AN: Happy Day 2 of Royai Week 2022!
This chapter will pick up from yesterday's entry.
Hope you enjoy!
Betrayal
"Are you sure about this?" Riza said, even though she knew it was as good as sand in the middle of the desert.
Rebecca had suddenly dropped incognito in the middle of the day and pulled Riza into a sealed room with Colonel Storch, who was reinstated as the Fuhrer's personal aide when her grandfather took the position. She ignored the knot in her stomach, eyeing her companions. Why is Roy not a part of this meeting?
Her grandfather was their only common denominator, seeing as her best friend had quit the military and was now working with Madame Christmas and her underground network. Without preamble, Rebecca laid down a picture and handed her a thin stack of documents.
Between her and Storch, they quickly and efficiently explained that a group of Amestrians, mostly from the West and South, have started a campaign to rewrite the events of the Ishvalan Extermination in order to romanticize it — a civil war that the Ishvalans had brought upon themselves and wherein the Amestrian military was successful.
At the helm of the movement was General Boeing Martin, the son of an ex-general who was well-known to have tortured Ishvalans at the height of the war. General Martin now painted the image of a devoted and loving son who missed his dead father, treasured him in loving memory, and hated the 'rumors' perpetrated by those who wanted to see his family legacy burn.
"They have used disinformation as a weapon," said Storch.
Rebecca looked ready to explode. "How can his family legacy be more important than the truth? I thought we got rid of these fuckers."
He tapped on the table to keep the conversation in focus. "The Martin family is as influential in the South as the Armstrongs are in the North. It's nothing past the South… yet, but their grip on the region is chilling and the protests have started to turn into riots."
"It's only a matter of time before the riots start spreading."
She frowned at the image before her, focusing past the rioting men and flying debris to notice that the clash was happening in the middle of a schoolyard. "Protests at a school?" What happened to the children?
"They've switched out the textbooks to depict that the Ishvalan War of Extermination was a victory for the nation… and that one of the biggest contributors to said 'victory' was General Martin's father."
Riza eyed Rebecca's puffed face. "Oh? I do hope the names of the Ishvalans he'd tortured and butchered were on there as a tally of his victories."
Despite the inelegant statement, Storch slapped his thigh in an attempt not to laugh. Their nerves were frayed with tension and Riza knew the crux of their visit hadn't even been revealed yet.
He continued, "With the switched textbooks and their hold on the South, newspapers have started to publish varying degrees of revisionist propaganda. Some have even gone on to publish that things like this," he pointed at the riot in the schoolyard, "are all because the Ishvalans have wronged the Martin family for 'the last time'."
"The Ishvalans?" She could hardly believe her ears. How could a group who had been all but wiped out by her countrymen, banished from their homeland, have had anything to do with the Martin family?
"They need a scapegoat if they're to remain at the top of the food chain they've created."
"How long has this been going on? How can they have fended off an entire region right under the military's nose?"
"General Martin used to work under Klemin, before he was tried for treason, so the military connections embedded down South had a handle on that. Then with the resources their family already has from robbing, extorting, and torturing Ishvalans during the war and all its kickbacks under the Bradley regime —"
"Then we went ahead and staged a coup on behalf of the citizens?"
Storch nodded. "The confusion that followed allowed their family to rise like royalty with the general seated as the head."
She flipped through the documents. "How bad is it?"
"Bad enough that this one photo had to be taken by a sniper before his face got smashed in." He laid down the overtaking of radio stations and Southern newspapers, the presence of armed men (a mix of military and hired shooters paid by the fascist family) roaming the streets, and enforced disappearances.
"One of the snipers hired to do surveillance in the area has failed to report in over 48 hours, which begs the question: what about the civilians who have done protests over the past months?"
"We have no estimate? A list of names reported?"
He shook his head. "With their control over the area, there is no way of getting information out without getting in."
"They've sealed off the South?" How could they have let this slip? Riza grit her teeth, hoping against all hope that she was wrong. "Surely someone would have noticed General Martin's movements by now."
"They've sealed it for civilians. We believe they're trying to gain enough control of the South first before launching an all out stance against the rest of the Amestrian military." He explained the most recent Southern HQ inspection went well and they were cleared.
She raised a brow at Rebecca, "You aren't military."
Storch cleared his throat. "The Fuhrer has handpicked a team of five to… address the issue. Lt. Catalina has been reinstated for the purpose."
Riza had no doubt Storch was also part of the team. She only got a shrug in response from the brunette. "What is the Fuhrer's proposal on the issue?"
"To take down General Boeing Martin."
After a brief layout of the plan — the team of four snipers and Storch behind their Communication to get close enough to General Martin to kill him — Riza had almost begged Storch for half a day before she gave them her decision.
Storch waved her off and said he was prepared to give her a full 24 hours for it, considering her now being engaged to her commanding officer.
She fell into step beside Rebecca. "Won't this make him a martyr to blind loyalists?"
