A few days later, Grand granted Mustang a week's leave. Roy was surprised after getting yelled at by the Colonel not a week earlier. However, if Basque Grand suspected Mustang's "research leave" was because he was beginning to crack, this may have been his way of giving the young Major a break. Though Roy had long ago decided the Iron Blood Alchemist was utterly without compassion, Basque Grand did care for his dogs well, especially his prized fighters like Mustang and wanted them in top shape for battle. Either way, Roy was ecstatic and presented his papers to the first convoy going west and hitched a ride into Ishbal City.
Ishbal City wasn't its real name. To the Ishbalans it was some string of unpronounceable syllables in their own odd language, but no one in the military had bothered to learn it. The city had been the capitol and most holy site of their nation, and after seven years of war, it was the closest thing remaining to civilization in that desert. The other cities had largely been destroyed by the military and were deserted. What few civilians escaped had fled into Ishbal City where they had little trouble finding places to live in the many empty houses.
Much of it had been razed and was now merely rubble and it was a shadow of its former glory but the city still barely functioned, largely due to the military wanting to maintain it as the headquarters and main base of operations for this "expedition" as they called it. With soldiers everywhere, the people had been mostly pacified and conflict within the place was rare. While deployed out here it was really the only place for soldiers to go for a leave.
Mustang checked into the officer's temp quarters when he got there, built on top of an ancient Ishbal temple that had been destroyed in the first days of the war. He stripped off his epaulettes and all other insignia from his uniform so no Ishbalan would know his importance and take him hostage. He kept his pocket watch just in case he needed to prove himself, or intimidate someone.
Though he didn't like to carry a sidearm, the regulations required he had one with him at all times when he was around Ishbalans so he slipped it into his back holster. Finally, though there were very strict rules about when and where he could use his alchemy, he took his gloves with him just out of habit.
Even before Ishbal had become an infamous and hated name throughout Amestris and was just a small nation off in the east, the Great Ishbal Market had been famous. Sitting on the border between the two great nations of Xing and Amestris with traders from both, and showcasing Ishbal's renowned artistry and craftsmanship, the Great Market had been unequalled anywhere in the world. A massive, bustling place taking up most of the city's heart the area was always busy and nearly any import from Xing to Amestris or vice-versa had come through the legendary marketplace.
The market was mostly deserted now, save for a few of the biggest businesses that had managed to weather the war in their shops and some traders who were too stubborn to move. With starving gangs roaming the streets, every other trader had gathered on a couple of streets in a corner of the market place that was nearly fortified. Mustang walked through the market after he had settled into his quarters, having just been paid the week before. The prices were astronomical from the cost of importing things through a war zone and the shoppers were mostly soldiers and wealthy traders that would simply ship their purchases off and make even more money. Mustang bought a kimono made of Xingjian spider silk for his mother and an ivory hand crafted Ishbalan pipe for his father.
As he wandered among the Ishbalan shopkeepers, he felt as though he was in a zoo. Every Ishbalan he had ever seen had been in battle, and they had only been blurry glimpses as they moved fast to try to kill him or escape. He only ever got a momentary glance before his instincts took over. All that had ever stuck with him were their eyes. Especially when they were in his war zone and fires burned everywhere, their eyes had almost glowed red, full of anger, fury, and desperation. They had seemed frighteningly unreal.
It was difficult to remind himself that these too were Ishbalans in the marketplace. Their eyes were different, like those of any person he might have met back in his hometown, except perhaps full of sadness. They looked mostly at the ground and rarely made eye contact with him. They were truly different people, cowed, broken; all of their spirit and will to resist was gone.
It seemed that this was not Ishbal. These weren't Ishbalans, not anymore. Though their enemy still lived, it was not among these poor people. Ishbal itself had been driven out into the desert and hid wherever it could in this country. Only there its spirit still survived though it died a little each day. It had left the people in this marketplace. They were Ishbalans no more.
Nightfall seemed to bring relief to the city. It cooled, though the heat of the day's sun still radiated from the stone of the buildings pleasantly, keeping it from freezing. Darkness hid the fact most of the buildings still standing were gutted inside and empty. In the night they were merely dark like their inhabitants had gone to bed. As a security measure, the military had repaired the streetlights along the main thoroughfares which had been cleaned up. The people, Ishbalan and soldier, tended to stick to these routes which made it seem like they were in a bustling prosperous city. In the alleys, the poor were hidden in the darkness and the city seemed almost pleasant.
What had once been the rich and fashionable part of the city had been rebuilt by the military and many of the old upscale bars, clubs, and restaurants were open again although they catered now to poor and drunken soldiers on leave. Singing and dancing of soldiers drifted out of the buildings into the night and made Roy Mustang smile. This place almost felt like Gin Avenue outside the barracks in Central.
Roy flashed his pocket watch to a guard outside an officer's club that occupied what was once an old Xingjian restaurant and grabbed a couple free drinks. Most of the other officers there seemed to be stationed in the city and Mustang got the impression that this was a nightly destination for a lot of them. Their uniforms were clean and pressed, they were well groomed and all looked (and smelled) like they had bathed that day.
Roy had set out to explore the city as soon as he was settled into his quarters and now felt self-conscious as he sat at the bar. Despite the fact he was wearing his "good" uniform, it hadn't been washed in a couple months. It was wrinkled and covered with a fine layer of dust and sand so that you could easily see the outline of clean blue cloth where Roy had removed his epaulettes and insignia earlier that day. His face and hair was dusty and he hadn't cut his hair recently so it was unkempt and hung down over his eyes.
The female officers were beautiful and all seemed to be taken the moment they set foot in the club. There were other women (barely) dressed in civilian clothes that flitted around the club and whose purpose there was obvious. They all had Central accents and lacked the red eyes of Ishbalans and it seemed that they had been sent out into the desert here to keep the officers company.
Roy felt a pang of bitterness and cynicism as he sat there and they ignored him. In his rumpled uniform and dirty appearance he felt like a child among men that had gotten his clothes messy from playing outside in the dirt. Eventually, as the women and other officers ignored him, the fresh-faced Major with the unkempt uniform slipped out of the club and into the night.