AN: Thank you to the three reviewers!
Chapter 21 - Drachmen Spies
Miles stared down at the paperwork sent to him, trying to make sense of it. He had sent in for information on their new officer coming, and the file was thick.
Very thick.
And impressive in its mundaneness.
A State Alchemist.
A State Alchemist who was the youngest in their history to pass the state exam and had tested higher than almost any other. He had been challenged to a combat evaluation against a seasoned State Alchemist who had served in Ishval, Brigadier General.
Iron Blood.
The Fullmetal Alchemist had beaten him easily.
But his prowess in battle aside, the majority of Fullmetal's background was… infrastructure.
Something that had given him the second moniker, Alchemist of the People.
The boy was essentially rebuilding the reputation of State Alchemists all on his own, and yet…
And yet, he was being sent to Briggs.
Briggs was so far away from the majority of the Amestris civilians as to be forgotten.
It was a punishment.
It was an exile.
And for the life of him, Miles couldn't see what Fullmetal had done to earn it.
Sighing, he gathered the documents and stood.
The General might know how to decipher this information.
Sure enough, no sooner had General Armstrong read the transfer paper after Miles handed her the main file than did she scoff, "This isn't Fullmetal's punishment; it is Mustang's. Alchemist of the People he may be, but he was acting on the Flame Alchemist's orders and everyone is aware of that."
"You don't sound impressed," Miles noticed.
"Mustang isn't that intelligent," she said resting her hand over her fist in thought. "You missed something."
Miles raised a brow.
Her smile was minute as she asked, "Don't you find it odd that Elric-Hughes wasn't promoted?"
"Mustang took his credit," Miles said, unsurprised by the man's ambition.
"Yes, but that was a deliberate act and Fullmetal is still a child. Mustang was not alone in his advancement, Maes Hughes was promoted to Colonel and Mustang's second, Captain Riza Hawkeye."
"I saw that Fullmetal was a legacy, but I hadn't made the connection to Colonel Hughes."
She nodded, "Hughes and Mustang have been friends since the academy. Fullmetal is adopted, a genius, and apparently determined to see Mustang rise through the ranks. Bradley must have reached his limit with it."
"Why wasn't that in the main file? And wouldn't Bradley want an alchemist that young on his side?" Miles asked. "I mean, they could get more alchemists to apply if the press remained that good."
The General shifted back in her seat and tapped on her desk. "I'm not sure but we will put him to work when he gets here. Though I believe his heritage was left out because they don't know. At least, not officially." She glared down at the documents. "But overall, this transfer doesn't make sense. Even if this is a punishment, he's too useful a pawn to send this far North."
Miles felt a headache coming but reasoned, "If infrastructure is his strong suit, there are a number of repairs we can do in the bottom—"
"Don't get too excited," she said, holding out a separate folder to him.
Miles took it, "What is this?"
"A closed wanted report," she said.
Miles opened the file to find an Ishvalan face staring back at him.
"The Alchemist Killer," he sighed.
"Fullmetal is young," the General said. "We can break him to our ways sure enough. Or the winter will take him."
oOo
"Motherfucker," Ed said earnestly.
He was thankful, at least, that Winry had bought him extra oil and the metal of his arm was already an alloy that could last in the cold.
He was less thankful about it being a full winter.
Hopefully, the Briggs men would find him.
Hopefully, the Briggs men wouldn't kill him on sight.
Ed sighed, as he left the path.
If Teacher could do it, so could he.
oOo
Miles checked his watch, "Where is he?"
"A storm's coming," Buccaneer said, needlessly, the wind had already obscured the path back.
Miles sighed, "I suppose it's time we return. We'll see if he's the genius he's said to be."
oOo
Ed sort of hoped his new friend, Mikhail, wasn't tortured to death.
The man was a mountain climber and had been hired by a Drachman spy to take him round Fort Briggs.
The man himself couldn't be a spy, his Amestrian was terrible. Still, as they sat out the Hundred Year Storm in a cave, teaching each other Xing (because he wasn't going to betray his own country) and Drachman by trading stories about their families certainly weren't that bad.
