Summary: The New Governments of Amestris and Xing are taking their deserved places. In the West they are preparing to restore Ishval and democracy, establish peace with their neighbours, and, hopefully, not bankrupt themselves in the process. Meanwhile in Xing they now have the awkward combination of a Reigning Emperor and a Retired Emperor - surely nothing bad can come of this. (This story occurs concurrently with Facts of Love, which is about the events in Resembool with focus, but not exclusively, on Edward and Winry.)
Notes: As promised, Azrael's Stories return with a double upload. 'The Facts of Love' went up a minute after this one. I will not update both stories at once, rather I will go back and forth between them. We should finish at some point in early January. This one will deal with the political rebirth of Amestris and the beginning of Ling's reign as Emperor of Xing, which will be made really difficult by his father remaining around as the 'Retired Emperor' - those familiar with Asian history know how some of those reign went.
The judges had retired to their personal quarters after another tiring day of conducting the Court Martial of Klemin and Edison. "Can I," Finch began asking, but both of his colleagues quickly shot him up. "No, you cannot have a shot of your brandy," Badeaux told him with an exasperated tone. "We can get through those documents without having to drink ourselves under the bed," Roberts agreed. "Was the hangover you had today not enough for you? I saw the constant flinching at every loud noise."
Finch did not answer and instead loudly groaned. He got up, poured himself a full glass of water and downed it in one go. "How can I possibly get through this shit without something to dull it? I thought the North would make me resistant to reading through documents on war crimes, but this is just... I don't even think there is a word worthy of describing just how disgusting this has been." Badeaux and Roberts sadly nodded. "Nonetheless, it is our job to get through this," the formed pointed out.
Somebody knocked on the door and Finch once more, ever so slightly flinched at the noise. "Who is it," Roberts called out. "Riza Hawkeye," the Minister of Justice answered. "Come in, Miss Minister, we were planning on taking a break shortly regardless," Badeaux invited her in. She came in with a folder under her armpit, which was narrower than the previous ones. "His Excellency has given me the job of formerly presenting you with the invitation to join our Constitutional Consultation," she explained.
"Once this process is over, of course," Riza quickly amended and pulled a chair closer to the table, so she could sit down and open her file. The papers had originally been a verbatim copy of the current text of the Amestrian Constitution, but had since been covered by an equally dense cover of notes, written with both pencils and pens, about how the new version should differ. "I would gladly accept," Badeaux offered, "but I do not know about the others."
Robert gave a little head wiggle with a pout and an unfocused upward look. "I would be interested, but we shall see if still have the desire after this is all over." "Same here," Finch agreed as he gulped down another glass of water as if it would somehow have the same effect as alcohol, because he was still reading a file about, where the High Command happily recorded their preparations to commit war crimes in Ishval.
"Very well, I will inform His Excellency as soon as possible," Hawkeye told them as she still refused to refer to their new head of state as 'her grandfather' out of a sense of impropriety. "I have talked with Mrs. Howard, and she believes we should finish presenting all evidence within three days. How long do you believe you will take to deliberate the sentence," she asked, and Badeaux gave her the most unimpressed look he could summon. "Seconds," Roberts told her, and she gave a nod. "Sounds about right."
"I have been arguing that we should just sentence them to death on the basis of the evidence you already gave us," Finch revealed with a tone bordering on despair. "Like, really, what can the rest change at this point? Those two can be sentenced to being shot for at least fifteen separate articles." The Minister of Justice gave a sigh and a nod. "I understand, Mr. Finch, but we want to be thorough about this. We don't care about finding a legal excuse to kill Klemin and Edison, but to insure nobody will try this again."
"And what about the precise manner of alchemical ritual that was involved in this," Badeaux asked. "That has been made the highest secret that the state recognizes and all the physical information about it is planned to be destroyed, so that in due time people will take it with them to the grave," she explained. "At the same time, we will start working on destroying the large alchemical circle itself by conducting large-scale public works that will cause changes rendering it inert.
I cannot tell you which works this will be a part of, but this is planned to take place within this decade." The main judge gave an approving nod. "The Prime Minister has also passed his own question along to all of you," Riza suddenly remembered, and the three men looked at her. "Eventually, we are planning to fully restore democratic governance and this will require abandoning this dual ministry. Would either of you be interested in taking over the Justice portfolio from me?"
