Chapter 9: Coup de tat
Friendship is Magic; Damnation is Alchemy
By Anonymous Card Captor
My Little Pony-Friendship is Magic is created by Lauren Faust and owned by Hasbro Studios. Fullmetal Alchemist is created by Hiromu Arakawa. All other characters are the creation of the author. All thoughts or anything read by a character is in italics.
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Chapter 9: Coup de tat
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Flashback
“Oh, you look so handsome.” Wind Dancer beamed with pride at her cherished son. She and Sky Ripper were helping Wind Racer into his training armor, a silver version of the armor worn by the palace guards.
Sky Ripper, who finished strapping the cuirass on Wind Racer, gave his son a friendly tap on the shoulder. “Wind Racer’s going to show the princess he’s a chip off the old block. He’ll fly rings around the competition and become captain of the guard just like his father.” He had a smile from ear to ear.
Wind Racer looked away from his parents while wearing a sour look on his face. “Yeah sure, dad, whatever,” Wind Racer sulked.
Sky Ripper’s smile turned to an angry scowl. “Dear, don’t you have dinner to cook?”
“Oh no, you don’t,” said Wind Dancer as she stood between her son and husband. “What are you accusing my son of doing *this* time?”
“Oh please,” Sky Ripper rolled his eyes, “we’re just going to have a stallion-to-stallion talk. That’s all.”
“I’ll take your word for it,” said Wind Dancer as she made her way to the kitchen. She then stopped and looked back. “Don’t forget. I can hear you from the kitchen.”
Sky Ripper waited for his wife to leave before giving his wayward son the third degree. “What the feather is wrong with you?!?” Sky Ripper kicked up a bit cloud.
“It’s...complicated.” Wind Racer mumbled.
“Then I’ll make it simple for you. Even though I’m getting old and my body aches from wearing a hundred pounds of metal all day, I’m holding on to the title of captain of the guard for your sake, but you’re not guaranteed the position. Her majesty is talking about making some unicorn from a no-name family the new captain. We won’t let that happen, right Wind Racer? Right Wind Racer?!?”
“Yes father,” Wind Racer grumbled.
“Say it like you mean it!” Sky Ripper growled.
Wind Racer took a deep breath and repeated, “Yes father,” but more forcefully.
“That’s better. Now finish packing your things. You don’t want to be late for your first day of training.”
End of Flashback
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“Douglas dear, we’re here.” April gently nudged Wind Racer and stirred him from his nap. He showed his ‘gratitude’ by slapping April’s hand away.
“Don’t disturb me, dammit!”
“Calm down, buddy,” said Colonel Claymore. “We’re in South City. You don’t wanna miss your stop, do you?”
“Sorry about that, Phil,” said Wind Racer.
“Did you have a bad dream or something?”
“Douglas, you were mumbling about your father,” said April.
“Don’t put your nose in my personal business!” Wind Racer snapped at April. “It’s nothing to worry about, Phil,” Wind Racer said in a more polite tone to Claymore. “It’s just a stupid dream. That’s all.”
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General Apache reclined on the park bench at the train station waiting for his replacement. He was a black man with short gray hair receding into a deep widow’s peak. The newspaper he was reading rustled as a gentle breeze passed by. The old general flipped through a newspaper to kill time. The paper had the usual depressing stories. Some woman murdered her grandmother for insurance money. The next page was over a budget dispute between Parliament and Fuehrer Mustang-something about allocating more money for renovating the Briggs Fortress. He flipped pass the front page news until he came across the home and garden section. There was a nice recipe for stuffed crepes and an enticing photo of one topped with strawberries. He licked his lips as he imagined himself taking a bite and savoring the sweet flavor.
“I hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long.” General Apache lowered the paper and saw Wind Racer stooped over him. Behind him were Colonel Claymore and April.
“Major General Douglas Sinclair, am I correct?”
Wind Racer saluted him. “Yes sir, you are.” Wind Racer handed General Apache a brown envelope. “Here are my transfer papers, sir.”
General Apache took the paperwork out of the envelope and scanned over it. “You are to officially take command at 1200 hours tomorrow. And I take it your traveling companions are transfers as well.”
“I am, sir,” Claymore replied.
“Lieutenant Colonel Claymore, is it?”