Even if they had to treat the spy who had broken both legs and suffered through a concussion had to be babied.
The storm lasted for nearly two weeks.
"I'm sorry, friend but I have to bring you in," Ed said in Drachman.
Mikhail laughed, "I will talk, no worries, friend. And you and I will share a drink before I die, no?"
Ed hoped he wouldn't be killed but nodded, "Sure, let's go. I really don't want to wrestle another bear."
It would have been too cumbersome to carry a stretcher through the snow, so Ed slung the spy over his shoulder as Mikhail waded through the snow ahead.
oOo
"So are we declaring him dead?"
"We need to at least try looking for the body," Miles said.
"Sir!" Smith ran in. "We found Fullmetal."
Miles grimaced.
"And he found a Drachman spy!" Smith continued.
"He what?" Miles asked flatly as he began to follow. Hardly believing the boy was alive, much less did something useful.
"Found a spy, Sir. Well two, but the other one is clearly a guide," Smith said.
"Where are we going?" Miles asked.
"Medics, spy had broken legs."
"From Fullmetal?" Miles asked.
"Don't know, the mountain guide seems fine. One of the most amiable arrests I've ever seen to be honest," Smith said.
Miles frowned as they entered the room and an average-height boy with golden hair that contrasted against a red coat, carrying a clearly Drachman man over his shoulder. A man that had to be nearly double the body mass as the young man.
"How do we know you are not also a spy?" General Armstrong was asking as the boy dropped the spy on the bed with little ceremony.
"Do you have someone who can speak Drachman?" he asked.
"Of course we do," Smith said.
Fullmetal looked at them, hands on hips, "Then ask Mikhail. He said he would tell you everything."
"You speak Drachman?" the General asked, tone dark.
"Only what Mikhail taught me," Fullmetal said.
"While you taught him Amestrian?" the General asked.
He waved her comment away, "Relax, General, I heard what a tight ship you run up here. I switched to Xingese once I realised how garbage his Amestrian was."
"And what did you two talk about?" she asked.
The boy smirked, "Our little brothers, the shit we got up to as kids. Or tried to, the language barriers were rather extreme, but still, there wasn't much we could do waiting in a cave."
"And you think he will corporate?" the General asked.
"Well, cooperation works better results than torture, seeing as people tend to try to say what they think you want to hear. Mikhail wants to go home to his family and he's not military, just a climber enthusiast."
"How the hell did you survive nearly two weeks in a storm?" Smith asked.
"Mikhail found the cave, I transmuted some trees into firewood, and I killed the bear in the cave. We lived off that meat, it lasted long enough in the cold."
They all stared at him.
"You make it sound simple," the Doc said, snapping restraints on their unconscious prisoner.
Fullmetal shrugged, "My teacher survived the mountain for a month on her own before she learned alchemy."
Everyone stilled.
"A month?" Smith asked.
"Who is your teacher?" Buccaneer asked.
Fullmetal shrugged, "I doubt you'd know her. She's a housewife."
"A housewife?" Buccaneer repeated. And what went unsaid was that it had been a housewife who had terrorized the Briggs troops for a month.
"A housewife who could probably bowl with a battalion as pins, but yeah," Fullmetal answered.
General Armstrong signalled, Later, before saying aloud to their new alchemist. "You'll be serving under Major Miles. Your own rank is irrelevant here."
"You're the boss," Fullmetal said easily.
Doc handed him a cup of coffee.
"Thanks," he said, before taking a sip, curling around the heat of the mug.
"That will be a hundred zen," Doc said, holding out her hand.
Fullmetal reached into his pocket to flick her the appropriate coin without complaint.
Despite himself, Miles found himself liking the boy.
General Armstrong gave Fullmetal a suspicious look, "Why are you here, Fullmetal?"
Fullmetal sipped his coffee, "I pissed off the wrong people."
"Who are the wrong people?" the General asked, waving for him to follow her as she walked.
