Title: The Forged Alchemist
Disclaimer: I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist.
Summary: The Homunculus have left Amestris in shambles, and the new Fuhrer is an incompetent who is leading the country to downfall. When all hope is lost, Edward puts to the test a theoretical array, and enter Edwin Auric, the son of Hohenheim of Light, and elder half brother to Edward and Alphonse Elric.
A/N: Ok, just so you know, this chapter is going to have a lot of timeskips. I won't go into detail about what takes place out in the field, so I leave that top your imagination.
Chapter 4
October 16, 1895; 0530 Hours
Central Military Academy Dormitory C5-503, Central City, Amestris
Maes glanced out the window as he dressed for the morning classes, and watched as a group of soldiers crossed the parade ground that separated the Military Dormitories from the Academy Dormitories. There was a glint of gold, and one of the soldiers paused and turned, looking for something perhaps? Maes could just barely make out the soldier waving, then it hit him.
Edwin. Maes grinned and waved back, and the speck of gold that was his friend dropped his hand and turned to finish crossing the parade ground to join his fellows.
~*~
0745 Hours
Amestris Military Express Enroute to Ishbal
Edwin stared out the window of the military express and for the first time in years he allowed himself to remember. Not the bad, he couldn't afford to remember the bad things, not when Maes wasn't there to hold him up when the deluge got to be too much, not when Hohenheim was not the silent unseen presence that allowed his son from the future to bleed out as much of the poison from dark memories as could be done in a single night. No, he remembered the games he'd played with Al on the trains, on their way to and from missions, and on the day he had been shipped off to Drachma, the quiet teasing from Mustang and Havoc in a desperate attempt to keep the youngest of their Unit from thinking about what they were being sent out to do. He remembered Hawkeye polishing her guns, and quizzing Edward on the upkeep of the fire arms and their use when Havoc and Mustang could keep up the idle chatter no longer, Fuery and Falman asking about Alphonse's plans now that he had been restored to his body, if Ed intended to ask Winry out when they got back, Breda occasionally interjecting with quips about Rose or Sheiska when Ed clammed up on the matter. Edwin closed his eyes and tilted his head back to rest on the back of the seat and allowed his thoughts to drift…
A penny for your thoughts, Boss?
Tawny eyes snapped open at the remembered voice of an old friend, and Edwin's eyes shifted to the seat across from him, which he knew was empty, but was filled by Mustang, and Hawkeye, while Havoc watched him from over the top of the seat behind the one opposite him.
We're still here for you Ed. Mustang's voice was gentle. We'll always be here for you.
Would you like to talk, Edward? Hawkeye's tone was the gentlest that Edwin had ever heard from her.
I miss you… he said silently, knowing that the plaintive tone carried over. I know where each of you are right now, but they are not you… I miss having Mustang tease me, I miss Hughes shoving a handful of pictures in my face, I miss seeing Hawkeye shoot Havoc for smoking in the office,, miss sharing donuts with Breda while talking codes with Falman and having Fuery and Al off in a corner cooing over Al's newest stray… I miss home. I miss having Winry throw wrenches at me, miss Granny Pinako's stew, miss Hawkeye's cake, miss playing with Elysia and Al in the snow while Gracia watches from the window while making her pies… Hell, I even miss turning my head when on assignment and catching a glimpse of Armstrong trying to be discrete. I want to go home!
Edwin dashed away unshed tears with the back of a gloved hand and whispered once again, "I want to go home…" with the sinking realization, one that still startled him after all these years that there was no home to go back to, not when home was where Mustang would make cracks about his height, and Hawkeye would shoot at their slacking CO to get him to work and Havoc lived in perpetual fear that this next girlfriend would fall prey to Mustang's charm, where Breda stuffed his face while coming up with new plans and tactics and Falman was a walking encyclopedia on military protocol and Fuery's bleeding heart was cut by every stray he passed and Al commiserated with him about the cruelty of a world that would allow such adorable puppies and kittens would be left outside in the rain to fend for themselves.
Heh, Havoc's smile was sad, Even after all these years… Still just a kid after all…
I know, Ed, I know, Mustang's sole working eye was soft and suspiciously shiny, We miss you too, brat. If there was the choice, I'd rather you were kicking down my door…
Oh, Edward… Hawkeye's face was gentle, We know… Nothing's the same anymore… But you have to be strong. We're relying on you…
I know, I know, Edwin replied, his heart breaking, But I can't do this… I thought I could, but I was being arrogant… I didn't think about how long it would take… I can't do this alone!
