August 12th, 1963
It was amazing how much easier it was to force the Drachmans into retreat when they started playing on their insecurities. With the information they managed to gather on the towns and how the Drachmans were handling things, as well as what they had learned about their alchemists, the Amestrians on the Western Front had surprising success over the next weeks. They pushed the Drachmans back past Porto, and then kept them running all the way back to the bridge. It was not quite a rout, but it was beginning to feel like one.
Reports from the other fronts had mingled success. There were more Drachmans arriving on the front in North City. They were dealing with technology appropriated from Briggs, though they seemed to be handling it fairly well. The warning to look out for anything particularly high-tech came in a dispatch. Still, the new techniques were nullifying the Drachman alchemists. If that was all they had to throw at Amestris after their initial drive to take Briggs, than this wasn't going to be as much of a challenge as Edward had feared and expected.
As soon as they knew what the alchemists were up to on a given day, Ed could order his alchemists to counter it with their usual ingenuity and variety of attacks, focusing on things that could not be countered with whatever the Drachmans had prepared.
By the twelfth, all they had left to do was drive the Drachmans back over the bridge and make it too costly for them to make another attempt. Then they would control the front, and continue pushing the Drachmans back.
Why did it always sound so easy on paper? The challenge was going to be keeping the Drachmans from controlling the bridge, which the Amestrians would need to keep up the supply chain further north, but the Drachmans were using to keep themselves supplied. Breda had given Ed very strict orders not to blow the bridge.
Which only makes this that much more complicated. At least as far as the need to push the Drachmans back enough in one push that the Amestrians could solidly hold and control the bridge.
So far, it was going pretty well, Ed thought as he ducked behind a large rock, avoiding the gunfire whizzing over his head. For a battle. He was really getting tired of combat. Maybe when this was over he'd consider retirement. Yeah, right.
The Drachmans were backed up, having paused in their retreat, covering the bridge that straddled the river-made ravine. But there they had stopped, holding for nearly an hour now despite the mounting dead.
The radio in his pocket crackled and Ed pulled it out. "Fullmetal here."
"It's Emerald," Lyssandra commented from the other end. "We've got a problem. The Drachmans have a whole caravan of supplies and fresh troops coming up the road! We've got to act now, or we're going to lose our advantage."
Damn it. "A little warning would have been nice," Ed grumbled. Frantically he combed his mind for a plan. The soldiers were just going to keep shooting and following orders no matter what the alchemists did, and he didn't have time to confer with the General in charge of the attack. "I hear you. Listen, Lyssandra; I want you to get your team over there and blow that bridge."
"Breda specifically told us not to do that," her reply was surprised, then annoyed. "Do you want to go against a direct order?"
"I'll take the heat, just trust me on this." Ed replied. He didn't have time to explain.
"Yes sir, Fullmetal." Lyssandra sighed. "But it's on your head."
"That's all right. It usually is." Ed smirked. "Fullmetal out." He stuffed the radio back in his pocket.
He didn't know how long it would take for the alchemists to get close enough to blow the bridge. That was all right. He had his own objective; creating chaos amongst the Drachman ranks. Clapping his hands together, Ed darted back out from behind the rock, slamming his hands into the ground. Why try something new when a tried and true tactic would work just as well?
With variation anyway; amongst the front line of Drachmans – as far as he could reach without overdoing it – rods of solid earth shot upward, tossing soldiers left and right. Shouts of fear filled the air and the regular pattern of gunfire was broken in places.
Ed dodged a splatter of fire and hid again, using the same trick over and over. Always the Drachmans got hurt; never did he catch an Amestrian in his attacks. That was what years of experience earned him; accuracy and stamina. They had been at this for some time, and while he was tired, he didn't have a problem keeping up with the younger guys.
The alchemy circles in use today by the DAs seemed to involve turning rocks into cheap explosives. The occasional rocks flying through the air would explode when they got close. Distractions, but hardly the damage Ed would have expected. The more he dealt with these guys, the less impressed he was. There has to be a more experienced alchemist around here somewhere preparing them. But where, he had yet to discern. The better alchemists were almost certainly staying as far out of harm's way as they could; the cowards.
