AN: Okay, Tanya action starts now… well… in a little bit. I'd appreciate
Disclaimer: I don't own Youjo Senki. It belongs to Being X. No seriously, Zen Carlo's Twitter account says 'sonzaix'. So it belongs to Being X. Amazing, eh?
In a cursed world scorched by endless bloodshed, one nation stood unmatched: The State of Amestris, whose vast army and advanced technologies allowed it to carve out a formidable empire over its four centuries of existence.
Their most powerful weapon, however, was not their battle hardened infantry, nor was it their emergent armored forces, which were decades ahead of their time. It was a small, elite college of highly trained specialists who harnessed the greatest of the material sciences, alchemy: the science of understanding the structure of matter, breaking it down, and reconstructing it as something else.
This tiny elite serving as Amestris' greatest asset represented the best alchemists that the State's citizenry had to offer, the top one percent. For every year, only one would be chosen out of over a hundred applicants. To those who would grace the alchemy exam with their talents and reach the top, they would receive the honor of being called State Alchemists.
~O~O~O~
I. SYLPHID EXPOSITION
My name is Tanya Degurechaff, and for the past nine years, my life has been troublesome. It wasn't always like this. I used to live a life of comfortable efficiency, running the HR department of a successful Japanese corporation. It wasn't a perfect life, but it was one that I could live with. It was a path dictated by common sense. If I didn't cause any trouble, I would be left alone. If I played my part well, I was rewarded by the executives. And if I played it well enough for a sufficient amount of time, I would have climbed my way to a nice corner office I could call my own.
But then, disaster struck. Or should I say, a mentally unstable ape who couldn't put common sense over the immediate gratification of his animal instincts' urge to retaliate against what was a logical action. It wasn't my fault he got fired. It was his pathetic performance and truancy, his own doing, which forced my hand and brought his state of unemployment down on him. That was entirely his responsibility.
And so, thinking more about satisfying his carnal desire for revenge, he pushed me into an oncoming train. That should have been the end of it, right? But no. To further complicate matters, I was accosted at the last second by some sort of advanced intelligence – with the gall to claim it was God, of course, never mind the fact that any being with the power to call itself God shouldn't even get tired. Otherwise, it wouldn't be omnipotent, right?
Of course, as an atheist, I wouldn't believe in anything that would qualify as God anyway, so that was a moot point. Somehow, my rational sensibilities offended this entity, henceforth to be referred to as 'Being X', and he made an, I would say, extremely hasty decision to try to forcibly convert me into worshipping him using most unpleasant means. His preferred method? Reincarnate me into a world plagued by war and suffering, where humans did not have the modern conveniences and technologies that I enjoyed in my previous life. His absurd logic seemed to be, "If you suffer enough, you'll ask for my help sooner or later".
Which is preposterous.
My pleas fell on deaf ears and I was reincarnated into this world, an orphan raised by social workers running a small welfare operation in what I soon found out was Amestris' 'East City'. And as if to add insult to fatal injury, I was reborn in the body of a girl. Oh, I didn't mention? I wasn't a girl before. But that's neither here nor there.
This world was similar to my old one in some ways, different in others. For example, the people living here were human. Ethnically speaking, it was a mixed bag, a result of Amestris' obsession with conquest and assimilation, like a modern Roman Empire. But everyone was human. Another similarity was the use of the Common Era calendar, which gave me a handy way of comparing this world's technological advancement to my past life. It was about the same as an advanced nation fresh out of the 1910s.
Now for the differences… I always found it odd that they expanded in all directions and specifically aimed for a circular shape, rather than adhering to sensible terrain boundaries, like mountains or rivers. Though looking at a world map, this appeared to be an idiosyncrasy unique to Amestris itself.
Prosthetic technology was also extremely advanced, to the point of exceeding modern Earth's prosthetic technology. Robotic limbs that could be connected to the nerves and functioned just like a brand new replacement. They call this Automail.
The most important difference, however, was how alchemy was a legitimate science that legitimately functioned, rather than some fuddy duddy pseudoscience that was eventually supplanted by modern chemistry.
Reams of research and data existed concerning this seemingly magical scientific field. The most interesting thing about alchemy, however, was the military's State Alchemist program. Once a year, it would hold an exam to test over a hundred applicants. The top ranked examinee would be inducted into the ranks of the State Alchemists, and be given a lot of enticing perks, such as a hefty research grant that they could use to pursue whatever field of alchemic research they desired, access to the government's restricted alchemy archives, and the rank and authority of a Major in the Army.
There were, of course, terms of service, but these, I only considered reasonable policies that I could follow.
Obey the military. Common sense. It was a military program, and I was going to be a military officer after all.
Do not create gold. This was a sound law for a world that still ran on the gold standard. It was to avoid destroying the economy with inflation.
Do not perform human transmutation. While most people would assume it was due to the moral and ethical implications of 'violating the sanctity of human life', it would be silly that a government that frequently participated in bloodbaths would put up such a law. No, to me, it was clear as day. It was to maintain the status quo, to keep the Amestrian government in power.