There was brief silence as the men looked at her, among themselves, and then again at her. "That is a rather unexpected suggestion," Finch noted. "I agree. The current plans predict the government will only properly come to be either in late Spring or early Summer of next year. Until then Executive Order 3944 will probably remain in place and so will I as a joint minister. Mustang is however concerned about the lack of legal professionals within our circle. Indeed, I have been given the portfolios, because I am considered the best choice among the many bad ones."
"Well," began Roberts, "I am going to pre-emptively refuse. I am too used to being a judge according to the law and not at all suited to deciding what the law should be instead." "Very well, Mr. Roberts," she said. "I am uncertain if it is a good idea at my age," Badeaux argued. "Soon I will be turning sixty-three, and judges my age are expected to already be planning their retirement." "Our current head of state is seventy-eight," Finch pointed out with an unimpressed look.
And acts accordingly, Hawkeye thought. Her grandfather had spent his first weeks in office constantly going from 'dignified statesman' to a senior that has stopped caring and back like a pendulum. Whether, this was the man intentionally putting on an act or not, people were not sure. Armstrong swore it was the former, because his 'dignified statesman' act was too authentic to be the result of an old man faking it.
After Yunus Miles was done attending the court meeting the next day, instead of returning to the reborn Ishval as he had originally planned, he went to meet Peter Kenyon at the National Museum of Amestris. The professor had arranged a quick meeting with the director of that institution, a fellow archaeologist and close friend of the former Head of Anthropology. Both men had reportedly been enthusiastic about offering their services to the Governor General of Ishval and the nation in general.
Professor Kenyon had dressed in a suit and clearly tried to straighten out his messy blond hair as if this was supposed to be some sort of celebration. "Mr. Governor General, I would like you to meet my friend Dr. Arlen Glostner, the current direction of the National Museum of Amestris and my former aid during the series of expeditions we conducted into Ishval back in the 1890s." The man had a striking brown moustache that continued into his sideburns, but also a large forehead on account of balding and the hair near his ears was mostly gray.
"A pleasure to meet you," Miles said as he shook the hand of the old man. His brown eyes reminded Yunus of looks he saw from some older soldiers at Briggs, and he wondered if the man was also a former member of the armed forces, as he had now become. "We welcome you to our institute," he responded, and Kenyon nodded. "We met at the anthropology department as post-docs," Kenyon explained as he straightened out his glasses. "In a sense, we were perfect matches for field work. I am interested in societies as they are in the present and he as they were in days gone by."
Glostner smiled. "However, today it is a delight to see a living culture in you and your people. Come on in, we have wanted to show an Ishvalan all the stuff we have been hiding for years." The two men quickly lead him up a large stairwell of marble stairs and then deeper into the building. Instead of continuing towards the exhibition halls in the back, they however stepped in front of a door designated as being for employees only and entered.
There they came to an elevator. "The internal structure of this building leaves something to be desired," Glostner explained, "The original architect wanted to create vast open halls and so the backrooms are forced into the leftover space at weird places and angles." "What exactly do you have here," Miles asked. "The tapestries and large pieces of ornamentation taken from the Temple of Ishvalah are by far the largest pieces overall," Kenyon started listing as the elevator doors closed, and they started to descend into the basement.
"There are also those frankincense lanterns, that nobody wanted to buy," Glostner reminded him. "Frankincense lanterns," Yunus asked with a confused look. "Your High Priest and his attendances would use it to, in their own words, cleanse the air in their temple of impurity before and during important ceremonies," Kenyon explained as the elevator stopped, dinged and the doors opened. "At least that is all we saw them used for. Sometimes they took them inside some sort of holy room we were not allowed in, but we think it was just another air cleansing thing."
"In here," Glostner pointed towards a door marker with signs declaring it to be 'Long-term storage' and demanding that people 'Maintain low humidity!' The direction of the museum got out a large ring of keys and started opening the double lock. When he pulled the handle, the metal door opened with a loud groan. Inside, Miles saw a pyramid of what appeared to be rolled up carpets. Kenyon pressed a switch on the side of the door and slowly the room lights illuminated. "Thanks," his friend muttered, and the trio entered.
