainted by any other populations for as long as anyone could remember.
Some swore that she was quite lovely to the eye and that she had that certain something that could turn any man's head around. Others implied that she was actually more like a man than a woman, terrifying anyone only by looking at her. However, what most people agreed on was that she was a ruthless character and terribly frigid, almost inhumanely so. And what was the worst, all this bad mouthing had its incontestable fundaments, even more certifiable than her respectable ancestors.
In less than two years after she had been assigned to Briggs – where Miles supposed that she had landed because she had angered someone, just like him – Armstrong had not only advanced ranks alarmingly fast because those above her had died in stupid accidents or had been discharged for various reasons, but she had also become the commander of one of the most dangerous posts in the country. She had literally sent the former commanders from her short time as a lower ranked officer in caskets, followed by the simple annotation that they hadn't been prepared to face the North.
No one had dared to imply that she had had a hand in the suspicious circulation of commanders. It was a well-known fact that some just don't survive serving in the extreme North. Moreover, ever since she had received the supreme position, Fort Briggs had turned into a properly oiled machine, well-tuned and very efficient.
The fort had passed through a bit of a difficult period not too long before Armstrong had arrived there, all due to improper restructuration and administration. However, in less than a year as a commanding officer, she had successfully transformed Fort Briggs back into the greatest fortification there was in the entire country. After that, the fort's reputation had only escalated.
Naturally, those who bothered their superiors were still being sent there from time to time, but the quality of the training and the security of the land had increased exponentially, just like it had been before it had lost some of its shine. If not better, many reckoned.
Fort Briggs, with the Armstrong commander, was truly a force to fear.
Miles admired her for that, but he wasn't sure how well he would adapt to working with her. She didn't sound like one to pat another's back and tell them all would be fine – which, for some reason, he thought he might want to hear in that frozen hell-hole.
Musing about his situation, the young Captain walked forward, careful not to lose the barely visible path. The conductor's words rang truth inside his head, seeing that the night was indeed slowly creeping up and it was getting harder to see. However, his drive was not diminished neither by darkness, nor the perspective of hardship.
The previous week had been infernal for him, as he had had to leave his work in order, although his slumber in the train had worked wonders on his state of mind. He was confident that he would survive even the harsh female commander, as long as he stayed positive and did his best. After all, the spirit was tougher than the chain.
His confidence started to waver when the night fell in full force and the wind began picking up alarmingly fast. Before he could face anyone and prove he was worth his beans, he needed to get to the fort. He was surprised that no one had waited for him at the base of the mountain, but he guessed that was all part of some elaborate assertion of character.
Or hoped so. He liked thinking that someone was waiting for him somewhere, and that he was not just making his way blindly through the snow.
Sniffing from the cold, the Captain took out his flashlight and advanced, using his knowledge about the desert's sand on the snowy road. It was amazing how similar they both were. He had spent some of his childhood in Ishbal, where he had walked the extensive dunes from top to bottom, earning a telltale experience with powdered grounds and the likes.
After what felt like an eternity and some centuries later, Miles caught a glimpse of a huge wall that formed the fortification. It was quite an impressive sight, the grand structure standing tall and proud at the Northern border of the country.
He soon reached the front entrance, guarded by a brick barrack. The door opened at once and a huge man ducked under its frame. "Heavens up above, mate, what you're doing out so late?" the stranger asked expansively, albeit not sounding awfully surprised. Almost like he was expecting to see him.
The man pulled Miles inside with a claw of the size of a shovel. "Are you daft or something?"
Miles shook his head and raised his arms. "Hold it there, officer! I was told to arrive here today, so I arrived here today."
"Ah! You must be Captain Miles, ain't you?" the huge soldier assumed. Suddenly, his face twisted into a huge grin and he patted him on the shoulder, feeling more like he was trying to dislocate it rather than anything else. "Good to meet you, Sir, I'm Lieutenant Buccaneer! The Major General requested for me to wait for you."
"Here?"
"Well, evidently, Sir," Buccaneer retorted, his wide grin beaming in the electrical light. "I've only followed the queen's orders. She said she wanted to see if you can find your way here. Seems to me that you could, huh," he commented with a little shrug.
Miles watched the large officer with barely concealed incredulity. That was quite the welcome, having to make his way blindly to the middle of nowhere. He wondered if that was a customary rite up there or if it was just his case. He hoped the former, because if it was the latter, he had something else coming onto his plate.
"I'll take you to the commander, Sir, you just follow me," the Lieutenant continued and motioned towards another door. He waved at the other soldiers in the barrack and went inside the fort.
Miles followed him, shivering as he was slowly adapting to the change of temperature. Outside, it was cringingly cold, though inside, it was bearable. Once his body got used to it, he dared notice that it was actually pleasantly warm.
He fell into step with the large Lieutenant, whose long braid swung behind him with each step he took. The loose end was tied up with a small pink bow which wasn't very well done, but it definitely stood out like a sore thumb. The imposing man did not wear any gloves, preferring to hold the pair in his breast pocket. Miles noticed that one of the other's hands was made of automail, but he didn't think it would be kind to ask how he had gotten it.
