Disclaimer - there's not much food here, but I've managed to scavenge enough to live. I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist.

- A few days have passed, and no one here. Am I now safe? I can't believe that. I have to keep moving. I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist.

- Snow arrived. Winter will be in full force soon. I have to find shelter. I just fish the words would stop. I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist.

'So sir, I was hoping I could ask you a question?' Blackhammer said, walking over to me at a transmutation circle.

'Dammit, Private! Can't you see I'm in the busy?'

'Er, no actually, sir. That pipe hasn't moved in an hour sir.' He pointed to the metal pipe in the middle of the circle.

'That's just it, Blackhammer! Delayed time alchemy! It's a whole new field! You activate a transmutation circle, but the transmutation does not occur until later! Look at this pipe!' I pointed. 'With a normal circle, that pipe would have changed into a series of needles within moments, but it has not changed at all! This is a breakthrough in alchemical science!' I cried. 'Or it's just not working.' I mused.

'Does this mean that we have nothing to do today?' Blackhammer said.

'Pretty much, yes.' I admitted. 'So, Blackhammer, what did you want to speak to me about?'

'Well, I was looking at these letters, and we keep getting letters from a Welmark and Sons, Bakers?' Blackhammer said. 'Should we be getting those?'

'Ah, yes. By which I mean no.' I replied. 'I have been investigating these. At first, I thought that they might in code, each of the first letters in a line spelling out the true message. Then I thought the numbers mentioned might represent map coordinates. Then I hypothesised that certain marked letters spelled out a message in a cipher. Now I think they have the wrong address.'

'Sir, how come you didn't think that first? I mean, who would send such an elaborate message?'

'My mother sent the location of my 21st birthday present in the 12th word of a hundred letters from a fictional tailor.' I replied.

'Oh. Never mind then, I guess that's pretty reasonable then.' Blackhammer replied.

'In any case, I now realise that they are actually sending these letters to another E Longwood.' I pointed to the letters. 'Which means you have done well, Blackhammer! We have a new task ahead of us! We must track down both E Longwood, and discover how we these butchers got my address!' And we must – for there was a matter of national security at stake, for someone was sending me junk mail!

Our first plan was to head to the official records office, where with a show of my watch I was able to get in and begin looking for the records of companies. We then realised we got lost in the shelves, and let the record keepers get the information. Disgruntled, he eventually arrived back, holding the paper. 'Here you are.' He said, brandishing it at us. 'Welmark and Sons, 24 Dog-Hang Road, Irusk, North Area.'

'Excellent!' I cried. 'Then it did the fit the one on the letter!'

'Wait, why did you come here?' the record keeper shouted. 'I had to go over to the out Centre record buildings! It's on the other side of town! Why do you think it took an hour?'

'Don't be an idiot? What if they'd moved? Or made an error? Or lie, to confound us? Our very lives could have been at risk if we wandered into that location without checking first!'

'I guess...' The record keeper said, for some unknown reason still annoyed. Probably Blackhammer's odd socks. They annoyed me too.

The city of Irusk was on the border of the North and Central areas. Therefore, it would take a five hour train ride to reach the city. Now, some might say we should therefore get enough supplies since we may have to spend the night there. But that's just what they would expect us to do! Therefore we ran onto the first train heading north. And by ran I mean I threw Blackhammer on, him being slow and not professionally sprinting to get the train, and I whipped onto the back carriage, and crawled in through a window Blackhammer opened for me.

The two of us sat down on at a table, we said nothing for a moment. Then Blackhammer said 'So, sir, I just need to check – what exactly is our plan for when we get to Irusk?'

'Plan? Blackhammer, if I had planned this, I would have had to stop and think! And then I would have lost the initiative? Could anything else possibly be worse in battle?'

'Right.' Blackhammer said, sighing. 'Well, at least I can finish my book.' He pulled out paperback from his coat. It had the title Songs of Shadow.

'Have you been carrying this around all the time?' I asked.

'Sure, sir. I want to finish it soon, so I've been reading it on the toilet?'

What great work of philosophy and truth could have enraptured the young Private so greatly? 'What's it about?' I asked.

'It's about sixteen year old girl who falls in love with this man who can only be seen midnight, and has to choose if she wants to live a normal life, or follow midnight around the world like him. Oh, and she's also in love with the mayors son and she can summon dragons to do her bidding.'