A cluster of rocks rained down in his direction and instead of bothering to dodge them, Ed blocked them with a wave of dirt that bent and recoiled, sending them flying back into the Drachman army.
The explosion that came next was so huge he stopped dead. No way those had made that sound! Peering around the dirt he heard a roaring and saw the bridge cracking as a wall of water slammed down the river over it, pulling the Drachmans off with it; dozens of them at a time.
The bridge creaked, cracked, and broke.
For a moment, as the water drained away, there was no shooting, no shouting; an eerie silence fell as everyone – Drachmans included – stared at where the bridge had been. Then, the Drachmans seemed to remember where they were. They turned, started to take aim, but in the chaos no orders came. Not until the ranks parted and a man came forward and shouted in heavily accented Amestrian "We surrender!"
It was only the Drachmans that hadn't already crossed the river – maybe a couple thousand people – but it would do! Ed waited as terms for the surrender were worked out by the General with the commander of the captive Drachman forces. He sauntered on around himself to the edge of the river ravine and looked down. A good chunk of the bridge was still hanging below on both sides. It would be enough.
He found the rest of the alchemists sitting along the edge as well. Fischer was looking smug. "That what you were looking for, Fullmetal?"
Ed grinned back. "Good enough." He looked across the large expanse. On the other side, perhaps forty yards distant, the Drachmans weren't bothering to try shooting at them, but appeared to be pulling back further, taking stock of their losses. Ed estimated they had probably lost an extra five hundred men just by having the bridge taken out like that. Perhaps not a large number compared to the whole army, but a large chunk in an unexpected fashion.
"Gee thanks," Fischer replied. "Now, just how are you going to explain this to Breda?"
"That's what I'd like to know." The General – Talmanes – from Western Headquarters, was scowling down at Ed as he approached with long strides. "Breda's going to throw a fit when he hears what your men did."
"You can lay all the blame on me," Ed smiled calmly. "It was my order, and it was a sound one."
"How do you figure that?" Talmanes asked, skepticism plain on his blocky features.
Ed couldn't help laughing. Had no one else thought of this? "It's simple," he replied. "As soon as we're lined up again and ready to march, I'll just rebuild the bridge."
Too many stunned faces on his fellow alchemists followed that statement. Had they learned nothing from his training?
Lyssandra laughed first. "A bit sure of yourself aren't you?"
Ed shrugged. "I've reconstructed more complicated things with alchemy before." Like entire buildings from rubble; there was plenty of bridge here, and plenty of raw materials in stone and wood to replace the rest. "When you're ready to go after the Drachman army and force the march, General Talmanes, I'll put it back together."
Talmanes looked flummoxed, then snorted and nodded. "As long as it works, Fullmetal. I've never heard of such an unorthodox method."
Tore snickered and commented quietly, though Ed caught it. "He hasn't read much about Fullmetal, has he?"
August 18th, 1963
"Beautiful day for a battle isn't it?" Roy commented briskly as he strode out of the tent ahead of Riza. He had a grin on his face that morning and liveliness in his stride that Riza couldn't help but be happy to see, even if it was because he enjoyed indulging his ability to flame things and fight a clearly defined enemy.
"The day is beautiful," Riza agreed, trying not to smile too openly as she fell into step beside her husband. "Do you plan to at least eat breakfast before you start slinging fire around?"
Roy chuckled. "I suppose I should."
"Good," Riza nodded as they moved towards the mess tent. She knew Roy was partially joking. He ate as much as any of the other alchemists these days, but for the first time in years he was making use of every bit of it with his transmutations. Riza couldn't remember the last time she had seen him put his skills to work so often, or with such creativity. Nor could she remember the last time he had seen him in such high spirits. He really was an old war dog at heart, and having an enemy and something to do brought out spirit she hadn't seen in a long time.
It was not early morning, at least not for a war camp, but around eight in the morning. After yesterday's rather decisive victory in succeeding in pushing the Drachmans back up the mountains several hundred yards, out of the pass they had been attempting to occupy for quite some time. The Drachmans trapped on their side of the ravine a while back had been defeated and the living captured.
