Summary: Ishval was abolished and its peoples cast into exile with a single page. Ishval will be restored and its people brought back home with a single page as well. Old Amestris is now truly dead in its trespasses. Long live Democracy! Long live the Republic!
Notes: This is the first chapter that is properly original. I have started giving people names and Ishvalans are getting mostly Abrahamic ones. Miles is a slight subversion as he is named Yunus and also Janus, when hiding his Ishvalan origins. Those are in order references to the Prophet Jonah (his Arabic name), but more importantly to the "Roman God of all beginnings, gates, transitions, time, choices, duality, doorways, passages, and endings," which seems fitting for his role. Scar's master is named Jehoash after the 10th King of the House of David. The name means roughly God-given in both Hebrew and Ishvalan, because I chose to interpret "ash" as being a kind of "[vowel]sh" bit meaning roughly "Lord" in their language. Those familiar with Hebrew theophorics know that in Hebrew it is the "Jeho-" part actually does that by referencing YHVH. Scar's name does something similar and that is as far as I will got, lest I spoil it for later.
On Tuesday, the time for physical therapy was set for one in the afternoon. A doctor and a nurse entered the room and helped Jean Havoc get there, as despite having only endured one ninth of the time without the ability to walk compared to the time Alphonse had spent without a body, he was having bigger trouble. Al just walked, while Havoc muttered in his wheelchair. "A little good will would not kill you," Edward teased, and the man grimaced at him.
"I have all the good will for your brother, Ed. But when I have more trouble walking than most infants, seeing him casually walk around the room makes me feel several emotions, and none of them are good or pleasant." "Mr. Havoc, you are dealing with damage to your motor neurons, while Mr. Elric just has muscle degeneration. You, in essence, ARE learning to walk again," the doctor interrupted them.
"If you hate it, you could always go back to using a wheelchair," Alphonse said with an air of innocence, and Edward snickered before he saw Havoc's scowl and visibly exhale through his nose. "Oh great, now we have two sarcastic brats," Havoc said in a faux despairing tone. "What do you mean now," Ed immediately protested. "I repeatedly told you the nice boy attitude is an act, and you didn't believe me." "At least I bother, brother," Al promptly sassed. "See! He admits it."
"Gentlemen, as much as I like to see our patients in high spirits," the doctor began with a slight grumble. "This is the country's main hospital. If you wish to speak, could you do so at a lower volume? I think many people on this floor would appreciate it." "We'll try, but you might need to bark at us a few... a dozen times," Edward answered, but did so a bit more quietly than compared to the volume he talked at before.
The physical therapy room was on the same floor. Some might question the sanity of this also being the highest of all the floors, but it had been built in as a part of an expansion, and there was no area around where they could have put it. Mostly, it was a large gym, but it included several items normally not considered part of standard gym equipment. The nurse brought Havoc's wheelchair in front of a pair of long handlebars with a walkway covered in soft fabric between them.
Alphonse, meanwhile, was directed by a doctor to a set of stairs. It was essentially two sets of small stairs put against each other by their backs, with a small platform between them. "Today, Mr. Havoc will try to continue improving your motor coordination. I believe slow walking is possible for you before the session is over," he declared, and the nurse nodded as she placed herself to help Havoc if he suddenly fell back into his wheelchair.
"Meanwhile, you," the Doctor continued and turned to Alphonse. "... will take part in this little endurance test. I want you to walk over it back and forth until you feel genuine resistance in the muscles of your legs. I don't mean just a vague feeling of tiredness here, because I want to see how long it takes for the muscle to become overwhelmed with metabolic waste." He took out a small tally counter and waved his right hand for Al to begin.
After each journey across the stairs, he clicked the button on the tally counter. Meanwhile, Havoc started to walk in a straight line back and forth along the handlebars, with the nurse constantly following just outside them. "Given previous experiences, how long do you think it will take me to get to Al's point, doc," Havoc suddenly asked, and without looking, the doctor answered. "My experience tells me it's unpredictable. People with near identical wounds may differ by months."