It was a long night, especially after Blackhammer kept getting emotional reading the book, but eventually we arrived in the city of Irusk. Train was now on the edge of the great Northern Plateau, pushing it above the surrounding landscape and dusting the hill tops with snow even in early autumn. The city itself was a curious mix of styles, with Northern style houses in the centre next to the Central style railway. 'This is it, Blackhammer! Now let's find these bakers!'

'But sir, how? We'd need some kind of piece of paper with the streets on it!'

I sighed. 'Private, sarcasm doesn't work if you're being sarcastic about yourself.'

'Sorry sir, I'm very tired.'

A map was located next to the station, showing the city's centre. 'Dog-Hang road is three turns down this one.' I turned to him. 'Now, I want you to scout out the location. Check if it even is a bakers! I paused. 'What's your cover story?'

Blackhammer looked at me confused for a second. 'I'm tired and I want to go to bed?'

'Genius, Blackhammer! Now go scout!' I sent him away. A few minutes later, he returned. 'Yep, it's a bakery. No guards outside or anything!'

'Excellent! No you stay here – you're a liability in this state.'

I arrived at the location shortly, and I prepared to strike. The door had but a single weak lock. The door was a thin one of plywood. I prepared to break it down with a single smash of my boot –

And then I realised I might get in trouble. It was technically breaking and entering, even for a good cause. I wandered back to Blackhammer. 'Come on, let's go get a room somewhere.'

We stayed a night in the Burning Log Inn, with the two of use sharing a bed. I was able to get some rest, and Blackhammer discovered I snored. We all gained from the experience.

'I'm just saying sir, you didn't need to wear pyjamas. You didn't even think we were going to be staying over!'

'But that is the beauty of stripped clothes, Blackhammer! A single transmutation, and they can be any clothes you need, bar uniform! Besides, I would hardly want to be underdressed!' I paused. ' What do you wear to sleep in the field?'

'I've never slept in the field, but I normally sleep in my underpants? Then I have fewer clothes to buy.'

I sighed. He was a lost cause. 'Never mind – look. Our target!' And so it was – we stood outside the bakers, the glowing light of the ovens spilling out. 'Do you have the letters?' I asked.

'Yes sir!' Blackhammer saluted, bringing them out.

'Excellent! Now, let us move!' I stepped forward into the shop. As a little bell rang, I shouted out 'Nobody move! It is I, Egbert Longwood, the Cloth Alchemist!'

Inside were two bakers, one in the process f handing a loaf of bread to a customer. 'Put down the bread!' I shouted. I once saw a man use a loaf take off a man's arm. Training academy with alchemists can be intense, especially when you're with Exploding Bread Dave.

'What is this?' the baker said.

'Are you Welmark or Son?'

'Welmark! What are you here for?'

'Read him the charges, Blackhammer!' I told him. The private came in, holding a piece if paper.

'Right! You are charged with the following: sending junk mail-' he put the paper away.

'You heard the Private! So, confess!' I said.

'What is going on?' asked Son.

'Did you send these?' I held out one the letters. Welmark took it, and read it. 'Yes?'

'Who is E Longwood?' I asked.

'Edward Longwood.' He said. 'Why?'

'But I have received it instead! I, Major Egbert Longwood, the Cloth Alchemist!' I cried.'How did you get my address?'

'I don't know? It was probably just a mistake! I just looked through the phone book for addresses.'

'Well, stop sending me letters!'

'Ok! I will!'

'Good.'

'The pipe has not changed, sir.' Blackhammer said.

'That's a shame. The future of cleaning before dirtying will have to wait, I fear.'

Blackhammer sat down by the pile if laundry. 'Well, I guess maybe you should find a new research project. You could start working on the knittable gun again?'

'Unfortunately, there are new orders about keeping explosives on sight.' I sighed. 'Maybe I should develop a way to make socks that work with sandals!'

'Er, why?'

'To test the limits of fashion, to show that any combination may be plausible in the end! Is that not the tailors dream?'

And so another victory has been won! No longer will we plagued with details of cakes and pastries! But we must always be vigilant! So soon will it will necessary for me, Egbert Longwood, the Cloth Alchemist, to do his duty again!

Ah, junk mail. That curse on modern life. I'm glad that someone's fighting against it.

Also - shameless plug! Do you like Hellsing? Would you like to see Alucard fight the homunculi? No to both? Then don't check out Annihilation of Souls, by me, Snaketooth!