Clenching and unclenching his jaw, the Captain settled with trying to learn more about the fort's ways. "So, Lieutenant, I've noticed you've called the Major General a 'queen'," he pointed out. "Is that her nickname?"
Buccaneer chuckled, shaking his head. "Aye, Captain, you'll soon find that out for yourself, we're almost there."
As it turned out, they were nowhere near 'almost there'. The fort was humongous and it had so many corridors and doors looking identical, it was impossible not to get lost. Miles carefully made a mental map of all that he was seeing. His visual memory was fairly good, fortunately, as it seemed that he would have to make good use of it really soon if he wanted to find anything in there.
After a long journey through the bowels of the fort and up its many stairs, they reached a double door that read 'Office' and nothing else. Buccaneer knocked and a voice replied monotonously, "Enter."
Inside, behind a cramped up desk, a blonde woman was writing in a thick register, her right hand moving with lazy elegance. She did not look up from her papers, but she acknowledged their presence with the cocking of her neck.
"I've brought Captain Miles, Sir," the Lieutenant told casually and pointed to the other man.
The woman stopped her scribbling and glanced up at once, her visible eye so blue it could have matched the clearest of skies. "Ah, Captain, so good of you to join us," she made in a levelled tone and turned her gaze to the Lieutenant. "That would be all, Buccaneer, go check on the idiots with the icicles," she added evenly.
"Yes, Sir," the huge man retorted and left the room after saluting with the back of his hand.
That left Miles and Armstrong alone in the office, along with a great deal of nerves from the man's side.
The Major General was very different from what Miles had imagined. She didn't look anything like the manly figure he had, for some reason, envisioned. On the contrary, she was a short, young lady with long, overflowing blonde hair, curled at the tips but otherwise pretty straight. Her skin was very pale and her lips were enticingly full, yet he highly doubted that she was the kind to enjoy being complimented about her appearance. She was nice to look at, that much was obvious, but she had a deadly glint in her cerulean eyes.
Those eyes didn't sparkle right to him.
Armstrong put her elbows on the tabletop and lowered her head on the back of her gloved hands, watching him critically. She appeared to be examining him, and she did it rather clinically.
The intense stare was starting to get uncomfortable, but Miles bravely stood his ground. After a few still moments, the Major General leaned back on her chair. "So. You are the Captain who had upset the Command," she said with a tinge of mockery in her low voice. "I see, then. Very well, Captain, I must admit - I'm impressed that you've showed up this evening. I thought you'd stay in the city until morning."
"I followed my orders," Miles responded curtly. "Sir," he added her appellative after a brief pause.
Armstrong let the smallest huff of air. "Ah, good, you're perceptive. So, Captain, tell me," she addressed him, "do you know why you're here?"
Miles straightened and clasped his hands behind his back. He looked straight into the woman's eyes, a daring gesture, but necessary if he wanted to make a good impression. She seemed to appreciate that, because she let out a little chuckle. "You do know, then! Well, Captain, it seems that you have bothered some higher-ups, and that is exactly what I am looking for."
"Indeed?" he inquired, a little confused.
"I've been looking for someone capable for a long while, and when I've heard about your case, I knew you'd be the best man for the job. Your determination to get here in this weather won you some valuable points and I reckon you will fit well in here," Armstrong continued. "Captain Miles," his name rolled out through her lips almost mockingly, "how would you like to be my assistant?"
His red eyes flinched. The woman was clearly mad. She knew nothing about him, but she wanted him to be her assistant. He doubted that was the way things worked, no interview, no nothing. "Sir, I'd be honoured by the proposition, but-"
"I don't care by what you're honoured and, I'll have you know, Captain, I don't take buts," she cut him off. "I have no time to waste on them. I want to know if you think yourself capable of being my helpful hand. I believe you're aware that here, you are the highest ranked after me, but I have no problem with trimming the lines. And what I want now is a decision. A fast decision." She put her chin on the back of her hand. "I will ask you again, Captain - are you up for the job, or not?"
Armstrong talked very certain of herself, making Miles believe she knew more than she let. For some reason, he sensed her steely gaze could read into his mind and he suddenly felt interested. His new place would be challenging, to say the least, but he was sure he was more than ready for it. He had no idea what it would entitle or what he would have to do, but he could learn how to play that game on the go.
"Now, Captain, your answer?" she demanded coolly, fixating him under her electric gaze.
Miles nodded once. "Yes, Sir, I accept the offered position."
The corner of her lips curled up slightly. "Good," the Major General concluded and returned her attention to the papers under her elbows.
It wasn't hard to understand why Buccaneer called her a 'queen', not when her presence oozed all that power concentrated in such a small frame. Miles didn't know what he had gotten himself into, but he felt that his intelligence was going to be appreciated at its true value.
At last, a real challenge.
A/N: Ta-da! This is the first chapter and I hope that you've enjoyed it. Please let me know what you thought of it, I really appreciate feedback.
If you are interested, I have written other stories with this pair. You can check them on my profile. Other than this, thank you very much for reading!
Until the next time, bye-bye!