There was unlikely to actually be much of a battle today, but Riza was good with that. Every once in a while, people needed rest. She found that, after so many years, she still disliked battle, though she had not yet hesitated to pull the trigger in this one. Mostly other than keeping an eye out on Roy's back, she had been used to carefully snipe any targets worth picking off; Drachman alchemists or officer's who seemed competent. "So what's being served this morning?" Riza smiled as they walked into the mess tent.
It was Russell Tringham who answered, waving them over. "Treats, we hope!"
Treats? Riza and Roy joined the small crowd of state alchemists – several of whom held mail – and in the center was Alphonse opening a fairly good sized box. Riza understood immediately. There was only one thing Gracia and Elicia would send in that kind of bulk. Indeed, a minute later the box was opened to reveal several tightly wrapped packages of home-made baked goods, and a letter.
"Don't tell me you're going to eat all that yourself," Roy snorted as he looked into the package. "That must be days of baking in there."
Al snickered. "No no… this specifically says I have to share with you guys," he tapped the note as he read. "State alchemists, family, and friends."
"That's most of the army right?" Felix Tringham chuckled.
"There might still be leftovers," Al commented as he pulled out box after box of home-made cookies, two bundt cakes, several boxes of fudge, three pies, and sweet rolls. "This box really could feed half a division at least."
"You're lucky," one of the other alchemists laughed. "All my girlfriend sends is letters! I wish she baked like that!"
"So come have some," Al replied. "There's plenty for everyone."
"Cookies and cake for breakfast?" Riza commented with clear amusement as everyone started to dig in.
"Why not?" Roy grinned, taking a huge chocolate chip cookie and chomping out a large bite that he clearly relished. "What's the harm?"
For once, she really couldn't argue. With a smile, Riza just shook her head slightly. "Point taken. Alphonse, may I have a sweet roll please?" Besides, it would be a real shame to let lovingly prepared baked goods go to waste.
August 25th, 1963
The town of Larendon had never looked prettier, Tore thought as they rolled in a little after lunch time. "Beautiful sight," he grinned as he looked out the window.
Beside him, Cal was leaned back against the seat, his arms crossed and hands behind his head. "That it is. It doesn't look like a war zone."
"It's also got real beds, food, and beer," Tore snickered. "Come on, we actually have a week of leave! A whole week to do whatever we want." They hadn't had leave since they left North City, not really. Tore was aching for some freedom. "I wonder how Lilah and Cassidy are doing." They had been trucked south as soon as the village they had been in was reclaimed and back under Amestrian control.
"Good question," Cal glanced out the window. "You said Lilah has an apartment here right? So it'd make sense that they might be here. It's not like they'd have anywhere else to go."
"Not like most people do," Tore pointed out with a sigh. So many displaced folks without family living elsewhere to turn to or stay with; the government was already setting up refugee areas in the cities with temporary housing and food. Thousands of people had fled their small villages – and a few not-so-small towns- getting away from the Drachmans. Tore wondered if they would ever be able to go home after this. Sure they will. That's what we're working for after all.
As they got out of the truck, Tore saw Fullmetal booking it towards the train tracks, where there happened to be a train; military probably, sitting at the station. "I wonder what he's got planned for leave," he pondered. He definitely seemed in a hurry to catch that train! Ahhhh.
Cal seemed to have the same idea at the same time. "Well if you had the choice and were him, where would you go?"
August 28th, 1963
Winry pushed a stray strand of hair out of her face as she stepped back from the drill and wiped her face with a reasonably clean cloth. "There we go. Finished!" She picked up the auto-mail arm piece she had been working on and gave it a final look-over. It would need to be polished and the edges buffed and made sure there were no little snags, but other than that it was perfectly good for use. Tomorrow, the soldier laid up with a busted arm would have his replacement.
"Hey there, beautiful. How's about a date tonight?"
Winry spun, startled, then her eyes lit up and with a squeal she practically leaped across the span of feet separating her from the grinning man in the doorway. She almost crushed the flowers in his hand as she hugged him and gave him an enthusiastic kiss! "Edward," she gasped finally. "When did you get here?"