Listen here, Edward Elric and listen closely, Mustang's voice was firm, You can do this, you were chosen for a reason. And you don't have to do it alone, that's why you were given papers to prove your story. So suck it up, Fullmetal!
You always managed the impossible, Boss, Havoc agreed, I have faith in you. We all do.
Hawkeye smiled as the three faded way. You'll manage, Edward. You always do… and when everything is over, we'll meet again…
Take care of yourself Boss!
Good bye, Fullmetal.
Farewell… Everyone…
Edwin never noticed when he dropped into the darkness of sleep, nor was he aware of the single shining tear that slipped from his closed eyes, down a chiseled face, to hang, glittering, in the air before hitting the blue fabric of his uniform trousers with a quiet splash.
~*~
October 19, 1895; 0700 Hours
Ishbal
Edwin could not help but feel a sense of nostalgia as he marched down the street, his shoulders back, head high, back ramrod straight, though his eyes darted here and there, surveying everything in his vicinity, including the hostile stares from the natives, and several poorly concealed weapons. Beside him, Roy struggled to keep up, his posture apprehensive.
"Calm down, Flame," Edwin murmured, "Think of this as practice with very realistic target dummies."
"You've got to be kidding!" Roy gasped, unknowingly echoing his companion's same response when he'd only been sixteen.
Edwin glanced at Roy and said quietly, "Sorry, Flame, I'm afraid not." His fierce tawny gaze turned to survey their location once more and he added, "It's what a friend told me before I left. Apparently, it was intended to be supportive."
"Well, it's not," Roy grumbled.
Edwin tightened his grip on his rifle and lifted it slightly and sent an icy glare at a grungy man who hastily dropped a brandished knife and stumbled away from the diminutive soldier. Roy swallowed hard, intimidated, when Edwin turned a bland tawny eyed stare toward him.
"Then you had best not let it show, Major." Edwin jerked his chin toward a pair of hostile eyed matrons, one of whom had her hand in a basket, clutching a small, undoubtedly sharp knife. "They'll be all over you if you let them know you're anything but confident in what you're doing. We're Terriers trying to establish dominance over a kennel full of Bulldogs determined to keep their territory."
The newly minted Flame Alchemist winced, "What lovely imagery, Forge."
"Keep it in mind, Flame," Edwin said coldly, "Out here, we're dogs who are no longer in our own kennel, and our COs want us to establish dominance over another kennel, to bring it under the Amestrian flag, and we, being the trained attack dogs, are to do it."
"Seriously, Forge," Roy replied, "Can we not talk about this like that?"
The dark haired man's discomfort reminded Edwin that even if it was Roy Mustang he was talking to, it wasn't his Roy Mustang, the annoying, manipulative, lazy bastard. The Roy Mustang beside him was a wet behind the ears, newly minted as a Major, and just out of the Academy, and had yet to develop the tolerance for the type of morbid, self deprecating humor that accomplished soldiers were prone to belting out with in high-stress situations. The aureate man softened, "Of course. I'm sorry, I'm just as nervous as you are."
"You sure have an interesting way of showing it, Forge."
Edwin shook his head as he spun around, hefted his rifle, cocked the hammer and pulled the trigger. A man fell from the roof even as a bullet hit a wall behind Edwin. The people in the street scattered and Roy dragged out his sidearm and fired a bullet into the face of a man who was lifting a rifle, the muzzle pointed at the two soldiers. For what seemed like an eternity, Roy was only aware of the blood pounding in his ears, the recoil of his gun in his hand, the glint of the sun off black metal and the sounds of Edwin behind him firing the rifle and reloading as they dodged bullets and took cover before taking the risk of exposing themselves to fire at the enemy. And then there was the snap and flare of Edwin's alchemy and the ground lurched and screams were cut short as the air stilled and took on the coppery scent of blood.
"What the hell was that?" he whispered to his comrade.
"That was me taking down a sniper and some other assholes taking offense to me doing my duty," Edwin's voice was tense. "Come on, let's finish our patrol and get someone out here to clean up."
Roy glanced at his fellow alchemist as they left their hiding places. He tried not to look at the spikes made of earth protruding from the ground or the bodies impaled upon them. Edwin paused and touched his palms together before brushing the tips of his fingers over the ground. There was a rumble and the spikes reverted to their original state of flat ground. Roy shivered as they walked past the bodies, stepping over pools of copper scented crimson that spread around the cadavers.
