Disclaimer in previous chapters. Please see Author's Notes at the end.
- x -
For poorly trained, inadequately equipped soldiers who were out of both their element and wits, they weren't doing as badly as she'd expected.
A bullet winged by, fairly close, and she ignored it, scanning the horizon with the binoculars she'd borrowed from Colonel Mazo. He had decent taste in his own personal equipment, and was actually making headway with his broken arrow formation. She'd given him fully half the armor division, since he clearly had the best knowledge of the nearby city and terrain, and he was using it to his best advantage.
Another bullet pinged by, quite a bit closer, and she let her frown deepen, just slightly. The entire point of the three snipers on the observation tower with her were to protect her from enemy snipers. If the enemy were truly such bad shots even without having to worry about return fire, they'd been a complete waste of resources.
Of course, considering the observation tower, like most of the ground troops, was reflecting the setting sun right back into the faces of the Cretian forces, she wasn't the easy target she seemed.
It had been a stroke of brilliance of the enemy general to attack in late afternoon. It put the sun directly in the defender's eyes and at the backs of the Cretians, easily overcoming the inherent advantage defenders had. What they hadn't counted on, however, was a suddenly glaring wall of HQ and a blinding front line, every available inch covered in reflective materials, with thick black stripes beneath their eyes, wearing their northern anti-glare visors.
Snow was by far the worst reflector she knew. It would cripple both sides in the north, which is why the visors were standard issue. They acted to further block the glare of the sun, and with the black stripes adding to the effect the overall result was a zero gain from the environment for the attackers. In fact, they were at a disadvantage, as they'd clearly been counting on the sun to help.
Her teams dispatched into the city had also been successful in setting up their ambushes. Randomly placed reflective surfaces that looked like snipers or men in ambush. The true snipers were in plainclothes, and the ambushing soldiers in their original, unadorned uniforms. The tactic was having a staggering effect on the morale of the attackers.
They'd been counting on an easy victory, and now the visible commanders were throwing tantrums like fat children being chased out of a candy store.
Once they finished pissing and moaning, though, they were going to regroup. The first wave had collided and Amestris hadn't yet lost ground, but unfortunately, the first wave was the only wave she had. They had to hold another four hours before reinforcements from South would arrive.
She knew well why Mustang had cut it so close, and she couldn't fault his logic, but this wasn't Briggs, and these weren't her men. Of all the times to set her up to fail-
Something tugged on the pad of her left shoulder, and she thinned her lips. "Use your rifles or give them to a soldier that will."
"We can't spot 'em, Major General sir!"
Amateurs. Having not seen active combat since Liore was no excuse.
"Brigadier General!"
"I have him," came the rumble almost immediately, and she closed her eyes when she heard the tearing of fabric. Would it kill him to keep his clothes on when fighting? Or speaking? Or walking? Mother had been right. If he kept that up, he would be a bachelor for life.
She continued scanning the horizons, looking for the next wave, even as she heard her younger brother prying a brick off the observation tower. With hardly a pause and a roar of effort, the so-familiar crash of metal bracer and stone sounded just next to her, and she didn't bother to follow the projectile. It would hit the sniper, or close enough that it would identify the position to her snipers.
"Get his spotter as well," she instructed them, hopefully unnecessarily. It was hard to tell with this group.
"Your uniform has been torn, sister-"
"So has yours," she snapped. "Do you intend to go into combat without a uniform at all?"
"I have not yet seen signs of enemy alchemists." It was slightly hurt, and she resisted the urge to nail him across the face with the binoculars. It wouldn't make a bit of difference to him, and ruin the equipment besides.
That, and he had a point. There had been no signs of enemy alchemists, and that was a problem. They would have been foolish to enter a battle with Amestris and not bring human weapons of their own, armors and artillery notwithstanding. They were nearly finished getting their long-range launchers into position, though she was fairly certain her small teams would be at least fifty percent successful in destroying them.
She didn't really want to deploy her brother until she had to. Once he was gone it would be too difficult to place him elsewhere, and rank be damned, they hadn't seriously fought since she was thirteen. He'd made a difference during the invasion of Central, but basic tactics hadn't been demonstrated since Liore.