"Got off the train an hour ago," Ed laughed, hugging her back, though he seemed reluctant to let go. Winry could hardly blame him for that. They hadn't seen each other in almost three months, and she'd heard little more of him than usual except for notes in the reports that had him alive and unharmed. Still, seeing him for herself – feeling firm solid muscle and auto-mail beneath her hands – was far better than trusting in words printed in reports she got second hand. Though Ed had managed to call her once. "I've got two days before I have to head back."
"That's all?" She couldn't help feeling slightly disappointed, but she supposed that even if he had a week off, most of it would have to be spent on a train to come to North City and get back again. "I'm so glad you're here." She hugged him again, appreciative that he would spend most of that leave traveling for what little time they could have together! "Well it's better than nothing."
"I was going crazy without you around," Ed admitted softly. "So what do you say? When do you get off? I thought we could have dinner and then spend some time… alone."
Winry chuckled. Of course he would want that. "Sounds like a date to me," she kissed him again. "Let me finish cleaning up and we can get out of here." That had been the last piece she had to finish today, and she suspected cutting out fifteen minutes early wasn't going to be a problem. She pretty much got to set her own hours, and it was by her own choice that she often worked late.
She felt pleasantly self-aware as she cleaned up, knowing that Ed was standing there, openly watching her every move. While she certainly didn't mind, there was an appreciation in his eyes – and a longing – she was always pleased to see. It was nice to be desired; especially by her own husband!
"Ready to go," she told him a few minutes later, and grinned as he tucked one arm around her waist.
"Great. Let's go get cleaned up and find someplace to eat. Is there any place left aside from the mess?" Ed asked as they left the hospital. "I am so sick of field rations it's not funny."
Food first of course. Winry smiled knowingly. "There are a couple of places still open; mostly the bars that also serve food. They make a killing come pay days around here." Since there were so few left, they were actually getting fantastic business.
"Well then let's paint the town," Ed brought his hand up; the one holding the bouquet she had nearly smashed earlier. "Every beautiful woman deserves to be treated now and then."
Winry took them this time and sniffed the red and white blossoms. "They're beautiful. Thank you." As much pleasure as she got out of the compliment, was grateful for the chance to change. She smelled like machine oil and smudged coveralls were hardly appropriate dinner attire. Not that anyone in North City was dressed much better lately.
"I wish it could have been something more," Ed admitted, giving her a squeeze.
"Just having you is enough," Winry objected, smiling as she leaned her head against his shoulder. "You're alive and uninjured, and your auto-mail is even in one piece!"
Ed laughed. "I'm glad you noticed. You know, I really wanted to get it blown up again, but I thought you might object."
"Tease." Though she was enjoying every moment. There were times when Ed joked rarely. That he could now was a sign that he was all right in other areas that counted too, like his head.
"And you're not?" Ed countered, pulling her closer. "Always wearing clothes that only let me dream about what's underneath?"
Winry couldn't resist a wink. "Well when we get back to the room, you won't have to dream."
August 29th, 1963
If Edward had his choice, he wouldn't move from this place, this time, this company, for anything; comfortably wrapped around Winry, cradling her in his arms after a long, intoxicating night. They hadn't slept much, and dinner had been delayed by another need completely. After three months, having Winry change in front of him had been too much to bother with self control.
Dinner had been brief, and then they had once more retired to their little room in the barracks, completely absorbed in the each other for much longer than Ed had remembered he could manage. Either his endurance was up, or he was just that desperate; he decided not to decide which.
Exhaustion was a pleasant sensation; talking drowsily afterwards until sleep finally claimed them both. Now, with the fresh light of morning drifting through the dusty windows, Ed didn't want to budge.
Not until Winry's hand ran lightly up his chest without warning, sending a shiver running down his body from spine to legs! He couldn't help the small gasp that came from his lips.
Winry chuckled softly, blue eyes opening as her finger ran back down the center of his chest. "Good morning."
"Very good," Ed leaned in and kissed her again, like he had countless times last night. He pulled his right hand out from the small of her back, running it around the smooth curve of her side and hip, then up towards her breasts.
"Again?" Winry looked at him, unsurprised, but not displeased either. She looked amused. Apparently his amorousness was exactly what she had expected.
"If you're up for it," Ed chuckled.