~*~
October 26, 1895; 1334 Hours
Ishbal, Amestrian Military Field Hospice, Civilian Clinic D
"There now, Corporal, try not to bang against anything and the stitches should hold," the cheery tones of the doctor rang through the clinic as aforementioned Corporal left the back room, "and I don't care if you're on the field!" a woman in a doctor's coat trailed the soldier to the door, "You will not take out those stitches on your own! Now then, Majors, what can we do for you today?"
Roy shook his head, "It's nothing serious," he replied, "Just a small scratch."
"Don't listen to him," another alchemist he'd been paired with for that day said, "He blew up a building and got clipped by the shrapnel."
"It's not something to worry about Thermal!"
"Oh, you might think so, but Forge has other ideas," the Thermal Alchemist replied. "You might not have to deal with him after this, but I do. For some unfathomable reason, he has a vested interest in your well being, and I'm not going to get roasted because you want to be stubborn."
"Why would he roast you?" Roy was confused, "Isn't he an Earth Based alchemist?"
Thermal rolled his eyes, "Think, Flame! He's called the Forge for a reason!"
"All right, calm down, the both of you," she smiled and gestured into the room. "Come in, take a seat and show me the injury. I'm Elaine Rockbell by the way…"
~*~
"I don't think I've ever met anyone whose automail takes a beating like yours, Edwin," Jonathan Rockbell mused, "and you're probably the only soldier I know who can put their automail through hell and still have only surface damage."
He lightly prodded the skin around the casing for the port and Edwin twitched. "How are Trisha and the boys, by the way?"
"I wouldn't know," Jonathan said wryly as he picked up a pen light and a pen and lightly prodded the insides of the port, "You'll have to ask Elaine, and she's out front dealing with a group that just came in."
"Lovely… Ah!"
"Oh… I see, here's the problem. This wire has managed to wrap itself around a bolt, and one of the screws is loose. Easy enough to fix." Jonathan put away the light and the pen and straightened, "I must say though, Ed, I never thought I'd get to see the new generation of Rockbell Automail before it even exists."
Edwin laughed, "You should be proud. For all that she'll grow into a vicious wrench throwing Napoleonic power monger, Winry made exceptionally sturdy and functional combat automail that was among the lightest in its class, and she manages it in three days."
Jonathan shook his head as he rummaged through a toolbox, "Ah, you're ruining it for me, Ed! How can I be proud of her when I already know some of her best achievements to date before she's even seven?"
Edwin chuckled, "You'll be proud of her either way, I'm sure."
"Too right," Jonathan's features became solemn as he turned back toward the elder version of his daughter's friend, "Brace yourself, Edo-kun, this is going to sting."
Edwin's face went blank and still as the male Rockbell began to work on the port.
Five minutes later, Jonathan straightened and moved away from the cot to clean his tools and packed them away. He glanced over at the pale faced alchemist and smiled. "Now to reattach the arm. Would you like some water before we start?"
"Just get it over with," Edwin's voice was clipped, "I'll get something to drink from the Mess before my patrol."
"Alright," Jonathan picked up the automail arm walked over to the blonde. "On three then… One… Two… Three!" he pushed the arm into the port, and Edwin threw his head back with a pained howl.
~*~
"What the hell was that?!" Roy leapt to his feet as a pained howl drifted through the walls.
"Sit down, Major!" Elaine barked at the two alchemists, "Have you never heard someone getting automail reattached before?"
"That's what that awful noise was?" Thermal demanded.
"Of course," Elaine's face was unperturbed, "Having the limbs attached hurts, but considering that the actual surgery is done not only with the patient wide awake, but without anesthesia, well, having the limbs put in is a walk in the park."
She stepped back, "Well then, Major Mustang, change those bandages everyday, don't get them wet, and come back in a week to get those stitches taken out. And don't even think about taking the out yourself!" She turned to the Thermic Alchemist, "As for you, Major Thompson, how is your side?"
~*~
Edwin panted harshly as the pain ebbed and swallowed hard before his face went blank and he stood on shaky legs. Jonathan stepped back and watched as the masks were rebuilt on the young man's face while he pulled his button up shirt and uniform jacket back on.
"Thank you, Doctor Rockbell, for all of your assistance," Edwin said coolly once the last of the buttons had been done up.