Miles remained at her side while Buccaneer loomed behind him.
Unbothered, but holding onto the mug of coffee like a comfort blanket, Fullmetal shrugged and asked in turn, "Who signed my transfer papers?"
"Unwise of you," she said dryly.
He shrugged again, "I was never really looking to sail the ranks."
"Mustang and your father did rather well, in no small part due to your actions," she said.
"They are good people," Fullmetal said, eyes going distant.
"In Fort Briggs, you work to eat," the General said.
"I understand."
The General came to an abrupt stop, and turned on the little alchemist, "Whatever you're hiding, I will unravel your secrets. You and your knowledge belong to me now."
Edward Elric-Hughes looked at her with exhausted gold eyes, "Careful what you ask for Major General Armstrong, nothing is free, and we often don't know the price of truth until it's too late."
"And what does a child of seventeen know about cost?" she asked.
Fullmetal smiled, "I traded away my childhood a long time ago, General."
Liam showed up with his suitcase. "Checks out, more empty notebooks and alchemy books than clothes though."
"Empty notebooks?" the General asked.
Fullmetal accepted the suitcase. "I'm an alchemist."
"A combative, not a research alchemist."
"Have you met research alchemists?" Fullmetal scoffed. "Either bloodthirsty madmen or stiffs with a pole shoved up their collective asses."
"That's how most people would describe combative alchemists," Miles said. "In fact, it's their primary function."
"Yeah, but I don't have to work with other State Alchemists on a daily basis."
"You worked for Mustang."
Ed shrugged, "Yeah, but he's not a self-inflated ass hat and he was in the academy before he became an alchemist."
"You sound like you have your own stick up your ass," Miles noted.
Fullmetal gave him an annoyed look, "Listen, unless you actually know anything about alchemy, this conversation is pointless. I think my record can speak for itself."
"Tests are not proof of concept," the General said.
Fullmetal finally looked irked, his exhaustion loosening his tongue. "If the military reports aren't good enough for you. Then I suggest you contact the district representatives of Central. Can I go to my room now, or did you have any more questions that can't wait until tomorrow?"
oOo
Maes was pissed. Pissed at Ed for not calling. Pissed Ed for requesting a reassignment.
And most of all pissed because maybe his leaving was the safest choice.
Loathe as he was to admit it, Edward had attracted the attention of things that Maes couldn't begin to protect the girls from.
"Doesn't anyone know anyone in Briggs?" He demanded of his office.
His staff stared at him.
He swore internally, rising from his seat to go find a secure line.
He was a Colonel now.
That didn't mean shit to a Major General. Especially not one who also was biding her time to the Fuhrership and sought to decimate any competition.
That included her brother despite his having no desire for a promotion whatsoever.
Maes was no closer to knowing what he could say to persuade Olivier but decided by the time he picked up the phone that he was going to be calling as Ed's father, consequences be damned.
He had money in for an hour though he would be lucky if he got two minutes.
But Ed hadn't called home.
It took another coin drop just for the connection to go through.
—You've reached Briggs, Private Karley speaking.
"Did my son arrive?" he asked.
There was a long pause. —Colonel Hughes?
"Maes or Hughes is fine, did Edward reach the fort safely? Yes or no?"
—Yes.
Maes shut his eyes, bowing his head, "Thank you. May I speak with Major General Armstrong, please."
—I can put you through, I can't guarantee that she will take your call, however.
"That's fine," Maes said.
—Hold, please.
Maes waited, plopping a few more coins in to keep the call from disconnecting.
Olivier's greeting was to the point, —Is there a problem, Colonel Hughes?
"No, Major General," he answered. "I'm calling to enquire about my son."
—He's a big boy. You shouldn't worry.
"That boy is the future of this nation," he snapped.
Olivier laughed, —I wouldn't put that much of a stake in his military career if I were you, Hughes.
"I meant, the future of the civilians, not the military."
—Either way, he got sent here.
"He requested the transfer."
That silenced her, finally, she asked, —Why?