Which was not a shining moment on his record. She wasn't sure she could trust him as far as she could throw him. There would be civilians in the city that hadn't had the sense to flee. There would be casualties. If he responded as he had before -
"Neither have I," she grumbled, setting herself to her task once again. The enemy general did not have the advantage of an observation tower, she had to be out there someone.
Intelligence said the top Cretian generals were both female. Terese Enora and Anya Sein. She wasn't sure if both would have been deployed, but if they had been, winning the war would be almost too easy.
If only one or the other would show their faces before she ran out of men.
One of her snipers fired, then was shortly congratulated by his spotter. Finally, one of them was useful.
"There may be an alchemist approaching the main gates," her brother observed, and she dropped her scanning to be quite a bit closer. Almost directly beneath her was a small team of men moving in, having cut around one of Mazo's armor divisions. They were encountering one of her skirmish teams, but Alex was right. One man, in a uniform with a sidearm but no rifle, was dodging between clotheslines in an alley parallel with the fighting.
Obviously intent on the building.
She was slightly mollified when Alex pried off another brick, and this time she watched with the naked eye as he tossed it into the air and slammed his fist into it. A perfectly aerodynamic bust of their father went hurtling down towards the alchemist, but she could see immediately it wasn't directly aimed for the man. It impacted the building to his right, just above him, and rained debris down on top of him.
She scoffed. "Do you intend to fight or play?" If he'd just killed him outright, there was no need to test him and discover his flavor of alchemy.
"I would be surprised to find he was alone," Alex murmured mildly, scanning the rest of the west face of the HQ walls. "There, another on the opposite side. It appears they are coordinating their efforts." Sure enough, there was another solider also conspicuously missing a rifle, clearly concerned for the safety of his comrade.
Creating two new doors instead of one. That would be a problem. "Very well. Dissuade them," she ordered, and no sooner had she done it then he flipped lightly out of the tower, onto the sloping roof of the main building. As lightly as anything that bulky could, he nimbly danced across the tiles and gutters, and with an irritated huff she went back to watching the horizon.
He would probably try to take them prisoner, but for now he was still within yelling distance. Without his shirt he was a questionable target, though nancing around on the West HQ roof sort of gave him away.
"Cover him," she growled at the two snipers on his end of the building, and they jumped to obey. Hopefully they'd be of more use to him than they had been to her.
A puff of smoke looking no bigger than a cotton ball caught her attention, and she brought the binoculars to bear. It took several seconds for the sound to get to her, and very shortly thereafter a large section of a manufacturing warehouse collapsed. Their artillery was operable.
It was likely that random shelling wouldn't cripple her men too badly. They were too thinly spread to hit, with the exception of Mazo's armor division. And they were involved in too much close combat with the first wave of armors to attack, at least until they figured out distance and shell weights. For now, all they were doing was narrowing the number of avenues battle could take place on a wide scale.
They were also paving the way for her second tier ambush parties, who until now had been cooling their heels on the off chance the front line was breached. With any luck their commanders would move them shortly and take advantage of the guerrilla-style environment they were creating. That terrain worked both ways, just like any other trench on an open field of snow. They were useful to either side, depending on who controlled what.
She scanned behind the artillery carefully. It was the highest point outside the city to view the battle, the general had to be somewhere out there. Probably doing exactly what she was doing, standing with her own lieutenants by her side.
There was a roar of anger somewhere from below, cutting through the chatter of automatic fire and armor blasts. He sounded a great deal like Papa when he was incensed, but simple yelling had failed to faze her since she was six. It only meant someone had goaded her brother into a rage, trying - and succeeding - in breaking his concentration.
Doubtlessly the enemy alchemist was extolling the great tortures suffered by Edward Elric before his execution, or going on about how he'd wept as he begged for death, or some other drek the noble could not bear to hear. It was inconsequential, because she'd just located the enemy general.
She was indeed standing just apart from the main party of officers, holding binoculars of her own, with dark brown hair plaited quite plainly around her face. Keeping it out of her way. It was too difficult to tell at this distance what she was looking at, but she was clearly the most decorated officer Olivier had spied yet, and that made her a target.