"It was my pleasure, Major," the male Rockbell responded, just as distant as the young Major nodded and stalked out of the clinic.
~*~
November 31, 1895; 1430 Hours
Ishbal, Brigadier General Basque Gran's Command
"The patrols have been attacked by insurgents more and more often," Brigadier General Basque Gran said to the assembled alchemists. "From this point on, we will be taking a more active approach to clearing out the insurgents. Cut them down, shoot them if they run, kill them if they fight back, destroy their temples and meeting places. Hunt down each and every Ishbalan who would dare refuse the hand of peace from the Fuhrer. With every alchemist they kill, they wound hundreds of soldiers. With every soldier they kill, the closer this conflict moves toward Amestrian civilians. Destroy their spirits so utterly that they have no choice but to surrender. Those are the orders from His Excellency, the Lord Fuhrer King Bradley."
"As for those who surrender, bring them to the holding camps," Gran continued. "The following alchemists will begin construction of Holding Camp A under the command of Lieutenant Colonel Hawthorne, Major Noah Reese, Major Leanne Granger, Major Henry Maxwell, Major Thomas Morrison. Holding Camp B under the command of Lieutenant Colonel Victoria Delaunay, Major Justin Macmillan, Major Reginald Carey…"
~*~
December 13, 1895; 2046 Hours
Ishbal
Roy shivered as he huddled into his blanket, glancing over at his comrade who was on his fourth and last meal of the day. It was strange, that after almost three months in the field, with supplies slow in the coming, how he could immediately pick out the soldiers with automail. They were the ones who, despite the rationing, had an extra meal to the day, and were also given larger portions, though not by much. Auric, however, was not stingy and had a habit of sharing his meals with his "close acquaintances" or hoarding that extra biscuit or two to gnaw on later.
None of them, those who were privileged to be considered "close acquaintances" by Edwin Auric, had known why he was one of the soldiers who were given more food despite the shortage, until the Blood Iron Alchemist had walked by right as Auric offered up his biscuit to shut up Kimblee's whining about the unfairness of certain soldiers receiving the extra meal despite the rationing.
The resultant lecture could be heard above the gunfire and explosions five rows of tents over in all directions. Auric had looked away from them, face bland, with only a faint flush on his cheeks to show his embarrassment, and Kimblee, whom, it turned out, had received a good bit of Auric's portions in the blonde's attempts to shut him up, could not look the blonde in the face for several days in chagrin. Not to mention how other automail bearing soldiers gave the explosive expert the cold shoulder until Auric pushed Kimblee into a pile of feces in exasperation during one of their patrols.
"What's up, Mustang?"
Roy blinked and found himself looking into tired tawny eyes. Smudges of dark shadows under those piercing eyes belied the blonde alchemist's exhaustion, and although the extra rations were meant to keep the automail users functioning, Roy could see the hollows in Auric's face, the stick thin wrists, and there were days when he shuffled along, as if his automail was becoming too heavy to bear.
"Just worried," he made himself answer, "Even despite the extra rations, you're getting so thin…"
Auric smiled and set aside his empty plate, "You're not looking too sharp yourself, Mustang. Don't think too much into it. I'm confident that when the next caravan of troops comes in, we'll probably get more supplies with them."
"If only Maes were here…"
"He'll be here soon enough," Auric murmured, "Just don't wish too hard. Things are only going to get worse Mustang." He stood up and stretched the kinks out of his back and handed off the plate to the Corporal whose duty was to collect the Fourth Meal plates from the automail users. "Come on, Mustang," he said after checking his watch, "Buck up. We have buildings to blow up, and if you plug up your ears, you won't hear the screaming. In that case, you can pretend to be on the training fields and enjoy the conflagration."
"Is that how you're keeping it together?"
"Hell no," Edwin shook his head with a rueful smile, "I tell myself I can't loose it here, because I've got a sick step-mother back home and two little half brothers living off my paycheck, and if I go round the bend, how will they eat? I hate that we have to kill kids and civilians as much as the next soldier out there, but what other choice have we got? We're soldiers at war, Mustang, all we can do is suck it up, follow orders, and do our jobs. I can tell you this though; the guys doing our psyche evaluations when we get back are going to have a field day with the lot of us. That's more paperwork for them and sick leave for us. So buck up, get those spark gloves on, and let's move out."