"Also, as the Doctor has told you, you are a different case, Mr. Havoc," the nurse added. "Beside, Al is technically starting off in a better position for another reason," Edward entered the conversation. He had sat down in a chair next to a table in one of the corners of the room and started fiddling with a radio. "He's 14." Havoc promptly turned to him and said, "I'm 25, Ed. I am NOT old!" "I think he was referring to puberty," Alphonse explained.
"Though, if anything, I am actually starting at a disadvantage. The military doctor told me that suffering malnutrition and low muscle mass this late into puberty is probably going to have some consequences, unless I start a daily exercise regime." The doctor nodded in agreement. "And it is a very accurate assessment, Mr. Elric. After I am assured that you have reached an acceptable level of strength in your legs, we will immediately dive into improving hand strength too. You should not have an issue barely holding up a half-a-litre glass of water."
Edward finally found the right station after fiddling with the radio for a good ten minutes, and the room was filled with symphonic music. "I think that is Radio Central," he stated, and things continued mostly in silence from the other people except for the occasional clicking before the song changed to something closer to country music. "We would like to remind our listeners that a special government announcement will be carried out at 2 o'clock today. Please remain tuned to this frequency," an announcer told his audience when it ended.
Radio Central invited Secretary Douglas to its afternoon news broadcast as part of a new government policy, where any new executive orders would be officially introduced to the entire nation. "I thank Radio Central for slotting me in at the last minute. His Excellency Führer Grumman had signed these orders late in the evening yesterday, and the idea only came to us then," he explained, and the announcer smiled at him. "There is no need for such thanks. Our radio is always ready to serve our righteous leaders."
"Very well, then," Douglas responded, slightly moving his microphone to make sure it was properly positioned for him. "Dear citizens, I bring you information about two executive orders. The first will deal with the entirety of Amestris and the second will specifically address the region of Ishval and its people." In those few locations where Ishvalans had a nearby radio available, all of their ears perked up.
Scar's master, Jehoash, and those residing in the slums around Central had been told of this in advance. In the morning, both Miles and Scar had been invited to join Douglas during the announcement and were sitting opposite each other without their own microphones. "In accordance with Executive Order Number 3944 that takes effect immediately, the Governmental duties that have been assumed by the office of Führer President are restored to a civilian government.
The relevant ministers were already sworn into their positions yesterday at a private ceremony conducted in the Parliament Building. The photographs taken during it will be published in tomorrow's issue of the government gazette and by the major news publishers. I shall now list these people alongside their ministerial positions." "I know that Armstrong wanted to have Defense and Interior, and Marcoh definitely got Health. I wonder what the other got," Edward stated back in the hospital.
"Well, I think we can both guess what Colonel Mustang got," Alphonse responded as he tried to take the small stairs in one go rather than taking smaller steps. "It's General Mustang, now," Havoc reminded him, and it almost caused him to fall to the ground. "Less talking," the nurse huffed in annoyance as she caught him by his armpits as the rustling of papers on the radio ended. Edward rolled his eyes at that. Did Douglas seriously not have that list memorized?
"General Roy Mustang is the Prime Minister, General Olivier Mira Armstrong is the Joint Minister of Interior and Defence, Lieutenant General Riza Hawkeye is the Joint Minister of Finance and Justice," Douglas listed. "Because she's the most likely not to crash the economy," Al loudly declared, and Edward and Havoc laughed and nodded in agreement. "Lieutenant General Lawrence Henschel is the Joint Minister of Industry and Diplomacy," the Secretary continued, and Ed looked at the radio with a disgusted face.
"They gave diplomacy to him?! I thought we wanted to conduct peace with Creta and Aurego. Why give the job to someone as tactless as him?" "And finally, Doctor Timothy Marcoh is the Minister of Health. In addition, on account of our new Führer being a widower, the position of First Lady is given to the aforementioned Lieutenant General Riza Hawkeye, who as his grandmother is Grumman's closest living female relative." Ed and Al looked at each other with a mix of surprise and confusion.
"Oh yeah. I completely forgot about that," the latter noted. "I feel like we should have seen that coming. But those two...," Ed began. "Yeah. You really wouldn't guess it, and it comes up so really even back in the East we regularly forgot about that," Havoc noted, and this time managed to catch himself before falling. The nurse sighed. "Mr. Havoc, if you cannot focus on conversation and walking at once, please stop talking when you are trying to walk. We want to minimise the number of times you fall to the floor."
