I
Edward Elric watched the sun as it slowly descended behind the clouds. It seemed to follow him as the train he was traveling in passed by a small town and chugged its way into a mountainous stretch of land. If his brother Alphonse, who sat across from him, could demonstrate any emotion with his face, he would be looking at his brother with some concern. "Brother?" he asked.
"Yeah?" replied Ed, his voice dragging.
"It's there something wrong? You've seemed kind of out of it lately." Ed turned slowly to his brother.
"It's nothing. I'm just tired is all." he replied. Tired. That was a word that had lost all meaning to Al so long ago. "The military is a real bitch. How many times how we been on a train this month?"
"I haven't kept track."
"That's exactly it. Mustang keeps handing down these assignments that require weeks of traveling and a bare minimum of work. It's starting to wear on me."
"But what can you expect with what's going on right now. Drachma made those threats that they would
Alphonse looked at the window along with his brother. The sun was giving off its last rays of light and a cooling darkness was slowly descending across the rural countryside. "Yes. I suppose it would courteous if he could at least make it worth the trip."
By the time they arrived back in Amestris, it was past midnight and Edward was already asleep. The station was basically empty, save for half-a-dozen or so armed soldiers as well as Colonel Roy Mustang and Major Maes Hughes. Alphonse walked down from the train, carrying the limp body of his brother. "Out like a fucking baby." commented the Colonel as he looked down at the boy.
"Give him a brake Roy. He's fifteen."
"He's also a state alchemist. Is it too much to expect a little poise from him?" The colonel reached over and smacked the golden-haired boy with the back of his hand. The young alchemist grunted and stirred. "Of fuck it. Bring him back to the office and we'll wake him up there."
XXXXXXX
Captain Nicolai Mensk and General George Maxwell walked slowly down a curved cobblestone street, their overcoats hanging loosely from their shoulders. A platoon of Drachman soldiers in their sharp black uniforms and jackboots marched down the street, their feet like a beautifully precise ballet as they beat the cobblestones. The two officers stopped as the platoon passed by and slowly followed it. "A sign of things to come?" commented Nicolai.
"More like a guarantee." replied George as the two walked into a small white-washed building from which hung a finely carved wooden sign bearing The Birch Tree Café. A small bell rang and the two officers found a nice corner table where they both seated themselves. A waitress brought them their usual pitcher of coffee and two cups so they could help themselves. "Think about it. In two weeks, Ishbal is going to be just like any other part of Drachma. We'll be able to walk through the desert and still feel at home."
"I'll drink to that."said Mensk as he raised his coffee cup. "But you know as well as I do that Amestris won't take this sitting down.
"When have they ever been so cooperative?" joked the senior officer. Like you said, those troops outside are a sign of things to come. That reminds me." Maxwell reached into his coat pocket and fished out a letter, handing it to the captain. "Congratulations, Major." he said rather non-chalantly before taking a drink.
"A promotion?"
"Yep. You know as well as I do that you're the only artillery commander with any real balls in this army. When we annex Ishbal, you'll be in charge of the 31st artillery division. They want you to take charge of the first defenses in the event that Amestris declared war." The newly promoted major finished his coffee and looked back down at the letter.
"What an honor."
XXXXXXXX
Fuhrer King Bradley stood on the balcony of the Fuhrer's palace, seemingly counting the stars. He was more apprehensive than usual, and didn't smile as much as he normally did. There was a mild knock at the door. "Come in." he ordered softly.
"Fuhrer, the joint chief's of staff are here to see you." said the young lieutenant.
"Good. Send them in." the King replied without turning around. Four men in military uniforms walked slowly in succession into the room and stood stiffly at attention as their leader turned around. They all saluted, and Bradley returned the present arms. "Gentlemen, have a seat." The Fuhrer sighed and stood in the center of the four of them. "I'm going to be very blunt, my generals. The situation right now is very delicate. This whole continent is a powder keg waiting to go off, and Ishbal is the match to light the fuse. We must be careful with our demands if we want to avoid war."
"Forgive me for saying, Fuhrer, but I think at this point, war has become an inevitability." said one of them, General Robert Enos.
"We're inclined to all agree." interjected General Jack Snyder.
"If Drachma is unwilling to give up its annexation of Ishbal, we may have no choice. That's key territory that could open a road directly into Amestris." commented Lieutenant General Rickson Geary. "They've made it very clear they're not willing to negotiate any further."
"Well, that's why I've called you here. What course of action do you suggest we take?"
"I think at this point, an ultimatum would be our only chance of salvaging diplomacy." The Fuhrer nodded then rang a small button on his desk. The door quietly opened. "Yes sir?" asked his adjutant.
"Samuel, I need you to take down some notes."
"Yes Fuhrer." The Lieutenant brought out a small pad of paper from his interior jacket pocket, and a pen in his left hand.
"To the proper diplomatic authorities of the Kingdom of Drachma." he said. The pen scratching could be heard lightly in the silent room. "It has come to our attention that the annexation of Ishbal as a new territory of your government would be a blatant violation of the sovereign rights of that nation. In addition, the annexation presents a clear path of invasion to Amestris. If the annexation is carried through, our government will have no choice but to deal with it in a manner appropriate to the circumstance of it being a potentially hostile action." Samuel capped his pen.
"Will that be all, Fuhrer?" he asked.
"For now. Take that and make sure it gets to the Drachman diplomatic mission by tomorrow."