"How the hell do you know what to say to make me feel better in this mess, Auric?" Roy muttered as he tossed his blanket into their shared tent and checked his gun and ammo.
"Because you and I are much more alike than you think," the blonde replied. "Done?" Roy nodded and Edwin clapped him on the shoulder. "Great, let's go then."
~*~
December 16, 1895; 1200 Hours
Ishbal, Brigadier General Basque Gran's Command
Edwin stood at attention before the desk of the Brigadier General with four other alchemists, three male and one female as the Blood Iron Alchemist explained what the Fuhrer's newest orders entailed. A box was opened and pushed across the desk toward them, revealing five copper rings set with red stones, and Edwin swallowed hard as he struggled to keep his face blank. The five stepped forward to take a ring each before stepping back and returning to formation.
"These rings are amplifiers, created by the Crystal Alchemist in an attempt to find a way to amplify a transmutation and bypass the rule of equivalent trade," Gran said, "You five will be testing them on the field. If they work as well as the Crystal's theories say they should, we will be assigning one to each alchemist. You will report in at the end of each of your shifts. Do not take these rings off for any reason. Is that understood?!"
"Sir, yes sir!" the five alchemists barked.
~*~
December 21, 1895; 2327 Hours
Ishbal, Holding Camp D
"I can't take this anymore!" a red haired, green eyed woman cried. "When Brigadier Gran said we would be testing the amplifiers on the field, I didn't think he meant filling the barracks with poisonous gases to kill civilians and children! I didn't join the military to commit murder!"
"Belladonna, that's not our place to decide," a middle aged man with golden hair bleached almost silver from the sun said.
"You wouldn't understand, Corundum!" the Belladonna Alchemist cried, "You're an earth based alchemist! You're not asked to draw natural toxins from the earth and air to kill people with! You just dispose of the bodies!" she spun around and grabbed the wrist of another golden haired alchemist and cried, "You understand, don't you, Forge?"
"I don't see what you have to complain about," Edwin snapped, "You flood sealed barracks with poisons at night. Your targets are dead before they know what's happened. Hell, they don't even wake up! Goldenlake floods his barracks, and they wake up and scream and thrash in terror while there is space and air available and drown anyway. I set them on fire then have to listen to my marks scream when they wake up to find their skin melting and their neighbors only so much ash and flames, and they run and scream and pound on the doors and walls, and if they don't trample each other to death, they bake or fry or suffocate."
"Forge is right, Belladonna," a lanky pale skinned man with red hair replied, "You at least don't need to hear your marks panic and scream. Goldenlake and Forge do." He turned to a swarthy man with dark hair and sea grey eyes. "Tell her, Goldenlake, tell her how three times out of ten, when we bury Forge's marks, some are still moaning in pain. Tell her, when Forge cremates Rock Grove's and my marks, seven times out of ten, they're still coherent enough to scream."
"That is true," the Goldenlake Alchemist agreed. "Take heart, Belladonna, your marks don't suffer as much as the rest of ours."
"How can you say that?! They might be dark skinned with red eyes and completely opposing beliefs, but the Ishbalans are humans also! Rock Grove, tell them!"
"Yes, they are human," a large man with watery blue eyes rumbled, "However, they are also the enemy and the Fuhrer wants them dead."
"But the children!"
"Unnecessary deaths," Edwin sighed, "I'm sure we all agree with you on that, Belladonna, but the decision is out of our hands."
"I just wanted access to the library!"
"Then you should have specialized in something other than poisons," Corundum said firmly.
That was the end of that, but that same evening, it was another poison specialist who wore the amplifier ring. None of them said a word about the change. And when Edwin was sent to hunt down an insurgent who had smuggled a group of children out of the holding camps, if the insurgent turned out to be a red haired woman who specialized in toxic organic alchemy, he did not mention it.
He had in his possession, a small sack of poisons, which he kept in his pack and frightened his friends by contemplating its contents with a single minded intensity when his nightmares were at their worst. And despite what the Flame, Crimson, and Strong Arm Alchemists thought, it was not because the Forge was suicidal.