"These are the tapestries we mentioned," Glostner said and pointed to the eight rolls, which with direct light were now clearly covered with a layer of paint on the inside. "Those are those frankincense lanterns," he added and pointed to what looked like ordinary old lanterns, but on closer inspections they were made by some very good artisans from oryx horns and were attached to a small metal chain. "I never saw those during my visits," Miles admitted. "Then again, I remember little of my visit to our old capital."
Kenyon meanwhile walked to the other side of the room and picked up and stood a sandstone statue, which was stored lying down, into an upward position. The other men looked around and briefly inspected the work. It showed an Ishvalan priest holding an open book and writing in it with a quill made from a stripy feather of a harlequin quail. "I am surprised the colours are still somewhat intact," Glostner admitted, while the Governor General walked around the rolled up tapestries for a closer look.
He noticed that the quill was on the bottom left of the double page, and what would be the paper actually had writing on it. Partly it was created by carving into the sandstone and the rest was done by painting the insets a dark colour and the rest a light yellowish tone. The quill placement was correct for Ishvalan writing, which was done from right to left. Indeed, the text itself was fully readable. "The light of Ishvalah shall cover the world. The veil shall be torn into ribbons that shall be tied around his throne. Justice and mercy will swallow up corruption and decay," Yunus translated aloud.
"Well, we will gladly be a part of this process," Kenyon said with a smile, and Glostner nodded with his own. After a moment of thinking about this, Miles asked, "Would you mind if I used your phone and called some people that have a better idea about everything you have here?" "Of course, we do not mind," the director promptly stated and started leading him to his office. "Come with me and call as many individuals as you want. And note that our employees will gladly be of service."
Olivier Armstrong and Lawrence Henschel were spending the next day away from Central. They had instead gone to visit the Fotcett district near the border triple point between Amestris, Aurego and Creta. "Welcome, sirs," greeted General Dempsey with a salute as they stepped out of their car. "Folcett Command welcomes you," he added and gestured for them to enter the main building before him, which they did. "Have there been any changes to the current state of the front line with our neighbours," Armstrong asked as he caught up to them.
"None to report, so far. Both Creta and Aurego have clearly decided to try and build as many defensive structures as they can before things change. They appear to be maintaining caution and neither risking a resumption of hostilities nor being caught off guard if we change our mind." "Excellent," Henschel commented, "if this continues we could really disengage from all fighting before the end of April." "It would certainly be agreeable to all the soldiers under our command," Dempsey agreed.
"General," Armstrong turned to him, "can you show us detailed maps of the border regions?" "Of course, Mrs. Minister, give us a few minutes, and we will have them at your disposal," he answered and left to get it done. Olivier did not bother correcting him that she had never married, as such she was 'Miss Minister.' Several minutes later they were indeed sitting at a group of tables with all the maps folded out. The tables were in an L shape as she wanted to be able to see them all at once.
"That front line is absolutely atrocious," Henschel observed, and the General nodded with a click of a tongue. "My predecessors did not do a very good job in ensuring we had anything even remotely approaching an optimal front, I'm afraid." "Mr. Dempsey, their job was to cause as much causality as possible; the deaths were part of their insane alchemical ritual. You can count yourself lucky you were the last commander before they tried it," Armstrong told him, and he started to stare at her.
"That is very true. Mrs. Hawkeye has since found that people, who were deemed too capable or refused to act in accordance to the orders from the corrupt members of High Command, were either culled alongside their subordinates or removed into another part of the military structure." "We are still trying to restore the surviving victims of that treatment to the places they deserve," Armstrong informed him without looking up from the maps. "Is this still completely accurate?"
"Yes, ever since we have stopped all offensive actions, the front has not moved by more than a few metres as is natural in the course of redeployments." "And I presume the red line is our old border." "You are correct in that presumption, sir." Olivier gestured for Henschel to come and take a look alongside her. "Look at this," she said as she put her right hand's index finger on a river and the middle finger on the border. She traced them and the gap between the two kept going back and forth.
"That is completely insane. Compared to Briggs, this border looks designed to be easily penetrable," Henschel said, and she gave a firm nod. "It doesn't follow any part of the natural landscape. If you made it randomly by connecting points with straightedge, you would probably create a better one." She looked up at Dempsey. "Are there any relevant resources west of this river," she asked and pointed to it. "None, which I am aware of."