"The government is henceforth given four hundred days to re-establish all the necessary offices of state that have lapsed in the decades since Parliament was dissolved. It is currently planned, but not declared in this Executive Order, that the restoration of popular elections should occur at the start of next year. Currently, it is estimated that political parties will be allowed to form around New Years' and an election should be called in late spring or early summer of 1915. Further details will be released in the future."
"Hopefully this time it lasts longer than twenty years," Edward muttered. "If I remember the dates right, then Parliament was dissolved even before Grumman was born, wasn't it," Al reminded him. "Do you think I know the guy's birthday? I just know he's somewhere in his seventies and can't wait until he starts to show his true nature to the people at large. After Bradley, it will be fun to have an elderly grandfather as head of state."
"As regards the treason of two days ago," Douglas began again. "The executive order makes two provisions. First that the state funeral of Führer King Bradley should take place on before next Friday and whichever date will be chosen will also be a state and bank holiday. Specific details of timing and route will be given by the Government within the following days. Further, a Grand Court Martial will be called together and from the day following the funeral, and it will judge the arrested leaders Klemin and Edison."
"They are moving a bit slow," Havoc said, and this time he was already holding himself up. "Usually a court-martial would be called within five days," he added, according to his indirect experience. "I think they want to make sure to have as much evidence as they can get," Alphonse argued. "Also, why do I feel like we are going to have to attend Bradley's funeral?" Edward loudly groaned. "Oh, fuck right off! I am not attending that. The moment I get a chance to meet Grumman, I am resigning."
He ignored the slight judging look from both medical professionals. It was not clear whether the swearing or the implicit loudly insults of Bradley made them look at him like that, but he did not care. He couldn't tell them the truth anyway. Everything about Father was still a state secret of the highest order. Mustang and Armstrong agreed that telling everyone the country was raised as a sacrificial victim for almost four centuries would cause Amestris to implode.
Ed agreed with that assessment, but that did not mean he had to like lying to people. He had been allowed to give the truth only to those closest to him, and he was then responsible for their silence. "Now it is time for Executive Order Number 3945 regarding Ishval, whose opening words I believe would be best to read verbatim for the sake of explaining its provisions. I would like to ask Major Yunus Miles, who is a one quarter Ishvalan, to join me and translate in the people's own language."
While almost every Ishvalan started paying much closer attention than until now, Miles moved got up and moved his chair to sit next to Douglas, who scooted over to allow both of them to share the microphone. "You don't need to translate exactly, just make sure the message gets across," the Secretary whispered with a hand in front of his mouth to avoid the mike picking them up. "I will try, but Ishvalan legalese is something one of our Priests would be a lot more familiar with," Miles whispered back.
"As evidence has emerged, that the Traitors against the State, which had acted on 21 Mar 1915, had been involved in perfidious activities since at least the beginning of this century and further that they had intentionally exasperated and perhaps even wilfully aided in triggering the Civil War of 1901, the Government has deemed Executive Order Number 3066 to have been made under false pretences.
It has now become abundantly clear that these very same Traitors had suggested and forced by any means available to them the situation towards an end goal most profitable to them. By undermining the ability of the army and both aiding Ishvalan fighters with secret weapon supplies and committing acts with the intent of further angering those same people, they sought to bring about certain eradication of the people of Ishval, so that they would have free access to the land's resources as they believed it was useful to their cause.
As such, it has been decided that the aforementioned Executive Order Number 3066 shall be wholly abolished. It is hereby declared completely null and utterly void and shall henceforth be treated as if it had never existed. All provisions drawing their power from it shall likewise cease to have power immediately."
After every paragraph, Douglas had paused and Miles gave his best attempt at translating the complicated sentences into Ishvalan. In various regions of the country, loud cheers were heard as the last paragraph had been pronounced. "They are really trying to skirt around it," Edward judged as he thought through the wording. "I get easing people into it, but Mustang has already made it clear he wants to wipe the Civil War from history.