"Because something has been trying to kill him and has no qualms about what it has to go through to get to him."
—Something?
"I can't say."
—What can you say?
"It's in your best interests to keep him alive."
—Something any father would request.
"He's adopted, and most days I'm pretty sure he's the one who saved me, not the other way around. Earn his loyalty and he'll help you achieve whatever it is you are after."
—Bold words and false promises.
Maes took a breath, shutting his eyes as he knew his next words were as close to a betrayal as he would ever reach, "I've heard rumours of Briggs, who knows, Ed might support your bid over Roy's. He has helped Roy as far as he has only because he is my friend."
—You sound desperate.
"Call it intuition. Something bad is coming," Maes said, knowing that the night Ed had been attacked by Scar that his guards being pulled had been no accident.
—You think someone wishes your harm, which begs the question, why would anyone want your son dead?
"Because, Ed's alchemy could too easily revolutionize the country."
—You speak of potential treason boldly.
"It is not treason to say the military should protect her people, as farmer feeds their flock. It is not treason to state that one day the people might expect the military to serve them; it is simply the truth."
—Truth, Olivier said, is dangerous.
"There are many truths, one of them being what advantage my son represents to you."
—I could make his life hell, just to spite you, Colonel. A fit punishment for your presumption to give me orders.
"There is nothing you could possibly be willing to do to him that has been worse than what he's already endured."
—Would you like to bet on that?
"The question you should be asking yourself, Olivier, is what does Ed have to offer you?"
—Nothing.
"Are you so certain? Your men are loyal to you, but what about you're people, do you think they love you? Do you think they even know who you are?"
There was heat to her next words, —You think a teenager could in any way affect me?
"He is the Alchemist of the People."
—Are you so quick to turn on Mustang?
"If Ed ends up liking you, you are someone worth following," Maes said, knowing his words were more than just flattery.
—You have such regard for his judgement?
"He is not a child," Maes stated.
—And yet here you are calling his superior officer like a parent calling the school principal on the second day of Kindergarten.
"Edward has a habit of taking care of everyone around him and neglecting himself. So be careful what you ask of him. If he moves mountains for you, I damn well expect you to make sure he doesn't get frostbite."
—That sounds like a threat.
She sounded amused.
"Again, Olivier, the choice is yours, squander potential allies or make an asset out of opportunity," he said and then hung up.
He didn't know if what he had just done helped or hurt Ed's standing.
oOo
Olivier stared down at the phone.
Something had the Colonel shook.
And she didn't like it one bit.
Who was Edward Elric-Hughes?
Or maybe she should be asking who Edward Elric was.
She made some more calls. Traded in some favours. Prime among those questions was who the hell was the boy's alchemy teacher?
She received few answers, but most of the information seemed to back up Colonel Hughes's assessment.
Olivier walked through the halls hours later with more questions than answers.
She heard Miles's voice before she spotted him walking beside their new Alchemist.
Elric-Hughes looked depressed but not unwilling as he followed Miles.
"Hardship is the way of Briggs."
"Gee, hardship, wonder what that's like," the boy responded apparently reaching his proverbial limit.
"Watch yourself, you don't know everyone's history."
"Yeah, that's kind of typical of strangers. But then most strangers I meet don't persist in nagging about my past."
"If you told us the full truth—"
"And what's your truth, Major?" Fullmetal interrupted. "Why'd you stay up here in the tundra?"
Miles came to a stop and Olivier had a good vantage point to see both of their expressions as Miles took off his glasses.
Edward didn't react the way anyone ever had before.
Some shadow of sorrow left his eyes and he seemed to brighten, like he were happy or excited. His voice was tame in comparison to his facial expression, "You're Ishvalan?"
"My grandfather was, yes," Miles answered warily.
"Do you still have ties to your community?"
"My family was killed in the war."
"The boy visibly deflated, "I'm sorry for your losses
Miles stared down at him. I still have some extended family I'm in contact with."
"Really?" Fullmetal asked, sounding so hopeful.
"Why do you sound so pleased about this?"