“Yes sir, it is.”
“And the young lady is?”
“This is my unofficial fiancée April Ferguson, sir,” said Wind Racer.
“Is that what they’re called shacking up nowadays?” General Apache said contemptuously. Wind Racer turned to Claymore and rolled his eyes. “Times are changing. Oh well. So, does the Fuehrer still want me to be your adviser?”
Wind Racer huffed. “I’m afraid the Fuehrer doesn’t think I’m up to the task, sir.”
General Apache patted Wind Racer on the shoulder. “Aw, don’t let that get to you. They’ll be plenty of time to prove yourself.”
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One month later
The Ishvalan town of Lowe’s Hope was abuzz with the unexpected arrival of a high-ranking Amestrian officer. The town, which was more of a work camp than a community, was named after Supreme Cleric Logue Lowe who was executed under orders from Fuehrer Bradley. Ishvalan refugees were given jobs building the railroad from South City to Aerugo. The peace between the Ishvalans and Amestrian was still in its infancy and some of the concerned laborers took an extended lunch break to keep a close watch on this newcomer. They gathered near the single room schoolhouse set aside for the few adolescent Ishvalans.
“Are they inside?” A teenage Ishvalan with a crane-like physique asked.
An Ishvalan woman, who pried her ear off the window pane, nodded. “From what I’ve heard, it’s just one officer.”
“What’s he doing?”
“It’s something to do with the extermination order. Now hush so I can hear.” It was then the woman felt a tap on the shoulder. The woman turned and was face-to-face with a brawny-looking Ishvalan. He was in his forties and about a head shorter than the teenager but much more stoutly built. He sported a goatee and a cru cut. The woman, teenager, and the rest of the onlookers snapped to attention. “Mr. Saladin, sir, we were about to get back to work.”
“Are you snooping in on that Amestrian officer?” The others looked away from Mr. Saladin.
“Well, sir,” said the woman, “we just wanted to know if...”
“Quit mumbling and spit it out.”
“Well, you see Mr. Saladin...”
“Don’t bother making excuses. I know what you’re up to. What I don’t understand is why you’re snooping around. He’s on our land.” Mr. Saladin knocked on the door. “I’ve been in hiding for years, and unless Ishval wills otherwise, I’m not going back.”
The door cracked open and Wind Racer peered through. “Yes, can I help you?” He wore a pair of non-prescription eyeglasses. His mustache was dyed grey. The brown hair from the cheap toupee clashed with the grey hair dye that Wind Racer used to color his hair. It would give the impression that he was going bald.
“I was about to ask the same of you.” Mr. Saladin folded his arms and gave Wind Racer a suspicious look.
“You must be Mr. Saladin, the foreman for the Southern Railway. I’m Colonel Jonathan Doe.” Wind Racer offered Mr. Saladin a handshake, but the Ishvalan snubbed the gesture.
“I don’t give a damn about your name. What I do care about is the uniform. What’s a colonel doing around here?”
“It’s nothing important really. I’m merely wrapping up a fact-finding mission before I’m reassigned. I just need to ask you a few questions.”
“I speak my mind because I don’t like mincing words and beating around the bush. The last time your kind was here, my race was almost wiped out. Now tell us why the hell you’re snooping around.”
“Mr. Saladin, I assure you that I didn’t come here to spy on your people.”
“Unless you tell me why you’re here, no Ishvalans is giving you answers. I’ll make damn sure of that.”
“This investigation is classified. I’m under orders not to reveal anything to...”
“Don’t tell this dog of the military anything unless you want to lose your jobs,” Mr. Saladin bellowed.
“In that case, I’ll be taking my leave. Good day, sir.” Wind Racer did an about-face and headed back to the train station.
The teenager, who was on the sidelines watching the conversation between Mr. Saladin and Wind Racer, took a deep breath and spoke up. “Are you sure that’s a smart thing to...”
“Don’t question me!” Saladin yelled. “Boy, you’re going to have to learn to never volunteer information, most of all to those military dogs. They’re just looking for excuses to come down on our heads. Now get back to work. Your lunch break is over and don’t whine about not eating.”
But as they were turning to leave, Wind Racer called out to them. “Wait! Don’t go.”
