Executioner
Caesar, a pale man with tightly curly red hair, auburn mutton chop sideburns and green eyes, came in to Mustang's staff room. Glancing at the paper in his hand, he said "Is there a Corporal Lebel here?"
"Over here!" said a black corporal with small rectangular glasses, waving at him.
He walked over to the conference table and sat down when the corporal pointed to a chair. There was a sheet of paper on a clipboard that looked like a sign-in sheet. That was normal. "I'm Sergeant Carcano." Make brief eye contact, then shift eyes away. Don't stare.
"Carcano?" Lebel asked, looking at the sheet.
"It's there." Caesar pointed, recognizing his name upside down. Brief eye contact.
"You're half an hour early," said Lebel and put a check by the name.
So, check mark, not sign-in. A normal variation. And the usual response to his being early. "I like to get my bearings when I go somewhere new," Caesar said, his standard response. Brief eye contact.
Lebel smiled and asked, "Since you're so early, could I get you some coffee or tea? Or water?"
Caesar paused. This was not usual. Lebel is a lower rank than I am. Lower ranking soldiers do sometimes offer to get things for those of higher rank without being asked. Go along with it? "I'd like water, thank you," he answered. Brief eye contact.
"You stay there, Corporal," said a somewhat overweight first lieutenant with reddish hair. "I'm going to get some more tea, so I'll get water for the sergeant at the same time."
That was wrong. Caesar felt his heart rate elevate and his breathing become shallow. Beginning of fear response. Deep breath. Hold it, two, three. Release slowly. This is okay, this is a new place, that's why I'm here half an hour early, to figure out these kinds of things. Get information. "Why is he getting water for me?" he asked. Brief eye contact.
"I know," said Lebel. "I wasn't used to it either. But that's what they do around here."
Caesar was both relieved to hear that his perception of wrongness was correct and anxious. It's okay. Any new place is going to deviate from my expectations to some extent.
Lebel was still smiling and the first lieutenant had smiled at him as well. Should he smile back? Smiling was tricky. Sometimes it turned out okay, but more often, he got it wrong – he could tell by the looks he got. He decided not to chance it. Smiling means 'friendly.' Say something friendly, he thought. "Nice weather we're having," he said. Brief eye contact.
The red-haired first lieutenant brought him a cup of water – "Thank you, sir," – then went over to a work table without requiring eye contact or any more conversation. Then a master sergeant – really young looking for a master sergeant – came by to be friendly and he made it through that – "I'm fine, thank you, master sergeant, how about you?" and brief eye contact. There was one other person in the room, with white hair like an Ishvalan and skin even paler than his own but without the ginger freckles, and Caesar wondered if he'd come over, too. He'd be out of his standard "friendly talk" soon. Maybe he could start over with the weather again?
But he was saved from having to figure that out by a second lieutenant who opened the door to a room across from the door he'd come into the staff room by. "Sergeant Carcano," he called.
Lebel handed him a folder. "Give this to the major," he said, and motioned to the door where the second lieutenant was standing.
Caesar handed the major his folder, then came to attention and saluted. "Reporting for my interview, sir." The major returned the salute and motioned towards the chair in front of him. Caesar sat.
"Sergeant Carcano," Miles said, beginning the interview, "I'm Major Miles, detailed from Briggs as commanding officer of the Ishval Relations Office. This is Little Brother. He lost all his relatives during the Genocide Campaign in Ishval. That is Second Lieutenant Havoc, under my command. He worked clean-up back then. You served in Ishval in 1908, is that correct?"
"Yes, sir," answered Caesar, making brief eye contact with the major. He was back on familiar ground. The posting was Ishval and he was particularly able to contribute because of his experiences there.
"Tell me about your war crimes from the Genocide Campaign, sergeant."
The term war crimes had only started to be used after Fuhrer Bradley had been replaced, thought Ceasar. Check that he was using the correct definition.
"Did I kill non-combatants?" he started. Then he lowered his head. These questions were going to take too much concentration to allow for eye contact. "Yes, sir. Do you define anything else as war crimes?"
"Killing prisoners or conducting medical experiments on prisoners." Miles noticed the man lower his head, not an unusual reaction to these questions in the interview.
"Understood," said Caesar, eyes still down. "I killed non-combatants, some of whom were prisoners. I did not conduct any medical experiments on prisoners. I killed any prisoners who came under my custody."
"Tell us about the non-combatants you killed."
"I killed the first group of non-combatants on February 22, 1908, in Gunja sector Whiskey Foxtrot 21 during the morning sortie. The adults consisted of two women, who appeared to be in their early twenties and one woman who was elderly. Other than the presence of extensive facial wrinkling, I could not estimate her age more closely. The children consisted of an infant, who appeared to be too young to hold its head steady without support, a female and a male, both of whom appeared to be ten or less, and a pre-teen male.