"Do you think Creta would accept, if we offered to give them that territory back," she asked Henschel as she turned to him. Dempsey almost had to pick up his jaw off the floor. "It would certainly be a possible way to sweeten up the deal for them. What point is there in keeping a piece of territory that has no practical use and is all but indefensible," he rhetorically answered, and they walked over to look at the border with Aurego.
"This border is even worse," she exclaimed. "It crosses this river, what," she quickly counted, "nine different times. Those bastards clearly designed our peace treaties with Aurego and Creta with the full intention of preparing a place to slay more of our people. Makes me want to vomit!" "Excuse me, sirs," Dempsey asked, and they looked up at him with blank looks. "You are intending to surrender some of our territory in a peace treaty?"
"We are," Henschel confirmed. "Based on these maps, it is beyond clear that this and the previous conflicts were done for the sake of insane war profiteering and not to ensure safety and prosperity of our country. In fact," he added and raised his head more properly, "we would want your help in creating a list of positions that are of no value to our country besides demanding that we spend much manpower and cash to defend it."
Dempsey appeared to be unable to form words for a few seconds, before saluting. "As you wish, sirs." "Very good," Armstrong said without commenting on his bewildered stare, and went back to consulting the maps. "When we are done, our border will be as defensible as we can make it without spending more manpower. In fact, are there any salients we can safely retreat from at the moment?" "Several," Dempsey answered. "Good, make preparation for that withdrawal, so we can actually conduct them as a show of good will," Lawrence explained.
"Of... Of course," stuttered Dempsey. "Is there anything else you want to ask of me?" "We may wish to inspect the line of contact directly," Henschel suggested, and looked to Armstrong. "I would like that." "You heard her." "I will have that arranged at once," Dempsey said and left the room. "He really is looking at us, like we have lost our minds, isn't he," the Minister of Diplomacy said with a smile as the doors closed behind the man.
"The High Command have been drilling the importance of offensives into the cadets for years, Briggs is the only place that people really learn that the phrase 'a good defence is a good offence' exists for a fucking reason. I've seen maps of fault orogeny that looked better than this trench map. Given the amount of progress some of these markings indicate, I can safely say that a snail could crawl faster than this excuse of an offensive." She slammed her fist on the table.
On Monday, the prosecution finally finished presenting all of their evidence against Klemin and Edison. The judge returned the next morning to deliver their verdict. All of them already had black caps in their pockets in preparation. "The Grand Court Martial is back in session," Badeaux declared and gavelled them back in. Finch rose and looked at Eliza Howard. "Prosecution, do you have anything more you wish to say." She rose and bowed. "We do not, the prosecution rests."
Roberts rose and looked at Michael Sharp. "Defence, do you have anything more you wish to say." The man looked at Klemin and Edison. The former gave him an annoyed look. "Just get this over with already," he muttered. Sharp turned to Roberts and bowed. "We do not have anything either, the defence also rests." Badeaux nodded and turned to the room in general. "All rise," he loudly declared, and after they had, so did he. "The Court Martial declares its sentence in the name of the People's Republic of Amestris under the auspices of its laws and customs."
"On all point the prosecutions has brought before us," Roberts began. "The court find the accused Paul Klemin and Nicholas Edison guilty and first of all sentences you to immediate degradation to the rank of private and the loss of all your honours," Finch declared. A group of people in civilian clothing, including Alex Louis Armstrong, walked to the sentenced men and tore off all of their medals and decorations. When that was finished, Armstrong tore their uniforms in half to take them off their backs.
When all was done, the trio of judges took the black caps from their pockets and put them on their head. Despite it being clear to many this would be the outcome, there were still some gasps from the audience. "This was always going to end with this, wasn't it," Alphonse whispered, and Edward nodded. "They already tried to carry out their own death sentences," Hawkeye muttered behind them, and the Resembool quartet turned to look at her. She nodded towards the pair. "They have refused to eat or drink for days, because they were trying to die in prison."
Meanwhile, Badeaux continued to recite the sentence. "Second, due to your egregious conduct, not just unbecoming of the officers of our army, but being contrary to many key rules and basic morals and laws, we further declare that we deem you irredeemable in any way whatsoever." "Therefore, this court sees no other option," Robert began again. "But to sentence you both to death by firing squad," Finch concluded. "The Grand Court Martial has spoken," Badeaux declared loudly and slammed the gavel.