The easiest way to defeat large numbers was to demoralize the troops. Killing their general was the best single action that could be taken to accomplish that task. Her men had set the stage, she need only appear at the right time.
The general was a good mile out of the city proper, on the ridge of a trampled field of wheat. Meeting her for a duel was possible but not nearly prominent enough, she really needed to be in view of more of her men for it to work.
Armstrong let the binoculars fall to dangle around her chest, turning without another word and heading down the narrow staircase to HQ proper.
- x -
Nothing seemed out of the ordinary.
He nodded to Brooks as he passed, and he received the usual suspicious glare. No motion to stop him, but then again, Brooks and Goodman were Mustang's men. They wouldn't see any problem with his entering the Prime Minister's offices, even at a time like this. It was the blue, moving in and out of conference rooms and gathering in the far corner that he needed to worry about.
Two of the people in blue were friendlies, though, and he headed towards them. Any other time he might have made a quip about women and gossip, as Sheska and Hawkeye were both in close council with Challiel, but he knew from the tense atmosphere that it would be unappreciated. There were far too many highly decorated officers present, and more were visible in the open conference rooms, spattered with the black of parliament. One of the speakers in particular seemed interested in his presence, but either Hakuro hadn't expected him to be up and walking around yet or he hadn't mentioned it to anyone else.
So far, so good.
He approached Challiel's desk with a nod, and she gave him one in return. This got both the colonel and Sheska's attention, and both women turned. Neither seemed particularly alarmed by his presence, and he saluted the colonel.
She returned it coolly, as though nothing unusual had happened in the past eight or so hours. "At ease, lieutenant colonel. To what do we owe the visit?"
He shrugged with one shoulder, glancing around. "Just wondered if I could help," he said easily. "And if you'd heard from my wayward brother yet."
Hawkeye gave Sheska a meaningful look. "As you were, sergeant." Challiel had gone back to writing up a memo, and the colonel motioned for him to follow as she headed for her office. "You can help us by going home and getting some rest," she continued, slightly more loudly as they moved away from the Prime Minister's outer office. "Or the hospital, which is probably where you belong."
"Funny, you're the second person to say that tonight."
Hawkeye gave him a half-amused look as she took her seat, and gestured for him to have one as well. "You've looked better, Alphonse."
He sighed with a put-upon expression, and wondered if she was ignoring his request for information because she had some or because she had none. "I take it the Prime Minister is trapped in his office?"
She inclined her head. "Currently he's speaking privately with General Hakuro and the Speaker of the House regarding Sorn and Blane's involvement in the hostilities."
Doubtlessly Mustang would have to reveal to the Speaker why he was holding a civilian alchemist, and this wasn't news to Hakuro . . but why would that have precipitated knocking him out? Why would the Speaker want to talk to him? What could he say that Russ couldn't? "So the general's playing ball?"
Her expression was difficult to read. "For the present."
And that didn't really help. "What about Drachma?"
"Holding, as far as we can tell. Major General Armstrong left good men in command."
Al nodded again, and then she sighed, lightly. "Go home, Alphonse."
"You haven't mentioned Ed yet."
She didn't even blink. "We haven't received a report from him since the day before yesterday. He was in Dublith at the time."
Dublith was south, not west. Mustang had said he'd sent Edward out, along with other parties, to find likely places to transmute a Stone. If West was under attack, that put nii-san outside of the battle, unless of course something had possessed him to jump headlong into it- "And Franklin?"
She shook her head. "I'd hoped Russell Tringum would have seen to that shoulder by now."
"Nah. We were busy with Fletcher." He heard a general reduction in the amount of noise outside her office. "Though I suppose I could at least find some aspirin. It's killing me."
She leaned back in her chair, pulling open the top drawer of her desk and withdrawing a small bottle. Fingernail sized white capsules were evident through the glass, and she handed it to him rather than tossing it. "I keep them for the Prime Minister," she noted dryly. "I doubt they'll do him much good now."
No, if he was in a meeting with Hakuro and the Speaker, that was probably true. "Gee, thanks. Reject medication."
She raised an eyebrow. "I can take them back if you like."