"The women and children were bound and sitting on the ground, but the infant was not bound. I killed it first, with a shot between the eyes from my handgun. This caused great distress among the others, especially the children, so I killed them next, in the same manner. I finished with the adults. Then I recovered the bonds from the corpses for re-use.
"I killed the next group of non-combatants on February 24, 1908, in Gunja sector Whiskey Foxtrot 25 during the afternoon sortie. The adults –"
"That's enough for now," said Miles. The man was still avoiding eye contact, which wouldn't seem suspicious, except for the emotionless tone of his answers. "Sergeant," he asked, "did you find that distressing?"
"Extremely so," Carcano answered, head still down. "That is why I volunteered for this posting. I thought perhaps I could help you find the remains for a proper burial. My memory of every killing is quite detailed. It could be useful. I may also be able to describe the victims in sufficient detail that they could be identified by kin or friends."
Havoc winced when the sergeant said 'extremely so,' in the same emotionless voice, eyes still lowered. He'd seen many men become numb after Ishval.
But Miles thought he could put the pieces together, now. "Sergeant, are you face-shy?"
"Yes, sir," Caesar answered. "It runs in my family and my home town."
"You have glasses, then, don't you?"
"Yes, sir," he answered. "But the last time I was in the military, they didn't like me to wear them indoors."
"You never served at Briggs, then, did you?"
"No, sir. Just in the east. Do they let you wear glasses there?"
"I often wore snow goggles at Briggs to hide the color of my eyes."
Caesar glanced up to see the major's face and his red eyes and then immediately lowered his head again. "Was Briggs a bad place to be recognized as Ishvalan?"
"Not particularly," said Miles. "There were quite a few years when it was dangerous to be recognized as Ishvalan anywhere in Amestris. Briggs was actually less dangerous."
"Face-shy?" asked Havoc. "What's that?"
"Sergeant, do you want to explain?" asked Miles. "That's a real question, not a polite command. I can explain it if you don't want to."
Really? That wasn't the way it had been in the military before, but people were used to clarifying such things for him in his home town. And this officer knew about the glasses. "Yes, sir," he answered.
There was a pause. Havoc looked like he was going to say something, but Miles held up his hand to stop him.
No one was talking. I said 'yes' so that means I should explain right away.
"I'm sorry, sir," Caesar answered. "You want me to explain, of course. 'Face-shy' means I have trouble reading the emotions on faces and showing emotion on my own face. I have learned to consciously make inferences from standard facial and verbal expressions, but it takes time, which can become noticeable. My voice, apparently, also does not change sufficiently with my emotional state. People tend to assume I have no emotions at all.
"I believe that in Ishval, this was the reason my squad leader reserved me for killing the women and children and elderly. I told him I did not wish to be reserved for such duty, but I was over-ruled. He ended up keeping me back from sorties, except to call me in for that purpose. That might be why I was never injured, considering that my combat skills have never been better than the minimum required."
"You weren't originally a combat soldier, then?" asked Jean, with an edge to his voice.
Caesar noticed the change in Havoc's tone of voice, to one he associated with anger. Why was the Lieutenant angry with him? He looked up, not to make eye contact, but to see if he could get any clues from his facial expression. He knew most people could tell things from eye contact, but it never told him anything. Havoc's face didn't look angry though. Neither did either of the Ishvalans. So he had probably mis-read the tone of voice. But now, he couldn't remember the question any more. He lowered his head again. "I'm sorry, sir, could you repeat the question?"
"Were you a combat soldier before you were sent to Ishval?"
The tone was back to normal. So they weren't angry with him. "No sir," he answered. "I was in logistics. I'm very good at estimating quantities, determining consumption rates, and ordering supplies. And I can do most calculations in my head. I like data."
"Sergeant, please wait over at the conference table where Corporal Lebel is." said Miles. "We'll call you in again a little later."
"The bastards turned a paper pusher who should never have left his office into an executioner," said Havoc roughly. "Because it made everyone else feel better."
"I still find it hard to believe he could talk so calmly about –" Little Brother started.
"Why?" Havoc interrupted. "I do it all the time, and I have to work at it. It's his normal expression."
"Havoc is right," said Miles. "We got men like him at Briggs from time to time. They like structure and following orders. They tend to be literal minded and very blunt in responding to questions."
"Blunt," said Havoc. "Like me."
"Worse," said Miles, with a slight smile. "And in much greater detail."
"They're often good at administrative positions dealing with numbers. The good visual memory is common, too."
"We could really use logistics guys here," said Havoc, "and this isn't a combat position. But he should never have left his office. You saw what happened when they made him. Is he too vulnerable to work here? This is a very difficult social atmosphere he'd be stepping into."