The judges took all their documents into their hands and walked out through the doors, while most of the room's occupants either sat down or started to walk out. Klemin and Edison were taken by guards back into their cells. Their look had not changed compared to, when they had arrived, ten minutes earlier. "They didn't even react to being sentenced," Winry pointed out with a nod in their direction. "As far as they were concerned, life probably ended for them the moment the Promised Day failed," Ed guessed.
"That's...," she began and then thought about the proper word, while touching her chin with her hand. "I am not even sure what to call it. Sad? Detestable?" "Why should we bother thinking about them," Pinako asked. "They had abandoned their humanity for the sake of grovelling at Father's feet to give them immortality," she reminded her granddaughter. "Well said," Riza agreed. "They will certainly not be missed by anyone outside their family, and even then that is debatable."
"So, will we have the execution be public or not," Henschel asked as he and the diplomatic attachés met their group. "I don't see a reason to bother with a public one. We are punishing them for their actions rather than trying to make a point by showing people what happens to people like them. There is no need to do that without Father being around to seduce people into thinking like them again," Hawkeye told him, and then looked down at the ground in thought.
"Are they still kept at Central prison," Alphonse suddenly asked. "The one next to the Fifth Laboratory," he pointed out for the sake of others. "Yes, that was not completely intentional," the Minister of Justice informed him. "However, I imagine that they are not exactly happy about that. In fact, we will almost certainly have them executed there as well." "Can we go somewhere else," Winry whispered in her boyfriend's ear with a tired tone. He nodded and they left the room.
"Now we just have to do everything else," Mustang said as he joined them. He removed the glasses, he had on to see the proceedings, and put them in his pocket as Riza gave him an annoyed frown. Fortunately, that look did not work, when it was ever so slightly blurry. "How was the visit to Folcett, Mr. Henschel," he asked. "Mostly enlightening. Mrs. Armstrong and I have certainly made an impression on the local leadership and found that we can indeed offer concessions to Aurego and Creta without risking our own safety."
"Perfect, that should definitely make them more accepting of what we are trying to accomplish here. Do you have any idea how Armstrong's defensive study is coming along?" "To an extent," Lawrence admitted, "She is currently creating a unified plan of national defence and alongside General Dempsey and the other regional commanders is trying to straighten out our border to make it as good as possible. She currently estimates a loss of about fifty square kilometres will greatly ease our military expenses.
"That is good to hear," said Riza Hawkeye with a slight smile. "Any reduction in expenditure is appreciated at this point." "Is it really that bad," Mustang asked with a slight head tilt. "Oh, it very much is," the joint Minister of Finance declared with a sure tone. "I am absolutely not letting go of the finance portfolio until I am assured we are not going to drive off a cliff into a death spiral of every increasing debt. If I could, I would love nothing more than to annul all state bonds, because they are the biggest headache."
On the Monday afternoon after the sentence of Klemin and Edison was handed down by the Grand Court Martial, the Armstrong finally gathered at their home to celebrate Olivier's thirty-eight birthday. And because it was them, the whole thing became a mix between a high class party and a fighting match. Admittedly, it was not anywhere as bad as the giant fight that Alex Louis and Olivier had over succession to the family several months back.
"Excellent show," Lord Philip Gargantos exclaimed and clapped as his youngest daughter Catherine Elle managed to endure a sword fight with her eldest sister for almost ten minutes straight. "You are certainly getting better," Olivier agreed as she put the sword away from Catherine's neck and sheathed it again. The younger sister's sword was lying behind her after the Northern Wall of Briggs managed to tear it away by impaling the handle.
She offered a hand to her sister. "Thank you," the youngest Armstrong sibling said, and she pulled herself up. "But I still have some catching up to do." "She is fifteen years your senior, Katie. Stop worrying about not being up to par with a more experienced fighter," the second younger sister, Strongine, told her to give her some solace in her defeat. "But that won't help me if I am challenged in a fight that is not friendly."