"You can try if you'd like." He stood, waving the bottle at her as he turned. "I'll bring them back."
"No hurry, Alphonse. Get some rest. I'll call you when we have something concrete."
He had been right; the noise reduction had indeed signaled the end of Mustang's current meeting. While the door was open apparently they'd been speaking on the way, because the three were still in discussion, though both the Speaker of the House and Hakuro were on the outer office side of the door frame. Al moved towards the main hall, putting a colonel he didn't recognize between him and the party at the door, and he watched them.
It was clear Mustang was displeased about something; the set of his mouth was hard and he looked far more worn than he had even a few hours ago. He hadn't had the luxury of a nap and probably wouldn't until the situation with West was resolved one way or another. And if they still didn't have a lead on Franklin Sorn's whereabouts, giving the Speaker the truth without having the instigator in custody would probably not have been the most pleasant of conversations.
Still, the Speaker didn't look particularly distressed, nor particularly triumphant, so it wasn't as if they were about to impeach Mustang. And the general was his normal self, possibly with a puffed chest and more self-important expression in front of so many of his officers. He wasn't smirking, which Al had expected.
So what could have happened in that meeting that Hakuro would have gone to the trouble . . .?
The general turned quite suddenly, in response to something Mustang had said, and Al considered ducking more fully behind the colonel. He was unlikely to learn any more by staring at them, and Hawkeye had all but shoved him out the . . . door . . .
His hesitation cost him when the colonel in front of him moved to speak with another officer. The general's eyes just happened to move over the spot as he glanced back at the party, and of course he was the only person besides Challiel not in a military or parliament uniform. He was also the only other person in the room that seemed to need a shave, and oddly, he took a moment to wonder about the state of his hair.
The general took quite an obvious double-take, and this in turn pulled the Prime Minister's attention to him, as well as the Speaker's. He considered giving them all a nod, then it occurred to him that he should probably salute, but he did neither.
Hawkeye was more subtle, but she'd really done almost the same thing the general had. Tried to get rid of him. She'd pulled him into her office to get him away from the main room, and she'd said that she hadn't heard from nii-san directly since the day before yesterday. She'd also said she'd call when she had something concrete.
That could mean literally anything without really being a lie. Or he could be paranoid and it could mean nothing at all. Maybe nii-san was sitting at sensei's grave being sentimental and the general was just honestly concerned for his well-being.
Given his expression, though, he doubted that was the case.
He was probably going to get in trouble for not saluting.
Roy glanced at the general, who was staring at him in open surprise, and then he jerked his chin in a come-hither motion. Saluting or not, he knew better than to ignore a direct summons, and Alphonse, now feeling very much like he was in a spotlight, crossed the outer office.
"Lieutenant Colonel," the general greeted him, before Mustang could even get a word in edgewise. "I'm surprised to see you up and around. "
"Good evening, sirs. And thank you for the consideration, general. Dr. Murly was very helpful. I feel better already." He palmed the bottle of aspirin as inconspicuously as possible.
Hakuro had the good grace to appear chagrined, and Mustang's sharp eye flicked between the two of them. "Is there a problem?"
Something about the tone caught him as slightly off, and the warning bells started up all over again. "I was going to ask you the same thing."
His visible eye was guarded when he replied. "Nothing I believe you can assist me with at the moment."
Al nodded amicably, glad his left arm was in a sling so that he couldn't clench his fist at his side. "I see. In that case, I guess I should take the general's hint." Hakuro gave him a small frown, and Al turned more fully toward him. What the hell was going on, that Mustang and Hawkeye would be pushing him away at a time like this? Was he actually getting canned by Parliament?
"I expected you to have checked yourself into HQ hospital by now, Alphonse. Please consider it an order."
"Alphonse?" Oddly, it came from the Speaker. "Alphonse Elric?" Al spared the man a curious look. He was rather tall, taller than Mustang and probably aged exactly between the Prime Minister and the general. He seemed surprised himself, and then Al found his hand being shaken.
"The hero of the hour, one of the men that saved Jannai." His eyes were soft. "I think you've done enough for now, son, don't you?"