"Call him back in," said Little Brother. "Let's ask him."
"Sergeant," asked Little Brother when Carcano had come back in, "you realize that you will be working with people who were related to or friends of the people you murdered?"
"Yes, sir. I hope so. They are the ones who will help to identify the people I killed."
"That you murdered."
"Yes, sir. That I murdered. Should I use that word here? They dislike it most other places."
"They sure do," said Havoc. "Me too. It's a hard word to say."
"Was that a question, sir?" Havoc's tone didn't seem angry, but his words made no sense. Murder was the more correct term. Why would that be harder to say?
"Sergeant, look at me," said Little Brother. Then he said something else, but Caesar was so busy trying to make eye contact and parse the rest of his and Havoc's meaningless words, that he missed it. And then he noticed that he had missed it.
Okay, I better just say it straight out. Then they'll probably send me away, but I still have the written record and I can give them that at least.
"Making eye contact makes it hard for me to concentrate on your questions, which are making less and less sense. 'Murder' is not a hard word to say, so you're using some kind of metaphor or figure of speech I don't understand. And yes, of course, I'll be working with people who will know I murdered their kin or friends. That's why I volunteered. What is your point? And now, if you don't mind, I'm going to pace." And he proceeded to stand up and start pacing back and forth the length of the conference room, head still down.
"Why are you pacing?" asked Miles.
"I'm confused by these questions," answered Carcano. "That upsets me, which makes it even harder to figure out what you're asking. Pacing is one way I can calm down and clear my mind." Then he thought, Is this a polite order to stop pacing? "Do you want me to stop, sir?"
"No, sergeant," answered Miles.
Carcano continued to pace for a few moments. When it had gotten easier to think, he tried again to parse Little Brother's question.
"Sir, were you asking me how I feel about working with kin and friends of people I murdered?"
"Not exactly," said Little Brother. "I wondered how you would respond to their anger. Or if you would even recognize it." Carcano came to a halt in front of him and took up a position Little Brother recognized as parade rest, except with head slightly bowed instead of straight.
"Anger is easy to read in the face and tone of voice," answered Carcano. "For example, you have been angry with me during most of this interview, while the major and the lieutenant have not. My difficulty is normally determining what I have done to provoke the anger. In this interview, and in the case you are talking about, the provocation is obvious. It's not pleasant, but it is also not confusing, and my scripts for reacting to anger when I understand the provocation are usually very robust. Answering a display of anger with no emotion usually calms things down, although it can also lead to being asked to leave. I have also been hit or yelled at in the past."
"And you're very literal minded." said Havoc. "When I say 'kill', my emotional reaction is neutral. Killing is something a soldier, especially a combat soldier, is called upon to do. It's not pleasant, but it's not evil. When I say 'murder', my emotional reaction is… painful. That's why I said it is hard to say 'murder.' Not because it is hard to say the word, but because the emotional reaction is painful."
Caesar sat back down in his original seat in front of Miles. The questions, although unexpected, made sense. They were checking that they understood him correctly.
"So is mine, but for both words. I feel anger and disgust. I never killed before Ishval and I haven't since. And the only killing I have ever done was murder. I couldn't understand what the reason was and I couldn't believe there was no reason. But there wasn't."
"And he's sitting down and calm again," said Miles. "What do you think, Havoc?"
"Everyone needs a way to release the pressure," Havoc answered. "Especially around here. So pacing is how you calm down, sergeant?"
"Yes sir," answered Carcano. "Pacing is one way. Or I rock. Or I make other repetitive gestures, that people outside my home town find quite odd. Is that acceptable here?"
"Pacing is definitely okay," answered Jean. "I do it myself. And 'odd' isn't automatically a problem."
"There's not always enough room to pace," said Carcano. "And I can't let myself get run down like I was in Ishval before. I must be able to disobey orders, if necessary."
"Agreed," said Havoc. "I don't see why we can't work things out."
"Is that a yes, Second Lieutenant?" asked Miles.
Havoc nodded.
"Little Brother?"
"He certainly recognizes and handles anger well enough."
"Okay, sergeant," said Miles. "You're in. Give this folder to Second Lieutenant Falman. Welcome aboard."
Author's Note:
"Miles… you don't just have Ishvalan blood flowing within you, you have the blood of many other ethnicities. It appears to me that it's because of that blood that you view this country from a unique perspective." p161 The Ironclad Rule Vol 16.
I am assuming that because of Mile's background, and because he has more years in the Amestrian military, he has more experience with people of different backgrounds. I made up the term face-shy as the in-universe term for certain presentations of asperger's autism.
Caesar is listed as one of Hugh's subordinates in Ishval in Volume 15, Chapter 60, but his appearance is not based on any manga image. His last name is after the Carcano rifle, which was used by the Italian Army in both World Wars.