Human transmutation was prohibited to make sure that nobody could create a personal army of homunculi and challenge the government for power. And for people like State Alchemists, who had access to the State's most highly restricted research, this was a far more likely scenario than for anyone else who would just stumble around in the dark with their human transmutation experiments.
And so, not long after learning to read the local language – which for all intents and purposes seemed to be English, another similarity – and familiarizing myself with the most important factors of this world, I came to the conclusion that I would steer my new life in the direction where I could find the best comfort: as a State Alchemist in the rear, performing vital research that would benefit the Amestrian government, while making sure that my abilities would not be suitable for frontline deployment.
I spent six years self-studying as much alchemy as I could, while keeping myself abreast of current events, to figure out in what field of alchemy I could specialize in. By the time I was nine years old, I had become extremely proficient at a form of alchemy that I believed to be most technically relevant to Amestris' interests.
I was ready to put my plan into action.
And so with my wits about me, and my hard earned alchemic knowledge, I bid the social workers goodbye - along with the other brats in that hell hole of an orphanage - and got on the first train to Central City, where I would do my damned hardest to make sure that I would become this year's State Alchemist.
The official records say the youngest person to ever top the State Alchemist examination was a 13-year-old boy from a small sheep farming town in the southeast sector called Resembool. He'd come out of nowhere, and astounded the brass with his youthful talent. He then went on some grand adventure spanning several years, until eventually marrying his childhood sweetheart a little while back. What a stereotypical fairy tale story.
His name? Edward Elric. His designated title? Fullmetal Alchemist. Sounds like a title you'd give to a shonen anime, honestly.
Well, Edward Elric, step aside. Because I'm going to beat your record and become the youngest State Alchemist ever. Unlike your high flying action packed life of adventure, though, I'm going to spend the rest of my days in a nice, comfy laboratory, reading up on ways I can improve the military while getting rewarded for it.
~O~O~O~
INTERLUDE: FORT BRIGGS, 5 APRIL 1918
Spring might have been in full swing in other parts of the nation of Amestris, but regardless of how good the weather was further south, the Briggs Mountain Range maintained its gaunt, snowy atmosphere. The only difference between this day and the winter of a few months ago was the mostly clear skies and a lack of blizzards to buffet the garrison here. The floors were still slippery with sheet ice, the icicles were still dangerous to the unwary, and the frozen nights still clocked in at well below zero.
The only consolation was that this particular front had been pretty quiet after that one incident a few years ago when the Drachmans foolishly attempted to attack the base. Just because one of their spies had leaked information that General Armstrong wasn't present at the time. Even with some incompetent pencil pusher from Central having been placed in command while General Armstrong was away, Briggs' forces proved that they would excel, even when their rightful commander wasn't watching.
One Lieutenant Cooper, who manned Lookout Station D, had been sitting comfortably in his chair, listening to his favorite radio soap. The signal was terrible, but he'd long since learned to decipher the language despite the garbled static that plagued the transmissions. That was until some very unusual movement in the distance caught his eye. Cooper scrambled to his feet and rushed to snap on his binoculars to make sure that he wasn't hallucinating. Something had just broken the clouds and had begun to descend into the valley beneath. Cooper probably would have noted as well, given the distance between the cloud and the fortress, that this wasn't just something. It was something big.
The white snow of the valley turned black underneath the shadow of the titanic vessel as it approached the Briggs mountain fortress from above. It was a mechanical monstrosity over a thousand feet long, an elongated almost cigar-like shape framed by an armored superstructure. At the nose of this curious beige shape was painted a vicious shark face, a clever psychological ploy against any enemies that it would happen to face. Along its sides whirred a quartet of jet engines, providing it with mobility and maneuverability despite its size.
Slung underneath the gigantic main body was a comparatively small if still impressive chassis, which sported what appeared to be a likely bridge – for it seemed to be a ship of some sort, if one that sailed through the air. Behind that, if one could see the profile of the vessel from the side, they would notice a door that led to a cavernous hangar, and beneath this structure rotated a pair of massive triple turrets, one positioned under the bridge, and the other lower still, under the hangar.
Cooper immediately switched off his radio soap and got on the comms. "Birdwatcher Actual, this is Birdwatcher-04, do you copy, over?"
A quick burst of static was followed by a deep voice. "Loud and clear, Birdwatcher-04. What's your status?"
"Unidentified contact coming in at bearing 20!" Loud buzzing began to sound off from the direction of the machine, like an angry hornet's nest.
"Composition?" Birdwatcher Actual's voice was barely audible by this point. Cooper looked back up to see specks pouring out from the machine's side. So it did house hornets after all.
"Some kind of huge flying machine, Sir! It's got-" Cooper's voice drowned in a fiery explosion as one of the turrets rotated and fired a salvo at his lookout post, destroying it entirely.
On that day, the Drachmans had sent a message: the ceasefire was over.
AN: Okay, so she didn't actually have any action per se, more like exposition. My apologies. But we'll have more happening next chapter.