Mr. Saladin, with self-satisfying smirk on his face, glanced back at the teenager and then back at Wind Racer. “So, you’ll tell us why you’re here.”
Wind Racer, with the most solemn look he could muster, sighed. “Yes, I’ll talk. Central is wrong for keeping this a secret from the Ishvalans. Your people deserve to hear the truth.”
“The truth?!? Whadda mean ‘your people deserve to hear the truth’?!?”
“I could get court-martialed for telling you...no...I don’t care anymore. I’m tired of keeping it a secret.” Wind Racer’s tone was that of a man with a conflicted conscious. “I was sent by Central to investigate the death that started the civil war.”
“What’s there to investigate?” Mr. Saladin sneered. “You know damn well it was you soldiers that started it. That child you military dogs shot in cold blood was just the first casualty. You better have a better answer than that if you want our cooperation.”
“Central Intelligence uncovered a hidden bank account belonging to the soldier in question worth a small fortune, ten million centz to be precise. Bank records show that the ten million was deposited into the account as cash. The account was created and the ten million centz was deposited the day before the soldier murdered the Ishvalan child.”
“Are you saying that man was paid to start a war? Who was it! Who were the bastards responsible for this?”
Wind Racer closed his eyes and sighed. “Just before the soldier was deployed to Ishval, he was visited by a man fitting the description of one of the diplomats from Aerugo.” Mr. Saladin was wide-eyed with shock.
“Are you sure it was the Aerugonians?” The woman asked. “How do you know it didn’t come from someone else?”
“No one in his family had that sort of money. It’s true my investigation is still ongoing. However, if I were to be as frank as Mr. Saladin, Aerugo is as guilty as sin.”
“You expect us to believe Aerugo was behind the war? Why should we trust you?”
“You’re welcome to believe whatever you wish. As I said before, my investigation is still ongoing. It might prove to be a false lead, though to be honest Aerugo was supplying your people with just enough weapons to prolong the conflict and then denied you sanctuary when the extermination campaign started.” Mr. Saladin’s glare softened as he ‘realized’ there may be some truth to this military dog’s story given the Ishvalans’ past dealings with Aerugo. “It’s a shame really. I lost two brothers in that war, and your people lost everything. The only one who had any involvement in the civil war that came out unscathed was Aerugo.” Wind Racer checked his pocket watch. “My train will be leaving soon.”
“You’re leaving already?!?” Mr. Saladin said.
“I wish I could talk to some more, but I am in need of lodging and this town doesn’t have any inns.”
Mr. Saladin took hold of Wind Racer’s arm. “I can’t let you go, not yet. Not until I get some answers. We have an empty lodge in the work camp. Reschedule your departure time for tomorrow. We can talk about your investigation after you get back.”
When he turned his face away from the Ishvalans, Wind Racer no longer held back the jaded smile he concealed under a façade of empathy.
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It was the day Riza dreaded above all others. There wasn’t a day that went by that her thoughts didn’t drifted back to the night when she committed her greatest folly in her life. It’s been almost two months since she set eyes on the man she loved as a woman and protected as a bodyguard. Riza received a phone call from the man himself, Fuhrer Roy Mustang, to meet him in his office ASAP. Being called back to the presidential palace on such short notice was a cause for concern for Riza. Was the Fuhrer serving her with a dishonorable discharge? Mustang leaned back in his chair and stared. Riza longed for Mustang to break the torturous silence. Scold her. Curse her. Threaten her with the stockades. Anything would be more bearable than the silent treatment.
“I’ve been thinking about an early retirement,” said Mustang.
“Sir, please don’t resign for my misconduct.”
“Who said anything about resigning? You jumped to conclusions, Lieutenant. Keep in mind why I became fuehrer?”
“To protect the people of this country,” said Riza.
“And from what? The Homunculi have been defeated, we have the strongest military on this side of the globe, and we’re on the verge of having a full-fledged democracy. It’s pointless to be fuehrer when there are no more threats to worry about.”
“Sir, that’s selfish of you,” Hawkeye frowned.
“When has selfishness ever bothered your conscious? You’ve been my co-conspirator in one selfish endeavor after another.”
“What are you talking about, sir? I’ve never help you indulge in any ‘selfish endeavors’, whatever that means.”