"The question is," Winry teased, "Are you?"
"Always." Ed went to kiss her again-
Knock knock knock.
"Who's that?" Winry asked at the sounds coming from the door.
Ed groaned. Not now! "I don't know, but they're going to be sorry they're interrupting my day off. Stay right here," he grinned as he scrambled out from under the covers.
"Ed, wait!" Winry called after him. "Put on some clothes."
"What for?" Ed smirked as he reached for the doorknob. Let them know what they interrupted!
On the other side of the door were two soldiers – privates by their rank – who went from nervous to stunned as Ed opened the door and stood there, for just a moment, letting it sink in. One of the guys tilted his head slightly, saw past Ed, and then blushed, standing up straight sharply and saluting. The other matched him. "Fullmetal Alchemist, Sir!"
"Right room," Ed replied. "Care to tell me what you're doing here? I'm on leave."
"Yes, Sir," the first private nodded. "But General Breda is requesting your presence."
"How kind of him to make it a request," Ed replied, enjoying watching the two kids squirm. What, you didn't think men over thirty slept with their wives? "Is there a timeline with this summons?"
"At your earliest convenience," the second private replied. His voice squeaked slightly.
"Then tell General Breda I will be there at my earliest convenience," Ed nodded. "So why don't you stop ogling my wife and go take that message back to him?"
"I wasn't….I…" the first private stammered, then seemed to give up and, red-faced, nodded. "Yes, Fullmetal Alchemist, Sir."
Ed closed the door then and turned around. Winry, still covered by the sheets, was shaking her head. "That was cruel, Edward." She looked like she wanted to laugh though.
"They deserved it," Ed grinned as he crossed the room – chilly despite the season – and crawled back under the covers. "Maybe next time Breda will think before sending unseasoned kids like those to bug me when I have other priorities."
"It sounded important," Winry pointed out as he kissed her. "You should go find out what he wants."
"I will," Ed promised. "Just as soon as I make good on another appointment."
"Well you took your sweet time," Breda grumbled when Edward finally walked into his temporary office forty minutes after the privates had returned, nearly stammering their reply. When Breda had asked what the problem was, they had declined to answer. "What did you do to my men?"
Ed shrugged casually. "They interrupted."
He didn't have to say what. Breda just shook his head. He should have known. "That explains the look of terror on their faces. Anyway, I'm sorry to interrupt your leave like this, but I need your input and wanted to bring you up to date on a couple of things."
"What's up?" Ed's expression grew more serious as they got down to business.
"First, I heard last night from Rehnquist," Breda sighed. "The Drachmans refuse to negotiate excepting a willingness on our part to discuss our surrender."
"Figures," Ed grumbled, crossing his arms. "Bastards are as hard to budge as an ice flow. What's the other news?"
"Newest intelligence reports from Drachma and Briggs report more officers missing or confirmed dead," Breda continued. There really wasn't much else to say on the subject, though he detailed who they had or had not located. "There's almost certainly still a lot of people hiding out in the lower levels, and they didn't kill everyone, so that's something."
Ed's expression grew grimmer. "We've got to get to Briggs and do something about that."
"If we can, we will," Breda replied. There were plans under consideration, but right now they didn't have the manpower to spare.
Ed nodded. "All right, anything else?"
That was what Breda dreaded telling him most. "The fighting started this morning about an hour ago." In the distance, it could barely be heard, given the lines kept moving farther and father away. They couldn't shoot inside the walls anymore, fortunately. "And I got a report from Kane almost at once. I've got only his description, but he's sending film to be developed and footage back as we speak… They've pulled out Chimeras."
Ed's face went momentarily pale. "Damn it! Those bastards! What kind are we talking about, Breda?"
"Kane says they look like a combination of northern wolves and polar bears," Breda informed him. They sounded hideous to him; being half canine didn't help. "There's others, but those are real killers so far."
Ed nodded. "Sounds like it. I should take a look." His expression grew darker. "Damn them, they're going to pay for interrupting my leave!"
Breda looked at him with a momentary feeling of disbelief, then chuckled. "I almost feel sorry for them… almost."
Ed glared at him, then the expression broke and he chuckled. "Yeah. Me too."