For now, though...here's the ceremony. This one's not too long because I split the chapter in two, in the interest of giving you guys an update to tide you over while I personally fistfight the second part until it doesn't suck so bad. WE'LL GET THERE.
Song for this chapter is "Trickle Down" by The Tragically Hip, which I like because it's about corruption, vying for power, secrets, and, um...lions. It's called imagery, okay, guys?
Old lion's dying, got left behind
Cut your teeth, lose your meat
And man, it's just a matter of time
Keys to the cuffs, you might be king
That's it, that's all, that's everything
Skeletons come here to dance
Where barrooms beat their brothers
Into a bloody trance
What's the deal? What did I do?
"Who cops all the cops?" is all I asked of you
Lining up, waiting on the trickle down
Something's up, taking time to get around
Belly up, all the drinks are on the Crown
It's just a matter of the trickle down
If Ed had felt uncomfortable showing up in his regular military uniform, he was going to need to find a new word for how it felt showing up in the full formal parade dress uniform. It had been issued to him a month ago alongside his regular blue uniform, and he'd never so much as tried it on until now.
"Why the hell do I need one of these?" he'd asked Mustang at the time. "If you think just because I'm taking the job I'm about to start going to military parades and all that showy bullshit you'd better think again."
"Relax, Fullmetal—I think the parade grounds have seen more than enough of you already," Mustang had replied. "It's just standard to keep one of these on hand, that's all—especially now that you finally fit the standard sizes."
He'd roared in anger in response, of course, and then asked why again.
Roy had rolled his eyes and thrown his hands up in frustration. "I don't know, in case your incessant questioning drives me to an early grave and you have to attend the state funeral? Just take it."
So anyway, a month later, there he was being led into the Führer's official residence and wearing the stupid thing. He felt wildly jealous of Alphonse, who was just dressed in a relatively-ordinary vest and tie. The feeling didn't last long, though; as an aide led them into the entrance hall, Edward was suddenly reminded of the last time he and Al had been there.
They'd been invited for tea with none other than Mrs. Bradley, and—though they didn't know it at the time—with the homunculus Pride. It still chilled Edward to think about Selim's all-too-convincing performance, and how the former First Lady had spent years flanked by monsters hiding in plain sight. Being back in the same place now was giving him an odd prickling sensation, which he tried to ignore—he knew it was just his subconscious scanning for threats where there weren't any, but the residual effect was still setting him on edge.
He exchanged a glance with Al, and between the two of them it was obvious they were both thinking the same thing. Granny and Winry, meanwhile, just looked how he imagined any regular civilians would look walking into the head of state's living quarters: mostly apprehensive, with just a dash of impressed.
The four of them were shown to a very stately room set up with rows of straight-backed chairs, many of them already filled with uniformed soldiers and their families. The place was buzzing with chatter, with plenty of officers milling around and talking. Edward noticed plenty of faces he vaguely recognized—and then he spotted a few faces he'd recognize anywhere.
"Hey, big guy, you made it!" Breda called.
He, Fuery, Havoc and Hawkeye were sequestered in a corner near one of the refreshments tables, and they all looked up and waved.
"You kids go ahead and say hi to your friends," Pinako said. "I'm gonna go find our seats."
She turned and headed into the forest of chairs, leaving Ed, Al and Winry to join Mustang's team in the corner.
"Lookin' sharp there," Havoc drawled, smirking up at Ed's uniform from his chair. He was in civilian clothes himself, seemingly as comfortable as ever. Ed rolled his eyes in response, but returned Havoc's fist-bump.
"How come you're not wearing one of these?" Edward asked, tugging at the silver-trimmed hem of his long formal jacket. "Mustang said it was mandatory."
"Yeah, but I'm retired, remember?" Havoc shrugged. "If I put on the uniform then I've gotta shave, and then I'd ruin all this hard work." He stroked his bearded chin theatrically. "So I can't be bothered. And what are they gonna do, fire me?"