"Because you're military," the boy said as if it was obvious.
"Yes, I'm military, and my goal is to change how people see people who look at me. Even if the military never admits its crimes, I would rather give my people a voice than let my grandfather's people be worn down into silence."
Ed's smile was blinding, "That will probably take a while but the first steps are sometimes the hardest."
Miles just stared at him.
Fullmetal seemed to realize he needed to explain his interest, "Oh right, um, so I've been doing research for years. I'm originally from Resembool and my dad served in Ishval."
"You mean he killed in Ishval," Miles corrected.
"We're you serving in that time? I thought there was a purge."
"There was but General Armstrong takes a man at his merit."
"That's awesome. I get that she's crazy dangerous and competent, but so far I've been honestly relieved she's nothing like her brother. He's a good guy and all but he confuses me."
Olivier smiled to herself.
Miles just frowned at him. "What is your concern with Ishval?"
"Reparations."
Miles and Olivier stared.
"What?" Miles asked.
"Reparations," Fullmetal said clearly. "Ishvalans are Amstrians and that war was a farce."
"A farce?" Miles repeated.
"Fehrer Bradley instigated the riots by sending in a black OPS team to attack the main Temple. Then he killed and tortured said black OPS team. His reasons for starting the war are personal and complete bullshit. So I can say without reservation that hope the Ishvalans can return to their homeland and rebuild."
"And what's stopping you?" Miles asked bitterly.
"I'm an alchemist and by their religion, it is an abomination and a sin against their God. It seems wrong to further violate their faith even if it is with good intentions."
"So if not for alchemy then how do you plan to help them?"
"My speciality is infrastructure and I have more than a mild addiction to collecting old books. I have maps and books on Ishvalan architecture, even some of the older stuff that got replaced by the time of the war. I've done most of the calculations on what materials would need to be acquired and from where, that's the reparations part because the government should contribute that much. The hardest piece is locating water. If they let me, I could help with at least that much, but otherwise, I have maps that have markers of the old wells."
Miles stared at him. "How long have you been working on this?"
"Since I was eleven, my dad wouldn't let me take the State exam that early but I stumbled on a few Ishvalan Arctect books and the ideas kind of sparked from there. I've been collecting them ever since."
"Why?" Miles asked.
"To give back. Alchemy doesn't always have to be about destruction and weapons it can be so much more than that. Science, you know, can actually improve people's lives."
"Most people I meet are either guilty or pitying of my heritage."
"I don't feel guilty because the purpose of guilt is to learn that something is wrong. I know what was done to them was wrong and I've made steps to possibly help."
Miles narrowed his eyes, "So you can be our saviour?"
Ed blinked, "Fuck no. I'm from Resembool. Ishvalans fleeing from their homes destroyed our countryside. They slaughtered our animals for food and burned our fields for vengeance. My godparents were doctors in the war and they were killed by an Ishvalan patient they were trying to save. So no, it's not a superiority kink or pity. It's because it is the right thing to do. We are neighbours and countrymen, people suffered. and that is more than enough justification to help."
"I don't understand you. You killed an Ishvalan."
The boy flinched, "I didn't want to kill Scar but I promised my sisters I wouldn't let the serial killer take me away. When I had no other escape, I kept that promise."
Miles tilted his head and said what Olivier was thinking, "You don't like killing."
"No, I don't."
"Yet you joined the military."
Fullmetal shrugged and changed the subject, "Anyway, if you know anyone who would be interested in the architecture or history books, I would be more than happy to hand them over. If they are living in a camp and afraid they will get ruined I can hold onto the originals and pay a friend to get copies made."
Miles stared at him and Olivier was sure he was thinking the same thing she was.
Edward Elric-Hughes wasn't simply a genius; he was someone with the power and cability of changing the world.
Olivier realised suddenly that Maes Hughes had been quite literal in his metaphor.
If she asked the boy to move mountains, he would.
She smiled to herself.
Poor Mustang.
oOo
AN: Thoughts, red wolves, or feedback, pretty please?