~Chapter 2
"I would like to conduct a research project based off the Ishbalites to prove that they hide no further secrets and that they are peaceful people." Mustang stands at the Fuhrer's desk, waiting desperately for approval. But he doesn't dare show that he's scared that his leader will reject it, but he could smell it in the thick air.
"They are hiding secrets," he leans forward in interest, place his elbows on his oak desk and perching his chin on his closed fists.
The colonel blinks, changing his eyes to disapproval. "The only secret they would hide, and had hid, was the Philosopher's Stone. And the Stone is still a myth or legend, Fuhrer. But I would like to observe their culture. It would be useful for the databases incase we have another encounter with them."
The Fuhrer smirks, his cheeks making his eyes squint even further, which I thought was impossible. "So how do you want to do this, Colonel?"
I step next to my dear friend, but I forgot I can't encourage his decision because I'm only a mere ghost.
He shivers,
Then breathes out.
The carbon dioxide is visible and cold as it exits his mouth.
It wishes it had never left.
He spoke, more carbon dioxide was being forced to freeze, "I want to stay with the Ishbalites."
"Live with them!" The Fuhrer sounded surprised, "Wouldn't they kill you?"
He closed his eyes, slightly tilted his head down, and a smile was dancing on his lips, "Possibly. If I don't report back to you after a month, then I'm dead. All they want to do is protect each other; nothing more, nothing less."
"What about the Homonculi? That is your assignment at the moment."
"There was evidence that they came to Ishbal with the search of the Philosopher's Stone, but their motives with the Stone is unknown. Since the presences of the Stone is unknown also, I predict that the Homonculi will come back to Ishbal to receive the Stone at some point."
Ingenious, Roy, ingenious.
"Now why would they come back to Ishbal?"
"They know how to create it, that's why."
The Fuhrer smiled devilishly, he clearly wanted to get on Mustang's nerve and make him insult the people of Ishbal to prove the point that they are higher than them. Also, to prove that they're not worth anyone's time nor money.
Roy scans the items on the Fuhrer's desk to look for some inspiration. For some odd reason, there was a die next to the pencil holder that was sleeping soundly on his desk. "Sometimes, you just have to roll the dice."
The door flies open and Major Armstrong walks in with his hands full of Edward Elric's red hoody. He looked angry, yet, given-up.
His brother, Alphonse Elric, walks up besides the Major. His soul feeling uncomfortable in his armor. He seemed shy even though he knew Armstrong and was much large than him, but today just felt different. Instead of silk or cotton, it was burlap or steel wool.
"I'm sorry to bother you, Fuhrer," Armstrong said, "but these boys were causing trouble again in Ishbal. So we brought them back as soon as possible. We have no clue how they got there though." He sets Ed down onto the ground, his platform shoes pigeon-toed as they stood on top of the tiled floor. His position doesn't change much: arms crossed, face cringed with a temper tantrum almost spilling over the edge, and his golden eyes filled with flames.
Ed tilts his head further down, his chin touching his chest. The shadows cast over his face, "I already told you." He said calmly, "I was waiting for the Homonculi."
Roy takes a deep breath, inhaling the sweet scent of being correct in this conflict.
Ed continues to talk, for he had something else to say, "If it was for that lady with the stupid Roses, I would've had Lust on the ground in a heartbeat."
"Oh yes," the colonel smiles at the thought of her tangling the Fullmetal Alchemist with pretty flowers and hm being hopeless. And you couldn't forget about the sight of her being much taller than Ed. "I met her when I went to Ishbal the other day. I believe she called herself a 'Thorn Alchemist', but I can't seem to recall her real name. I remember her saying that she didn't have a last name though. She is quite a character; brave, a lot of courage in that girl. Loves to question higher authority. And even though people call her a 'demon' for going against their religion, she is still determined to protect them."
The Fuhrer turns his attention to Mustang, "Colonel Roy Mustang, I order you to research the Ishbalites and await the arrival of the Homonculi. If they come, kill them. Is this understood?"
Mustang salutes his leader with a grand smile, "Thank you, Fuhrer! I will not let you down!"
"With one exception." He looks over at the people behind the colonel, "Fullmetal, Armstrong. I want you to go along with Colonel Mustang to supervise him. But I still want you to take notes on the Ishbalites's culture. But since this is the colonel's idea, you only have to take as half as many notes as him."
Mustang gawks at the Fuhrer, "I don't need an escort! I'm Roy Mustang!"
The Fuhrer smiles with a little chuckle.
It was like nails on a chalkboard for everyone in the room.
"And that is why you need some escorts."
Roy silently stands defeated. His arms drop, his hands slip his thigh limply. He clutches his fist and snaps his fingers without noticing.
Fullmetal looks at the colonel with complete disgust, he really does hate Mustang as much as he says he does. Maybe even more. But sometimes he says things that are actually meaningful, or worth great value and lessons. And Ed, he admired those moments, but only briefly. And every time he's around Mustang and says that he's right and it turns out to be absolutely wrong, he doesn't like to admit things too easily. He's as stubborn as much as his hair is yellow.
The Fuhrer stands up and begins to exit the now uncomfortable room, "You leave tonight. There will be a car with a trunk full of notebooks, pencils, and necessities such as uniforms and water. I'll see you gentlemen in a month!" He salutes his goodbyes and closes the door behind him, leaving all the men in the room to process what had just happened.
~A NOTE~
The air was thick,
Almost like melted butter being stirred.
The butter is not warm any more.