"No, they'll realize they are not untouchable."
As had been part of Riza's briefing earlier, most of the people doing the Martin family's dirty work (from fake news articles to propagating revisionism against Ishvalans) were paid for their services, indicating a lack of real conviction in their beliefs other than simple greed.
"You're really decided on this." When Rebecca quit after the Promised Day, she believed nothing on Earth could make her return to her uniform. Until now. Even if she denied it, her friend was as idealistic as her fiancé was.
"Aren't you?" She crouched down to pet Hayate, quietly walking between them.
"No…" Her palm flattened briefly on her sternum to feel the ghostly weight of her military tags and engagement ring. "Not anymore."
They reached the edge of the military encampment where Roy was making casual conversation with one of the guards. With their relationship out in the open, it wouldn't be as easy to return to their ways of sneaking around during the reign of the Homunculi.
"Will you tell him?"
Roy didn't pose a threat to the mission if he knew, but he would be at risk with his knowing. "No." The Fuhrer specifically asked for her, and while she wasn't prohibited from letting Roy know, it was crucial that he would remain in the dark.
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"I am writing this letter to signify my resignation as personal adjutant and bodyguard to Colonel Roy Mustang, The Flame Alchemist, due to irreconcilable differences.
Signed,
Lt. Riza Hawkeye"
The letter was delivered to Roy with the stamp and approval of Human Resources. The ring he had slipped on her finger a week ago was enclosed with the letter. "Why wasn't I consulted?!"
As far as he was concerned, that was his staff that had let go of her post and someone else approved it without his leave?
"Due to your fraternization paperwork, it isn't deemed necessary to consult the superior officer to avoid… um… harassment."
"Did you just throw the rule book at me?"
Fuery, the unfortunate bearer of bad news, did his best not to shake where he stood.
Havoc clapped Fuery's shoulder. "It's impossible for Hawkeye to betray you without reason, Chief."
Roy shook his head, the slightly crumpled resignation letter in one fist and the engagement ring in the other, and stalked to the direction of the barracks. Surely, she wouldn't pack up and leave without telling him anything.
He threw his door open with a force that rivaled Armstrong's, calling her name.
His room was recently cleaned and the noticeable lack of Riza's things all but strangled him as he walked in. Even the detachable hook he attached for Hayate's leash was gone.
There was no sign of forced entry and the signature and handwriting on the letter was authentic.
How can…
He rounded the kitchenette, threw open the bathroom door, and paced the side of the bed as if the small space managed to hide Riza, her canine companion, and her belongings.
How can this happen?
He threw her resignation letter on the floor and it made its way down with a flutter, taunting him to look as it descended.
His traitorous eyes sought the piled pillows on the bed, searching for some — the… there. He huffed, pulling the one pillow from the stack and finding the minuscule tear on the corner of the pillowcase.
It wasn't a dream, he affirmed to himself as he took deep breaths. A week ago, she said yes to his proposal and the ring currently in his fist had been put on her finger before she looped it with her military tags the next day.
A week ago, she caused that tear in the corner of the pillowcase.
Riza bit back a groan even as her fingers gripped Roy's shirt to pull him closer. The ring had barely made it past her knuckle when his tongue started gliding alongside her jaw and his fingers worked their way down to yank her black undershirt from out of her military pants.
"We haven't eaten dinner," she said, unbuttoning his shirt and pushing it away from his shoulders.
He chuckled as he pulled her pants down and slid back up to kiss the center of her chest. He slid his arms underneath her armpits and dumped her inelegantly on the bed.
She flipped over on her stomach, then reached up and tossed her bra to the floor. She smirked at him over her shoulder as she unclipped her hair and anchored her knees on the bed.
He stopped fumbling with his pants when her panty-clad ass shot up in the air and wiggled, tantalizing him. "You will be the death of me."
He grabbed two handfuls of her hips and drove both of them to oblivion. Near the end, he became vaguely aware that Riza had clung to a pillow and was biting the edge in an attempt to keep her voice down lest their neighbors heard her screams and moans.
"Damn it's hot," he said after they've had time to breathe in the afterglow.
She hummed, scooting away from him to keep their sticky and damp bodies away from each other. She sat up, flipped the pillow, then laid back down.
He had turned his head to watch, relishing in the image of her wearing nothing else but her military tags and his ring, when he noticed the damp spot on the corner of the pillow caused by her biting down on it.
He swallowed down the chuckle threatening to burst again as he touched the spot and his finger slid inside a small hole she had made.
The days that followed were a whirlwind with the amount of work they had to do and he barely had time to notice Riza, unless it was them falling on the bed together after a long day or rising at the sound of the military base's alarm.
He doubted their relationship — both personal and professional — ended in a handful of days because they had both been too busy.
Where in holy hell is my fiancée?
AN: Was surprised when the story took this direction because I've been frustrated with our country's current political climate. (I suppose we all need an outlet or two.)
'Til next time!