He's already planned an entire public bonfire of all the awards given to the military and State Alchemists," he added. "I think, if they just came out and told people that the Ishvalan girl really was shot on purpose and the bastards in the High Command knew that and inflamed the passions on purpose, soldiers just might defect en masse," Havoc explained his own understanding and both brothers noted the uncomfortable looks from the doctor and nurse. "Mr. Havoc, until they decide it's safe to actually tell people that, it's still legally classified," Alphonse chided him.
"The land of Ishval is henceforth restored as an ordinary civilian province with an autonomous government. The new Governor General will be Mr. Miles here, and he will be sworn in later today," Douglas continued still and Scar raised a surprised eyebrow in the studio. His fellow Ishvalan had neglected to tell him that, and now looked at him with a slight smile. "The legal exile of the people is reversed, and the territory is now free to settle by anyone with local ancestry."
"Miles, I want you to translate this as well," he whispered, and the future Governor General bent closer to him. "I would like to remind the Ishvalan people that there is no infrastructure in the Desert of Ishval besides bombed out ruins. Do not simply go dancing with joy and wonder into an abandoned wasteland. You may be its traditional inhabitants, but those of you, who remember it as it was before 1901, will not find any human construction they may recall from those times."
Miles and Scar both did eye rolls, but the former dutiful translated. Although he chose his words in a much less insulting manner and instead asked that his fellow kinsmen do not forget in their jubilation, that Ishvala's land is not a forgiving area and prepare accordingly if they wish to return to their land right now. It was ever so slightly in vain as the moment Douglas' words about nullity and voiding were uttered, a good chunk of the people started packing what little they had.
"Ehm... Doctor, I think my legs have had enough of it," Alphonse suddenly announced back at the hospital and did not turn back to go up the small stairs again. "We got to 1765 passes," the doctor read off the counter. "I think that is enough for now. I would like us to get it to an even 2000 before we call at a day, but perhaps now would be an opportune time to try fixing the issue for your arms, since we have about 15 minutes left on the clock."
Jehoash had a peculiar task granted to him in his capacity as the Priest of Ishvalah. His disciple, now refusing to use his birth name and using the nickname Scar, passed a request onto him that a quarter Ishvalan disciple of their god had asked him to come and bless his ascension to the office of Governor General of Ishval. Mere hours after their nation learned that the eight years of exile of their people had been ended with a one-page document - which caused many of them to spend almost all the time until sunset in celebration and prayer - he and his closest followers had the door of the Presidential Estate open to them.
"Welcome, gentleman," said Riza Hawkeye, and behind her Mrs. Joan Bradley bowed to them with a solemn look. She knew her presence would not make things exactly easy given her husband's actions towards Ishval, but Grumman, Hawkeye and Miles had all insisted she should come as a sign of reconciliation. In accordance with Ishvalan tradition as explained by Scar, the necessary items for the blessing had been prepared in advance. Additionally, an empty brazier stood in the middle of the front room, which was an odd choice.
Then Gregory Storch entered carrying a folded piece of paper and Roy Mustang followed right behind him. A photographer quickly ran in after them. As the Ishvalan men took off their shoes and spread around the room, the paper was placed inside the brazier and Jehoash noticed the number 3066 printed at the top and the Amestrian dragon symbol behind the text. "Every Executive Order has two copies," explained Storch and there were several flashes from the photographer.
"One is archived, and the other is part of the physical government gazette. This is the latter one. The former one shall remain as a remained of the infamy that occurred against your people," Mustang finished and flicked his hands. Everyone else in the room winced as a large fire surrounded the brazier and the paper vanished from sight in seconds. Jehoash swore his moustache caught on fire from all the heat.
The photographer's flashes continued, and he also took several photos of the brazier, which was now radiating heat and filled with a small layer of black ash. "I would argue that the ashes themselves should be subject to a firing, and this would go until nothing remained," Miles said as he entered the room. He then turned to Jehoash, bowed almost at a right angle and in their language told him "Blessing upon thee, oh Minister of the Lord of Truth. Long may be thine years, and powerful the voice gifted to thee in the conscience of our people."
Scar may or may not have ever so slightly winced at the second part of the last sentence. Jehoash made a slightly smaller bow and replied with "Greetings to thee, brother Yunus. May our Lord multiply thine years, ever increase thine wisdom, and make you a precious Child of Truth in his eyes." The man walked to each other and hugged. "It is great to know that you have deemed my request worthy. I knew of no other priest of Ishvala that could make it in time," Miles said, and the hug was photographed too.