"Fair point."
Everyone fussed over Alphonse, but it all happened on a bit of a time delay; it was subtle, but Ed noticed the way nobody acted quite familiar enough with his little brother until he actually spoke. Of course they hadn't known the old Al, in his original body, in the first place—Al in armour was the original version to them. It made sense that it took them a little longer to register that the skinny kid in front of them was the same guy they'd had hanging around for the past five years. The only thing about him that was familiar to them was his voice—and even that was starting to change now.
Ed knew that, intellectually. But on another level it made him want to take everyone by the shoulders and shake them, to remind them all that the very last thing Al needed right now was to be treated like an outsider, and would it kill them to put a little more effort into acting normal, for his sake? Hadn't he been through enough already?!
Practically, though, if Alphonse noticed, he didn't let it show. He was grinning widely as he leaned on his crutch, talking animatedly and giving candid answers to everyone's questions. Edward detected the little stutters in his speech that meant his nerves were getting overclocked by all the excitement; he wanted to intervene, but he held off, reminding himself that it was on Al to manage his own energy.
"Where's the Colonel?" Al asked.
"He's over there working the room," Breda said, cocking his head to the left.
They turned to look; Mustang was having an animated conversation with a crowd of older women in civilian dress.
"Who are they?"
"The wives of some of the remaining top generals," Hawkeye explained. "We're still fighting on multiple fronts—even on a day like today."
Winry tilted her head, considering the scene. "So how come it looks like he's just hitting on them?"
The Lieutenant sighed. "He only has so many skills at his disposal."
After a few moments of general chitchat, the Colonel caught sight of the new arrivals and excused himself, breaking free from the gaggle of officers' wives to make his way over to greet the delegation from Resembool.
"Well, if it isn't our honoured civilian guests! So glad you could join us, Miss Rockbell," Mustang said, greeting Winry with an over-the-top bow. She laughed; he turned and greeted Alphonse with an equally formal nod and handshake. "Mr. Elric; glad to see you here as well."
Then he turned to Ed, who scowled at him. He sighed. "…Fullmetal."
"Colonel." Ed glared at his commanding officer. "You've got a lot of nerve using these guys as backup to drag me out here."
"Hey, it worked, didn't it?" Mustang smirked. "I don't know why you're so mad, though. It's not every day in this line of work that we get a big crowd of people telling us what a good job we did."
"Brother's just crabby about the uniform," Al said, laughing.
"Yeah, lighten up, Ed," Winry said, grinning as she gave him a gentle punch on the arm. "You don't even have to do anything."
He grunted in acknowledgement and said nothing.
"Aren't any of the soldiers from Briggs here?" Winry asked, glancing around the room. "I was hoping to at least see Mick and Liam again."
"Who?"
"Mick and Liam! Remember? The soldiers who were staying with me?"
"Oh, them." Ed shook his head. "You mean your bodyguards. You make it sound like they were foreign exchange students or something."
"Well, excuse me for trying to be positive."
"About being an assassination target?!"
"Yes!"
Mustang cleared his throat loudly. "Nobody from Briggs was invited today, actually," he said.
"What? Why not?" Winry asked.
He lowered his voice a little, motioning for the others to do the same. "It's political," he said. "Major General Armstrong was lucky to keep her job, let alone get promoted. It was the Northern troops who ended up engaging in direct conflict with Central Command, and they were responsible for the most casualties."
"But that was only because—"
"Exactly," Mustang interjected, "and we know that, and they know that, and Grumman knows that. But the general public doesn't."
"Right—that makes sense, I guess," Winry said. "But it doesn't seem fair for them to do so much and then walk away with nothing."
"They may not be popular here in Central, that's true," Hawkeye chimed in, "but as long as they're posted to Fort Briggs and under the General's command, they can still have successful careers."
"Exactly," Mustang said. "Impressing the brass only makes a difference if you're aiming for Central Command in the first place. The Briggs troops have always been a bit more…independent."