"Fortunately there is no concern for that just yet," pointed out, Lady Mary Victoria and her daughters returned to their seats and the dinner continued. "Now that we are assured some sort of peace, we can also start focusing on projects outside martial prowess," Lord Armstrong agreed and gave a nod towards Olivier. "Do you have something in mind, Father?" "Not only I, but also Alex and Amue," he explained and gestured to the other two children before taking a bite of his roast chicken.
"I have asked Amue to get me into contact with her friend Mr. Harting, the Rector of Central's University. We have discussed the possibility of transferring the disorganised and decentralised process of alchemical study and teaching under the auspices of the academic realm," the only son of the family explained. "And Charles Harting has expressed interest in the idea and offered to bring up the suggestion at the next meeting with the Deans of the Natural Science branch," Amue added.
"An interesting idea, certainly," agreed the Minister of Defence. "However, as far as I am aware, secrecy and reluctance has always been associated with alchemy. Would we actually be able to convince the collective to join the strict realm of academia?" "The way civilian alchemists undertake study is not that distinct from how some branches of academia already operate," Amue noted, as she had been one of the first female recipients of a Doctorate in Physics.
Some may have argued that she was being given preferential treatment on account of her family's continue donations to the institution, but the University had declared that she had proven herself to their satisfaction. "I would certainly like to hear more of this," their Father said, "However, there are yet other avenues I consider worthy of exploration." "Is this about us potentially getting into the building industry," Catherine recalled from their holiday before taking a bite of her food.
"Indeed," Lord Armstrong continued with a nod. "As we were preparing to return from Xing, we passed through their western provinces and found that the area was rich in resources that would be useful for the building trade. You have said that Mustang and Grumman seek to ally themselves with Emperor Ling, who just got crowned, did you not," he explained and Olivier nodded to him. "You wish to get involved in international trade once we begin opening up?"
"Yes, I do, Olivier. Xingese marble, for example, is of excellent quality, and they have many lime quarries, which produce material that is sorely needed here in Amestris. Liore is hungry for new materials to rebuild, and now Ishval itself will also start consuming building material as part of its own reconstruction efforts. They may have plenty of sandstone, but there is only so much you can make from that. Besides, we can export some of theirs to Xing for mutual benefit, since I heard theirs has different properties to the one that the Empire of Xing extracts within their territory."
"It is an interesting idea, but it will take some time for the channels of commerce to open with Xing, Father," Alex pointed out after swallowing. "Lawrence Henschel has a lot on his proverbial plate at the moment, and insuring ceasefire and later peace with Aurego and Creta is currently his main interest, is it not?" "It is, Alex, but he has already asked Hawkeye to grant him finances that will allow for the diplomatic corps to be restored. It should not take too long for us to re-establish proper international relations."
"There is no need to hurry just yet, is there," pointed out Lady Armstrong. "Olivier, since Alex and Amue are asking about an issue of education, do you happen to know who the new Minister of Education will be," Strongine asked. "That is still being discussed at this point," the Minister of Interior recalled. "However, the name of Stephen Cartwright has been floated around." Amue's eyes widened slightly, and she started biting quicker to swallow and respond. "I am acquainted with Mr. Cartwright," she explained.
"You know everyone, Amue," Strongine snickered and received a smug grin as a reply. "We, Armstrongs, must always remain informed and connected," she proclaimed and looked at her Father, who nodded approvingly. "Our family has achieved its greatness by being always ready to take opportunities as they came over the last century and a half. That is why we have never had need of underhanded tactics to get our way," he agreed. "Do you think Mr. Cartwright is a good choice for a new Minister?"
"It is certainly not a bad choice," Amue replied. "He would not be first on my list, but he would be very high on it. Cartwright has been an established authority within the realm of pedagogy for several years and has been seen as a wise and insightful man with a kind heart. If your Government asks, he will be all too delighted to join, since he has been a prolific student of pedagogical issues and has been actively supporting reformist groups that support causes, which he believes would improve education."
"Maybe we should invite him to a meeting with the family," Strongine suggested. "Would it not seem a bit greedy if we start to attach ourselves to another Government Minister," Lady Armstrong pointed out. "Nonsense, Mother," Alex immediately exclaimed. "We are known supporters of educational causes. It would seem only natural that the Minister of Education and our family would seek to foster good relations." "Besides, it would also be collegial on my end," Olivier pointed out. "I'll send him a telegram," the head of the family promised.