“Quite the contrary, you have. You were there when I became a state alchemist to serve the country I love. And you were there when I set my sight on becoming fuehrer for the selfish desire to protect my love ones. All I’m asking you to do is to see me through one more selfish endeavor.”
“And what endeavor would that be.”
“To make you happy.”
Riza looked away while blushing. “Don’t tease me, sir. You can’t shuck your duties. Real life isn’t some 10-centz romance novel. Amestris needs us.”
“You’re right about one thing. Life isn’t like the romance novel where the young stable boy runs away with the princess and lives happily ever after. However, you and I aren’t immortal. Someday, Amestris will have to learn to live without the Flame Alchemist and the Hawk’s Eye. We won’t be around forever. Besides, it’s better to step aside for a bit and see how things work out than to make the country dependent on us.”
“Aren’t you being egotistical?”
“No, but you were,” Roy grinned playfully. “You were afraid the country would fall apart without us. Look, I won’t leave until the future of Amestris is secured. Then you and I can go AWOL together. What do you say, Lieutenant? I’ll even let you drag me off to Xing.”
“I would...like this, but...”
“But what?”
“I would like to go beyond a professional relationship with you, but the military life suits me.”
“Are you asking if I want to be the civilian husband to a military career woman? I don’t mind. I’d just go back to doing pure research anyway.”
Riza turned an even deeper shade of red. “Isn’t that rushing things a bit? Not that I wouldn’t want to but...”
“You don’t have to accept my marriage proposal just yet, Lieutenant.”
“But it wouldn’t be right for you to resign...I meant retire without an answer from me.”
Roy placed a reassuring hand on Riza’s shoulder. “I trust you’ll tell me when you’re absolutely certain.”
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Fort Abrams was Amestris’ state-of-the-art fortress. Construction began almost immediately after the Ishvalan uprising as a guard against further encroachment, both in the form of overt invasion and in the form of covert arms shipments to dissidents, from Aerugo. From the outside, it appeared to be a fortified five-story building surrounded by a wall of concrete topped with a spiral band of razor wire. However, most of the fortress was beneath the surface-fifteen stories of underground chambers with a subway system leading to the various machine gun nests dotting the border.
The caterwaul made by the bugle call piped through the base intercom system stirred the denizens of the old fort from their slumber. The halls of Fort Abrams were filled with drowsy soldiers waiting impatiently for their turn under the streams of cold water in the barrack showers before slipping on their uniforms and tending to their duties. About thirty minutes later, the entire staff was in the front yard. General Apache and Wind Racer took their place at the front of the formation.
“At ease, men,” said Wind Racer. “I know a 0330 hour bugle call is a bit early, but as the Amestris South Border Guard, we have to be ready to take up arms at a moment’s notice. After breakfast, we’re going on training exercises with both blanks and live ammunition. So, make sure they’re properly labeled. We wouldn’t want any unfortunate accidents.”
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Saladin was quite pleased at Colonel Doe for coming through for them. An armament consisting of 20 rifles and two mortars launchers was stashed behind a rock formation. Not far in the distance was one of the guard posts along the Aerugo-Amestris border. The chain-link fence topped with barbed wire that lined the border was as cold and indifferent as the day Saladin pleaded with the border guards to take his little girl. He lifted her blood-stained body trying to get their attention, but it didn’t matter to the Aerugonians. They were content to watch her bleed to death.
Saladin ordered his men to take the position behind the rocks and to wait for the morning sun to clear the horizon and shower the land with its rays. It was their opening to attack. The glare would make it impossible for the Aerugonian border guards to pinpoint their position. Now was the time for the Ishvalans to exact their revenge on these conniving Aerugonians.
The volley of gunfire threw the border guards into a state of panic. The Aerugonians couldn’t tell what was going on as the sun was to the backs of the Ishvalans. They couldn’t tell how many were firing or even that they were Ishvalans. Surprisingly, none of them were harmed.
“Dammit!” One of Saladin’s men cursed. “I haven’t hit a single one.”
“Then man the mortars if your aim’s that bad!” Saladin bellowed.
The soldiers fed a round into the mortar. When it landed, the mortar round didn’t explode. “Must have been a dud,” he said. He fed another round into the mortar and, again, the round landed without detonating. He fed a third round into the mortar and, still, the round didn’t explode upon impact. “Saladin, these must be dummy rounds.”