"And more importantly," Hawkeye said, "they knew what they were getting into when they signed onto the mission. They knew full well that people might not see them as heroes even if they succeeded."
Winry nodded; she understood, but she still didn't like it.
"You'll also notice none of the Ishvalans are here, for a number of reasons," Mustang said, "and we weren't able to figure out an above-board way to loop in our Xingese friends just yet either, although we're working on that behind the scenes."
"That's good," Al said. "Can you let me know when you have something concrete? We…well, y'know, we wouldn't have been able to pull any of this off without them, so it doesn't feel right to leave them out."
"I have to agree on that one," Ed chimed in. "That royal pipsqueak really saved our asses, even if she did take an insane risk."
"For sure, we'll keep you in the loop," the Colonel replied.
"So more than half of the people who helped actually save the country aren't even here?" Winry asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Not just that—have you checked out the setup over there at the front?" Breda gestured toward the far end of the room to the little raised stage area, decorated with blue-and-gold bunting, where there was a podium, a long table covered in rows of little boxes—and a large framed portrait of Führer-President King Bradley, hung with a black sash.
All three teenagers flinched automatically, unsettled by the sight of a man they were all relieved to be rid of.
"Ugh," Winry said, shuddering as she turned back toward the group and lowered her voice. "Okay, I get why it has to be there, but…man, that gives me the creeps."
The Elric brothers both agreed.
"I know how you feel," Lieutenant Hawkeye said, her expression rueful as she shook her head. "Even just being in this building isn't so easy after everything that went on. But it's a necessary step if we want to move forward as peacefully as we can."
She didn't say necessary evil, but everyone within earshot made the substitution in their own heads automatically. Everyone understood.
Winry's brow furrowed as she surveyed the room again. "So…" she said quietly, "half of the real heroes are missing, we're pretending to mourn one of the actual villains, and half the people here know how fake it is, but they'll go along with it anyway as long as it helps them get promoted?"
Mustang and his squad laughed.
"Welcome to Central Command," the Colonel said.
Then the lights flickered, and a hushed murmur fell over the room as everyone took the signal to find their seats. Havoc wheeled himself briskly out in front of their little group, heading toward the nearest aisle.
"Come on, gang," he called over his shoulder. "It's showtime."
There ya have it! I hope this wasn't too dry for you guys. I tried to put in as much banter as I could, since I'm sure not everybody is as fascinated by the political processes inherent to the transfer of power after a military coup as I am. OR MAYBE YOU ARE. WHO'S TO SAY. No real EdWin this chapter, but just you wait, guys. JUST YOU WAIT.
A couple quick notes: in the manga, at Hughes' funeral all the troops are actually wearing blue uniforms with a black sash over top of them, and they're the formal/"parade dress" uniforms with the longer overjacket thing. That's what everybody is wearing in this chapter, minus the sash. In the anime(s) the uniforms themselves actually look black in some shots, but FOR OUR PURPOSES they are long and they are blue.
Also, I consulted extensively with my friend from a military family on whether or not Havoc should be in uniform, and I researched the facial hair-related policies of different militaries for awhile too (did you know there's a whole wikipedia page just for that?). Some of them have reeeeally specific rules-and in a lot of cases, you can have a moustache, you can have a goatee, but you cannot have a soul-patch or any kind of chin-beard that doesn't connect anything else. Wild! Ultimately I decided that even though Havoc COULD wear his uniform...the fact that Arakawa went out of her way to show him having grown a cool beard after retiring leads me to believe that he wouldn't. Because he loves that beard.
Anyway, next chapter will have some more familiar faces, some Grumman silliness and some other stuff, and then I SWEAR we will actually make it to this damn dinner party eventually. I hope you're all staying safe and well wherever you are! A very happy Thanksgiving to my American readers celebrating this weekend, and a happy November 26th to everybody else.
Let me know what you think, and I'll see you next time!
