The Game of Three Generals
by Lady Norbert
A/N: Well, I've been reading your reviews carefully, and I will say that some of my readers are frightfully clever. Nobody's hit exactly what's coming in their guesses, but some of you have gotten extraordinarily close!
Having said that, I feel almost like I owe you an apology for what's about to happen. And it's not even the worst of what's coming, if you can believe that...
Chapter Nine: Dancing Pawn
Dancing Pawn: A tactic involving the use of five Pawns to repeatedly fork the three Generals. Even if the opponent attempts to save his Generals, the Dancing Pawns will be able to successfully capture at least one of the Generals.
Douglas is thoroughly unsurprised when General Piper politely declines their offer to help investigate. Hakuro is nowhere in evidence when they present themselves to Piper; apparently he's left the entire matter to his former underling.
"General Hakuro needed to return to the Aerugonian front," Piper explains. "We received word of some potential trouble stirring again down there."
"Trouble? But we signed a peace treaty!" Breda objects.
"So did Drachma, but they still get it in their heads to invade Briggs every once in a while." Piper shrugs. Douglas has to admit he has a point.
"Well, by the request of both the Acting Fuhrer and the First Granddaughter, we're here to offer our assistance in the investigation," says Havoc.
"The Colonel has my deepest condolences for what's evidently happened to her grandfather," Piper replies gravely. Douglas watches his eyes - Uncle Maes always said that it's hard for the eyes to support the mouth when it lies, a maxim he has found holds considerable truth - but the sympathies are reflected even there. "But I already have a team of experienced investigators working on the matter. You may assure the Acting Fuhrer that we will be exceptionally thorough in our examinations. I will give him nothing less than my best efforts."
"Could we maybe see the office anyway?" Breda offers. "A fresh perspective might help."
"I'm very sorry, and I appreciate your willingness to help," says Piper. "I know how loyal Mustang's men are and how much you would want to do anything to help find the Fuhrer. But the truth of the matter is... and I feel terrible saying it... there really isn't much to find. Most everything in that room is ash and cinder."
"Excuse me, General," says Douglas. He's thinking hard. "I apologize, I'm sure this will sound presumptuous. But we've been given to understand that you've been the Fuhrer's acting adjutant in recent weeks. How is it that you were able to escape?"
Piper blinks at him, clearly startled by the inquiry. "Pure luck," he says after a moment. "The Fuhrer asked me to prepare coffee for his meeting with Major General Mustang. I needed to go down to the storeroom in order to replenish the supplies. Otherwise, you're correct; I would have been in the office as well, and would have certainly met the same fate."
Douglas nods, filing that away. He doesn't trust Piper, of course, despite Mustang's assertion that they need to hope that they can. It's nothing altogether personal, he just doesn't trust anybody at this point outside of 'the allies.' We should have brought Black Hayate with us - he'd be able to sense if this guy was on the level. In their anxiety over the situation in Central, they hadn't thought to bring the Colonel's dog until it was too late, and he's still in Ishval in the care of Lieutenant Colonel Miles.
They return, eventually, to the Crisis Room, which the new Acting Fuhrer is using as an office. He's surprised to learn of Hakuro's departure, and of the situation on the Aerugonian front. "Lieutenant Colonel Armstrong," he says, turning to the hulking figure, "please make sure it's understood that anything of that nature is to be brought to my attention immediately."
"Yes, sir."
"Where are the girls?" asks Havoc.
"I had Brosh drive them back to the Fuhrer's mansion. Riza will be more comfortable there."
"I'm surprised she agreed to that," Breda says with a chuckle.
"So am I," Mustang admits. "Rebecca had to help me talk her into it. I told her I'd have Armstrong serve as my temporary adjutant, since she's really not in any condition to do it right now - she's upset and hormonal. Grief alone she could work around, but the combination of grief and pregnancy is overwhelming even her professionalism. She's not happy about it, but she finally conceded the point."
"I'm more surprised that you're willing to let her out of your sight, to be honest," says Havoc, with the ghost of a grin.
"Well, it's hardly the ideal circumstance, but the Fuhrer's mansion is well guarded and Brosh will stay there with them until he's relieved." He takes a long drink of coffee; Douglas wonders just how much he did or did not sleep last night. "So Piper said no to you helping with the investigation?"
"Wouldn't even let us see the office," Fuery confirms.
"All right." Mustang taps his chin thoughtfully. "Havoc, Breda, Fuery - see what you can find out without stepping on anyone's toes. You know the drill. Douglas, I'd like you to head over to the mansion and relieve Brosh, if you will; he was standing guard here for a while before I sent him off to play chauffeur, and he probably needs a break."
"Sir." Douglas salutes. "How do I get there, sir?"
"Ross will drive you; she can bring Brosh back with her and then they can both go off-duty for a spell."
When Douglas relieves Brosh, he finds the Colonel on the telephone.
"Yes...of course, I'll let you know. Thank you very much for calling, I really appreciate it. All right. You take care too." She hangs up, looking only slightly emotional, and acknowledges Douglas's salute. "That was Edward Elric," she explains, waving for him to be at ease. "It's made this morning's papers, of course. He wants to come for the...the service."
"Ma'am?"
"I'm not deluding myself into thinking that there's going to be anything to find." Catalina appears in the doorway and gives her friend a fresh cup of tea. "They'll schedule a memorial service, a funeral without a burial, and that will be that."
"I didn't really get the chance to say so before, ma'am," says Douglas, sitting down at her urging. "But I am... terribly sorry for your loss. Your grandfather is - was - an excellent man."
"Thank you."
"I know there's not much I can do, but I want you to know that you and the General still have my unconditional support."