~*~
January 8, 1895; 1937 Hours
Ishbal, Brigadier General Basque Gran's Command
Roy swallowed hard as he studied the plain bronze band with a single red stone. So this was what the Crystal Alchemist was working on, a crystal form that would enhance an alchemist's power and accelerate transmutations, completely negating the need for equivalent exchange. He glanced at Auric out of the corner of his eye, but found that his companion's face was inscrutable as he stood at attention, eyes staring straight ahead. The dark haired alchemist knew now, why Auric was so distant these past few days, and understood especially the sudden appearance of the amplifiers on certain alchemists long before they were passed out to the rest. Auric and the other four had been field testing them, and since they were being distributed, the amplifiers were obviously a success.
The Flame Alchemist shivered. He knew that Auric was deadly at the best of times, but how much more devastating was his comrade when he had the amplifier on him? Hell, how much more devastating would be his own flames now that he had an amplifier of his own? What about Kimblee?
"The Fuhrer has ordered the complete destruction of Ishbal. Alchemists, you have free reign from this point on. Dismissed!" Brigadier Gran barked, and Roy numbly followed his fellow alchemists out of the command tent.
"Major Mustang," Roy jumped at the voice, and spun around, his fingers prepared to snap, and relaxed at the sight of the Strong Arm Alchemist.
"Geez, Alex!" he cried, dropping his hand to his side, "Don't do that!"
"My apologies," Armstrong inclined his head, "I did not mean to startle you."
"Can you believe it?" Kimblee was practically giddy with glee, "I can't believe Auric was part of the tester team and he kept this from us!"
"This will not end well," Armstrong rumbled, "Ishbal will only get bloodier with the release of the amplifiers."
"Armstrong, you have a talent for understatement," Auric said darkly as he strode past them. "And don't let that power get to your head, the three of you, you especially, Kimblee." He turned and all three alchemists stiffened at the dark look on his face, "I should also add that one of the alchemists testing the stones had a fatal rebound, so we know these amplifiers have limits. As such, I would suggest practicing moderation." With that dire warning issued, he spun around and strode away.
"You should take your own advice, Forge!" Kimblee yelled at the blonde's retreating back.
~*~
January 11, 1895; 1200 Hours
Library of Ishbala the Divine, Ishbal
"Hiya Roy! Great to see you Ed!"
"Maes…" Edwin pinched the bridge of his nose to release tension, "We're on a battlefield if you haven't noticed, and Flame and I need to hit our marks and finish our patrol right now, so mind explaining why you're here?"
"Aww… Come on! You should be glad to see me! This express brought fresh blood and new supplies, you know!"
Roy exchanged a look with Edwin, and both agreed silently that Maes was much too cheerful for someone who had just been pulled out of the Academy early to be thrown into the fighting. Something had to be done, and soon before someone decided to kill Maes for being an idiot.
"Well, you'll be happy to know this, Roy!" Maes grinned foolishly, "I ran into an old friend of yours! Remember a Riza Hawkeye?"
"Top of her class in sharpshooting and the use of firearms," Edwin recited, "Daughter to the late Joseph Hawkeye, renowned for his use and study of fire alchemy, and one time teacher to our walking cremation factory over here," he jerked his head in the direction of Roy.
"You're one to talk," Roy huffed as he crossed his arms over his chest, "You practice fire alchemy also. And I am more than just a walking crematory, Forge."
"Not until your gloves get wet," Edwin said dryly, "Speaking of which, do take some time to contemplate the chemical composition of water. Last I checked Hydrogen and Oxygen are highly flammable gases."
~*~
January 29, 1895; 1345 Hours
Ishbal
"Orders from Brigadier General Gran from the Fuhrer! There have been escapes from the holding camps! All forces are to pursue and terminate all Isbalans. No exceptions!"
Edwin glanced at Roy who stared at the courier, onyx eyes wide in hopeless horror. He and Maes exchanged worried looks and Maes nodded. They needed to snap Roy out of this funk before he did something stupid.
"We are keeping you from your duties, Private," the blonde said firmly, "You may go."
"Yes sir, Major Auric sir!" the private saluted and left.
Maes reached out and gripped the dark haired alchemist's shoulder once the soldier was gone, "Roy?"
"How…" the dark haired alchemist swallowed hard and spoke again, his voice harsh, "How can the Fuhrer give such orders?! How does he sleep at night after giving orders for unnecessary bloodshed!?"
"Roy," Maes said gently, "have you considered that maybe there is a good reason for these orders?"
"There is no good reason for these orders," Edwin growled, "I should know, but this is not the time or the place. Until then, we need to go. Now."
~*~
~*~
TBC…
A/N: Please reveiw? I like getting feedback! Please don't make me beg!!!