“Colonel Doe is on our side. No way in hell would he leave us hanging.”
“But he did,” said a third man. He held up one of the rifle cartridges and squeezed the bullet between his fingers. It bent in and then crumbled. “These bullets are all hollowed out. And whatever they’re made of is so brittle it probably disintegrates before leaving the barrel. He must have done this with alchemy.”
“That bastard!” Saladin yelled. “He tricked us!” Just then, a shot narrowly missed his head and knocked a chunk off the rock formation he was standing beside. The border guards had called for reinforcements. An envoy of trucks filled with soldiers were heading for the gate. The Ishvalans had no other choice but to retreat.
The battle did not go unnoticed. Just a few miles away was the Amestrian southern border guard conducting training exercises.
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“I hope their performance is up to your standards, sir,” Wind Racer said to Major General Apache. The troops had just finished the first mock engagement and were standing in formation waiting their next orders.
“I’m quite pleased with the way you handle your troops,” General Apache replied. “However, you’re too hasty when it comes to battle. In fact, I saw you checking your pocket watch through the entire exercise.”
“I was timing the troops. I wouldn’t want there to be a slow response should we ever face an incursion from the south.”
“Fast isn’t always good. A fruitful strategy is one that is tempered with patience. Don’t worry about it, Major General. We still have a few months to work on it before I leave.” Just as the sun rose above the horizon, the faint sound of gunfire could be heard.
“Did that come from Aerugo?” General Apache said.
“Just to be on the safe side,” said Wind Racer. “Men, we’re going to live ammo.” Then, a young recruit barged in.
“Major General Sinclair, sir,” he said while panting for air, “the Aerugonians crossed the border and are firing on our civilians.”
“Where did you get this information from, private?
“Machine Gun Nest E-14 sighted the Aerugonian on our side of the border gunning down unarmed Ishvalans.”
“Looks like you’ll get to prove your metal after all,” General Apache said to Wind Racer.
“Gladly sir,” said Wind Racer. “Remember what I told you about being prepared. Well guest what? The Aerugonian army has crossed the Amestrian border. Discard your blank ammo. We won’t need it where we’re going.”
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Fuehrer Mustang listlessly flipped through the paperwork piling up on his desk. Riza insisted on returning to duty when they had their talk. However, Roy thought Riza could use a few more days to think things through. Mustang assigned Jean Havoc to her duties, despite Riza’s objections that Havoc was too easily distracted to be an effective bodyguard.
Even though the threat posed by Bradley and the Homunculi was over, his relationship with Riza didn’t change. Mustang wondered if he was afraid of driving Riza away or that he would be out of line to ask Riza to throw away her military career to be just another homebody. No, Mustang realized he took this long to tell Riza his feelings because he felt comfortable with the status quo. There was no risk involved, no awkward heart-to-heart. As long as Riza was at his side, it didn’t matter if the relationship was professional or romantic. Roy was jarred from his meditation when a hand with the stench of tobacco smoke slapped a file on his desk.
“What the hell is this about, Havoc?” Mustang said with a bit of annoyance in his voice.
“Just wanted to get your mind off of whatever it is that got you down in the dumps, sir” Havoc grinned mischievously.
“You’re too kind, Lieutenant,” said Mustang sarcastically.
“You told me not to ask about that ‘thing’,” said Havoc, “but that doesn’t mean I can’t give you something else to think about.”
“And this is?”
“We have foreign bodies snooping around.” Havoc had a lecherous look on his face. “And it’s the type of body I wouldn’t mind invading.” He chuckled wickedly.
“What the hell are you talking about?” Mustang flipped through the files. “Oh now I get it.”
“She’s a real hottie, isn’t she?” Havoc pointed to the black-and-white picture of a rather exquisite example of womanhood. A statuesque woman with an hourglass figure and ample bosoms sporting an elegant white gown, a tiara and necklace each with a single gem in the center, and flowing waist-length hair.
“She calls herself Miss Celestia, and she’s been dropping in and out of Amestris over the last few months. Somehow, she managed to talk the immigration office into issuing her an emergency visa.
“According to this report, Miss Celestia cashed in a hundred million centz in precious gems.” Roy flipped through some more pages.