He had reverted to the common language of all in the room. "We have prepared everything necessary to carry out a proper blessing for a leader of our people," Scar explained. "Whenever you wish, we may begin the ceremony, Master." "But first, Grumman has invited you and your man to dinner. The cooks have made lamb with rice for us," Mustang added. Jehoash smiled, for that was his peoples' signature food for celebrations. Indeed, during dinner, he requested that the cooks be given thanks for their work.
Unlike the induction of the Government that had taken place in Parliament, Yunus Miles was given his title in the Presidential Estate. The sword of state was brought here as well and, with immense thanks that he only had to do it once, Grumman took it in preparation. Douglas had once again prepared cheat cards for them to read the texts of the oath from. By this point, most of the people in the room were annoyed with the constant flashing of the camera bulb, but such had to be endured.
"I, Major Yunus Miles, do declare that I will until my term ends fulfil all the duties due of me as Governor General of Ishval. I shall administer the people under my command with justice, with mercy and with wisdom. I will always provide faithful and to the best of my knowledge true information to the Government. The joy of my people shall be my good pleasure; the conduct of justice shall be my favourite pass time; and their ever enduring prosperity my one and only dream. This I all declare of my own free will."
After Grumman tapped him on the shoulders and put away the sword of state, Jehoash stepped forward with a bottle of palm oil that he had been provided. He dipped his right hand's index and middle fingers inside and made five marks of Miles. One was on his nose, two on the cheeks and two on the palms of his hand. The priest then began reciting an Ishvalan prayer. "Oh, Lord of Truth, Father of All Things that were, are and will be, impart your wisdom and knowledge, your mercy and perfect judgement, upon your servant and make him a perfect leader in all things."
Before they could move on with the ceremony itself, Mustang walked up to Jehoash. "Sir, I would like to ask something of you," he explained. "I am led to think that you believe the God of this world is merciful in his dealings and judges only for the sake of saving men," he continued with a slightly questioning tone. "That we do indeed, Mr. Mustang." "Would it be considered an act of sacrilege if those not of your people would ask for this blessing?"
Every Ishvalan in the room, baring Miles and Scar, turned to look at him. Given Grumman, Hawkeye and Bradley did not look surprised; they had apparently already known he would ask for this. "It would not quite be a sacrilege," Jehoash responded after a moment of thought. "But it would certainly be unusual to ask for it. If a person is a believer in Ishvala it would be understandable, but I am let to believe that you are not a religious man." There was definitely a hint that Jehoash was choosing his words carefully.
"I would describe myself as questioning. I ask for this because I wish to make it clear that the country truly wants to turn relationships with Ishval around. Both I and the Führer would be happy to show that for this we are willing to approach you under your own laws and customs. If we are to be the head of the country you are a part of, we wish to rule with your faith's blessing. Jehoash pondered the question for a while.
"Ishval has never truly had to ask such a question. Our leaders until the Conquest had always been of the faith and your Predecessors never asked," he finally responded. "But now they do," pointed out Miles. "I may not have the wisdom of you, great priest. But I believe Ishvala would accept genuine oaths, even if given by doubting men. It is after all said that it is not the head, but the heart that our god searches first." Jehoash turned to his disciples, and for a moment they discussed in whispers.
"Very well," he said, and Grumman and Mustang walked in front of him and kneeled on the ground. The priest repeated the blessing with them and pronounced the prayer again, but with slight alterations and also not in the original Ishvalan. "Oh, Lord of Truth, Father of All Things that were, are and will be, if it is acceptable in your sight, impart your wisdom and knowledge, your mercy and perfect judgement, upon these men from without our fold and make them.
While her granddaughter worked on another project upstairs, Pinako Rockbell met with the mail man outside. "Morning, Mrs. Rockbell, I bare tidings for you," he announced. The lady took a huff of her pipe and looked at the roll of newspaper and a letter the man was carrying. "You bring more than one kind of tiding, I see. Have the boys finally decided to send us a message?" "Indeed, the letter is from Edward and Alphonse, madam." She nodded in satisfaction and took both pieces of post inside.