Momentarily nonplussed, Al couldn't really think of anything to say, and the man put a fatherly hand on his good shoulder. He said nothing else, just gave it a supportive squeeze, then nodded to the Prime Minister. "Mustang, General."
And then he was gone, but Al could still feel the weight of his hand.
. . . did he maybe know Fletch or Russ somehow? His confusion was evident because Mustang stepped back into his office with a soft "Please follow me." Hakuro's expression was set in stone, which was an indication he'd just done or started whatever the general had been trying to avoid . . .
"I answer to him before you," Al parroted back to words Russell had used to defer the last attempt to remove them from the cell downstairs, and the general gave him what could only be considered half a dirty look.
"You do," he agreed, and the warning bells clanged more loudly.
Despite them, Al proceeded into the Prime Minister's office, and Roy had barely taken ten steps before he turned abruptly and changed course from the desk to the more intimate chairs and sofa gathered around a table. "Please have a seat."
Al considered not accepting, and suddenly realized why the general's response had bothered him. Very rarely did Hakuro miss an opportunity to compare his behavior to his brother's.
Then it all clicked into place.
"Where is he?" he asked without moving. Mustang would know damn well who he was talking about.
"On the front lines," Hakuro responded without missing a beat, overriding whatever Mustang was going to say. "He created them, actually. He and Sorn are both missing, presumably together."
The front lines.
Mustang had sent him to the front lines.
Al would have closed his eyes, would have shaken his head, would have given any sign of his disbelief and disappointment, but suddenly he was far too tired. Of course. Mustang had sent him to find a place to transmute a circle, he'd found a likely spot near West, run across Sorn, and wherever Franklin was the army was. Obviously someone had stopped the kid, if there was an army alive to attack West, so they were assuming he and nii-san were laying low until they could get back to civilization.
Or they'd been captured by the enemy. Or they'd been killed by the enemy.
The weight of the Speaker's hand was still firm in his mind. "But no other 'concrete' reports, right?" Now Hawkeye made sense, too. But not the general-
"That's correct," the general confirmed briskly. "As soon as we have news, we will forward it to either your home or the HQ infirmary, whichever you'd prefer."
Al stared at him for a long moment, but when he spoke, it wasn't to the general. "This is the first time in memory you've let him speak for you."
Mustang had also not taken a seat, and his hands were tucked inside his pockets. Casual for anyone but the Flame Alchemist. Al couldn't see enough of him in his peripheral vision to judge his expression, but that was almost beside the point. Hakuro was easier to read, and he was unhappy with the entire process.
He was also not taking the opportunity to say anything derogatory about nii-san.
"It's not a habit I plan to continue," Roy finally replied, tone hard.
And then the general's expression fell. Not in disappointment of the chastisement. This was the look officers had in boring meetings when their failure to complete an administrative project was about to be laid out in excruciating detail. An expected irritation that would require someone to go through a series of pointless motions for reasons they believed were a complete waste of time.
Al read and dismissed the expression and the general, and turned back to Mustang. Roy still looked worn, and there was still the same tension in him that had been present in the bowels of the building. There was also something inflexible and angry, and Al couldn't tell if it was directed at him or the general.
Nor did he care. He probably wore the same look. "And what of the inconclusive reports?"
"Inconclusive reports are a waste of time until they are investigated more fully," the general tried, one more time.
And Mustang said nothing.
So much for not continuing the habit.
Al found it very difficult to ask the next question in a level voice. "When were you going to tell me?"
Mustang, to his credit, didn't flinch. "When we receive confirmation."
When. Not if.
He almost asked for more information. If the report was that they'd been captured, or that they'd been killed. Sorn's name was being bandied around freely, still, so if they really thought they were together-
They didn't. They'd received a report concerning just Edward himself. The general was going to presume they were together until his unconfirmed report was confirmed not because it made it better for Ed, but because it made it better for Parliament to believe there was still a chance Sorn was under some form of control.
Al wanted to grab his right shoulder and rub it until it bled, until the ghost of that squeeze wasn't on it anymore. Then it wouldn't be like everyone else had known before he had. Then it would be something he could worry and wonder about instead of knowing. Then it could be something he had to ask.
"Where is he."