Her eyes are warm. "You're a good man, Douglas." She takes a drink of tea and, perhaps unconsciously, rubs her stomach. "So since you're here...what's going on at Central Command? Are the others helping with the investigation?"
"General Piper very respectfully declined the offer. He says he's got a crew of trained inspectors already at work, and he doesn't want to risk contaminating evidence with too much interference."
"Hm." She doesn't look very impressed. "I have to admit, I wonder what they think they're going to find. From what we've been told, it doesn't seem like there's a great deal of evidence left intact."
"No, ma'am," he agrees.
"The thing that scares me," she tells them both, "is that Roy would have been up there too, when it happened, except that I got sick and he refused to leave me alone." She glances down at her stomach. "It begs the question, in my mind - who was the real target? Was it my grandfather, or was it my husband? Or both?"
"Well, we've already seen that Acheron has a vendetta against the country in general, from what he said to you and the Major General," Douglas says. "My guess would be both, as much as I hate to say it."
"I think he's right, Riza," says Catalina. "We're just really lucky that your pregnancy's being difficult."
The Colonel sighs. "My baby hasn't even been born yet, and already saved his or her father's life. I really hope this isn't setting a precedent."
Colonel Mustang is correct in her assessment. Less than two days later, Fuhrer Grumman is formally pronounced to be dead, and accorded the highest honors Amestris can bestow. Edward and Winry Elric arrive from Resembool to attend the memorial; Lieutenant General Armstrong and Major Falman likewise arrive from Briggs, and Lieutenant Colonel Miles comes from Ishval. He brings Black Hayate, which is possibly the only balm anyone could offer to the grieving granddaughter's wounded heart. All the soldiers are clad in their formal black uniform, the one that is only to be worn for funereal occasions, and the weather is overcast and dull. Amestris itself seems to be in mourning. The Mustangs - the Fuhrer's only family - are given place of honor at the front of the procession, with the General called upon to euologize his grandfather-in-law.
"Fuhrer Grumman was a man of peace, and a man of principle," he says. "Like any good chess player, he was clever about keeping his true intentions hidden until the right moment, but his primary concern was always what was best for our country. I had the unique good fortune to be able to call him my mentor, and my friend, and my grandfather by marriage; I could not name for you a living man whom I have ever respected more. It is a loss to us all that we were only able to have him in the Fuhrer's office, and in our lives, for these few short years."
The Colonel keeps her face carefully averted during her husband's speech; she doesn't want to cry in public. He returns to her side and she takes his arm, pressing her face against his sleeve as the twenty-one gun salute begins. To a man, the black-garbed soldiers click their heels and salute sharply until the gunshots die away. A rumble of thunder echoes faintly in the distance, as though the world itself is determined to have the final word.
The post-event reception is held at the Fuhrer's mansion, now the Mustangs' residence. The members of the security detail form a loose perimeter around the Colonel, who sits in a high-backed chair drinking a glass of cranberry juice. Winry Elric sits next to her, saying little but offering the comfort of her sympathetic presence, and it's evident that the elder of the two women is very grateful to have her there. Not for the first time, Douglas thinks to himself that they could almost pass for sisters. Their husbands are across the room, speaking in low voices that no one else is able to hear.
Douglas starts to address the Colonel, to ask if she'd like him to bring her something from the buffet, and pauses. He's not actually sure what he's supposed to call her now. Is she still Colonel Mustang, or is she Mrs. Mustang, or Madam Fuhrer? 'First Lady Mustang' sounds well, but is she ready for that? Not wanting to upset her, he decides to stick with her military title until she tells them otherwise.
"Colonel Mustang, can I get you anything from the buffet? You should really eat something."
She blinks at him. "Thank you, Douglas. Just...a little of this or that, I suppose. I'll nibble."
He nods and crosses the room, collecting a plate and arranging it with olives and pickles and cubes of cheese and rolled slices of meat. As he does, he overhears the muttering.
"So he's still just Acting Fuhrer, right?"
"Right. I mean, we all know he's got the job, but he's delaying the inauguration in deference to his wife."
"Giving her time to grieve."
"Can't get her too upset in her condition."
"They're gonna live here? Sweet digs."
"Well, it was Grumman's own place - he let Madam Bradley stay in the old Fuhrer's mansion, the one owned by the state. Colonel Mustang was his only family, so now everything that was his is hers. Even if Mustang weren't the next Fuhrer, this house would belong to them by rights."
No one seems to be saying anything too damaging, so Douglas doesn't pay much attention. On his way back to the Colonel, however, he overhears something that almost makes him drop her plate.
"He is the Flame Alchemist. It wouldn't have been difficult for him at all."
His blood runs cold. They can't seriously think...?
Apparently they can.
It is a week after the memorial. Mustang is still using the Crisis Room as a temporary office, and the group is convened there. Edward Elric is still among them; Winry is at the mansion with the Colonel, Catalina, and Havoc, but the Elrics have agreed that they want to remain with their friends for a few days longer, just to offer their support.
The door opens, and General Piper enters, followed by two MPs. He does not smile. He does not salute.
"Piper?"
"The investigation into the explosion has concluded," he says.
"What have you determined?" The presence of the MPs is not lost on Mustang, but he's remaining calm.
"There is no plausible reason for it to have happened. There are no evident explosives or any other equipment which could have triggered the blast. The conclusion of the investigative team is that the fire quite literally had no physical genesis and was therefore... alchemical in nature."
"I see." Mustang is still calm, but he's noticeably paler.
"Yes."
"Then I assume you're here for one reason."
"I'm afraid so. I am deeply sorry to have to say this," says Piper, and he actually does look regretful. "Acting Fuhrer and Major General Roy Mustang, you are under arrest for the murder of Fuhrer Grumman."