She placed the letter and called for Winry to come downstairs. Before she actually disentangled herself from her newest project, Pinako went ahead to read the paper. She was nigh certain the project was something for Ed, since the girl could try as much as she wanted, but she could not hide a crush from her knowledgeable grandmother. She put another bit of tobacco into her pipe and started reading. The first page was mostly covered with seven large photographs showing the new government.
The first line contained the photographs of Mustang, Grumman and Armstrong in that order. That choice of positioning, based on her limited knowledge, was rather symbolic of the real relations between the three. Mustang and Armstrong were the two rival leaders, and Grumman was basically a mix of a living barrier between the pair and a dad trying to keep his two children from misbehaving. Sure, the pair would hate the latter comparison, but after dealing with three kids it honestly fit.
"Did we get a message from Ed and Al," Winry asked as she ran down the stairs. Well, that was faster than Pinako thought. Then again, the crush was a bonus on both sides in this case, so that probably made it equal in this case. "Yes," she answered and pointed to the envelope. It was torn apart rather quickly. "Alphonse wrote this one." Pinako could hear the slight disappointment and did her best to not smile. Those two were both giant dorks, who thought they could hide shit from a senior.
Hello everyone, this is Alphonse.
It is with great pleasure that I can finally write a letter to you with my own hand... Winry had just barely started to read, and already you could hear the gears in her head stalling. Pinako promptly stopped reading the paper and leaned to the side. "Granny... I am reading that right, am I not," she asked, and after a moment she nodded in confirmation. "I will admit I was not expecting to hear that," Pinako added and shuffled her chair slightly closer. "We have too...," Winry started. "We can go insane with preparing celebrations later, Win. Let's finish the letter first."
I will defer actually talking about the Promised Day for after we return. Needless to say is that everything besides, what you already heard from other channels, is highly classified.
Shortly after Father was taken care of, which is the only way you can describe what happened to him, Ed found a way to restore my body. As a result, he is no longer an alchemist. And no, I don't mean it as an occupation. I mean that he gave up his very ability to be one in exchange.
This time, both women's gears refused to turn for a few seconds. "Winry, if we keep stopping every time Alphonse drops a bombshell out of left field, we'll be here until evening," the grandmother finally told her. "Let's just keep going."
Since my body has remained intact the entire time, but only received the minimum amount of nutrition required to survive, I now look like skin carelessly stretched over a skeleton without any organs between that. Per doctor's order, I will need to spend at least a week in hospital under observation. I and Mr. Jean Havoc, who has had his walking restored to him by intervention of Dr. Marcoh, will now attend physical therapy together. Winry, as much as I would love to taste all the food I had missed over the years, the doctors have forbidden me from eating that for at least a week after that. Sorry.
At this point the cursive turned into unreadable squiggles and another one came over. Unfortunately, it appears the muscles of Al's arm are too weak to continue writing, so it's now Edward. Pinako looked up and saw that slight smile her grandmother was hiding. If you are wondering how come the writing is so much neater, it is because for the first time in years, I don't have to write with neither a non-dominant hand nor an automail one that doesn't have the tactile sense need to do it well.
Okay, the constant stalling was getting ridiculous at this point, but apparently the brothers had decided to just randomly through stuff at them. "Just keep going," Winry parroted and continued reading. Pinako could see the slight undercurrent of disappointment that her crush no longer had an automail arm, but it was covered by a great sense of jubilation at the same. I am personally doing relatively well for punching an immortal with a god complex in the face.
Both women burst out laughing and wagged their heads in disbelief. As Alphonse has told you above, I no longer have even the potential to be an alchemist, but rest assured I am content. It is little in comparison to giving my brother back his life. We hope that Al's stay at the hospital will be short, and we will finally get together like we used to. At this point, I am willing to keep an automail leg, if everything else gets cleared without any more debt on my head.
Both of us send you all well wishes. Enjoy yourself in our absence, and we'll see you again in a few days. What followed were two signatures. Edward's was readable. Alphonse's was just about with three lines beneath it in much smaller size: Al wants to apologise for that mess, because he's a perfectionist. I'm not!