"It doesn't matter," the general declared, in an entirely different tone of voice. It was a sharp reminder that Hakuro was indeed a general, and had worked himself up to that position through at least some amount of capable work, because Al was looking at him without meaning to in the slightest. "The trains are occupied carrying soldiers to reinforce our border cities. By the time you secured a car, and even assuming I allowed you passage through checkpoints, at least a day will have passed. Further information will be available long before then."
Meaning confirmation.
"Alphonse, don't make me place you in protective custody," the general continued, slightly more gently. "Check yourself into the hospital. I assure you, the moment we have information I will carry it to you myself if necessary."
Nii-san had gone to war. Even after leaving Germany behind, after everything –
And a State Alchemist in Creta's hands –
"What did the report say?" It was strained. If Ed was in hiding, he would find him. If he was captured, he'd take the enemy camp apart if he had to. If he was still alive –
"If it is confirmed I will relay it to you then," Roy replied, not unkindly. "The best option for you right now is to wait."
" . . . the best option?" A surge of anger pushed the pain in his shoulder to the background, and Al stared at him in open disbelief. "The best option, in your opinion, was to send my brother to war!"
"And you'd rather I sent you?" Mustang snapped in return, facing the famous Elric anger head-on. "And have Ed standing in this office right now?"
"At least he'd be standing!" What if he'd fallen on the field? Been left for dead? Or worse?
"Get a grip, Alphonse," he snarled. "This building wouldn't be standing. He knew what he was walking into, he's not a child-"
Al almost gaped at him. "He walked into it because you asked him to!"
"He went because you're the only two people who fully understand what Sorn was trying to do! The only two that could have succeeded in stopping him!"
Al almost laughed. "One bullet would have stopped him, but the colonel's in her office, so I guess that didn't occur to you?"
Oddly, Roy's eye widened slightly. His voice was angry and flat when he replied. "Have you seen Lieutenant Colonel Havoc or Major Breda recently?"
Alphonse blinked, momentarily taken aback. He'd just been making the point, but now that he thought about it, it was nothing he'd ever suggest or condone unless there was no other choice. Killing Sorn could have been on Hakuro's list. But Mustang's . . ? "What, so Ed wouldn't have to play assassin along with his other roles?"
"That's enough," the general said sternly, stepping between them, and Al was startled to find they were only a few feet apart. "If the report's correct there's nothing to be done. If it's not, you could be scouring the entire west border looking for him. You need to wait."
So much for not knowing what was in the report.
An odd sort of calm seeped into his bones, bringing with it a violent awareness that he was tensing the injured shoulder, and Alphonse gave Hakuro a hard look. "Just long enough for the sedatives to wear off? Or do you intend to keep me under wraps until he's back in Central one way or the other?"
The general glared at him a moment, then heaved a large and deflating sigh. "I'm just trying to prevent you from making a mistake."
"It's too late for that, general sir," he muttered, and flicked his eyes to Mustang before turning his back on them both. "I apparently made it a long time ago." He was mostly to the door before he realized that he had no desire to follow his orders, either, but the shoulder was killing him, and he knew damn well that he needed to take care of it.
Particularly if a mission to Creta was in his immediate future. "Don't try to put me under again." Then he opened the door and walked out, letting it swing shut behind him.
Much as he hated to admit it, Hakuro was right. Waiting really was the best option, the most logical option. The option nii-san wouldn't take.
And yet somehow, his impetuous decisions always turned out right in the end.
The colonel was standing in her office doorway, her eyes searching him, and he tossed the bottle of aspirin in her direction. He didn't look to see if she'd caught it, and he didn't say a word. He simply walked out into the hall, and let his feet take him where they would.
- x -
Author's Notes: I meant to tack on the rest of Mustang and Hakuro's conversation to this, but frankly, I'm kinda tired, and I wanna go to bed. ; ) But I hadn't given anyone any reactions, so here you have it. There are at least six versions of this scene, but this one seemed the most Al. Standard typo disclaimer - if you see them, please point them out! It really is wrapping up soon, I promise . . . the battle for West City will be won or lost by next chapter, and I swear to you that I will answer the question of Ed's fate in the same chapter. (They kind of go together.)