“She’s hot and loaded.” Havoc was almost drooling on the floor at the thought of indulging both is his lust and greed.
“I’m more concerned about the influence pedaling. According this report, this Miss Celestia made millions in campaign contributions to Parliament members, and that Amestris is just one of the countries she’s visited. For someone who’s made that big of a splash, there isn’t much in this report.”
“That’s the thing. It’s like she has a sixth sense and can tell when she’s being watched. Falman and Fury tried tailing her to her place, but she’s about as good as disappearing from plain sight as those guys from Xing. She even toyed with them and led them all over town on a wild goose chase. It ended at the dead end of some back alley, and she then left this.” Havoc handed Roy a business card for the White Rose Hotel and a post card with the words Better luck next time boys written on the back.
“So, she gave them the slip. I’d hate to cut Riza’s vacation short, but she may be the only one that can keep tabs on her.”
“Actually, Miss Celestia was here this morning asking for you.”
“Of course she was. Parliament is already in her pocket. Why not buy off the fuehrer as well?”
“You think she’s up to no good, sir?”
“Could be a foreign agency trying to undermine the government. Lord knows there’re a few countries that would take advantage of any perceived instability in the government, especially during the transition back to civilian. Or she may be a diamond merchant lobbying Parliament for some sweetheart deals from the government. Either way, we have to find what she’s up to. I’ll arrange a meeting with her.” Mustang noticed the lecherous look on Havoc’s face. “Not for that reason.”
“You’re no fun,” Havoc frowned.
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Shots traded back and forth between the Aerugonians and Wind Racer’s men. Explosions roared like thunderclaps in the storm of mortar rounds that left in its wake scores of dead soldiers on both sides. However, the Aerugonians were outnumbered and would give out long before the Amestrian forces did.
Wind Racer was directing the battle from the high ground with his communication officer manning the bulky shortwave receiver.
“Platoon 3-1, do not advance. It may seem like the enemy is in the right position for a strike, but I can see more from this vantage point than you. The enemy is not as vulnerable as they appear to be.”
An Amestrian jeep pulled next to Wind Racer. General Apache leaped out of the passenger seat and stormed his way to Wind Racer.
“What the hell is taking so long?”
“Beg your pardon, sir?” Wind Racer played dumb. “I’m not sure what you’re getting at? Perhaps we should speak in private.” Wind Racer and General Apache walked to a spot about sixty feet away. “Now, what seems to be the problem, sir?”
“The enemy forces consist of only one battalion. We greatly outnumber them. This battle should be over by now. Are you that timid in combat, Major General Sinclair? Because if you are, then I suggest that you step aside and let someone else take command. I want this battle finished before the Aerugonians have a chance to call for reinforcements.”
Wind Racer said as he took a red stone out of his pocket, “you misunderstand, sir. You see, I want the enemy to call for reinforcements. How else will I have an excuse to invade Aerugo? I mean, one battalion crossing our border just won’t do it.”
General Apache gnashed his teeth. “You have better be joking.”
“Oh it’s no joke, and neither is this.” Wind Racer slapped General Apache on shoulder. Red bolts of electricity emanated from the stone. Philosopher’s Stone transmuted a portion of General Apache’s brains and skull into a replica of a rifle bullet that left a perfectly straight line from Apache’s forehead to the center of his skull where the bullet was created. General Apache collapsed in Wind Racer’s arms. Blood poured from the transmuted wound. The communication officer and Apache’s personal driver ran to the old general’s aid.
“Sir, are you okay?” The driver cried out.
Wind Racer shook his head. “The Aerugonians must have a sharpshooter with them.” Wind Racer gently laid Apache’s body on the ground. “But don’t worry. We’ll make the Aerugonians pay dearly for their crime, and this battle is just the beginning.”
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Prince Claudio, the leader of the Principality of Aerugo, smiled confidently as he stared into the horizon from his palace window. He was a rather handsome fellow with thick brown hair groomed by the best barbers in Aerugo and with a face that bore neither wrinkles nor blemishes. The red tunic donned with medals and white overcoat further enhanced the persona of the handsome, regal prince that Claudio cultivated. His largest army, the Central Defense Force, was positioned just outside of Sans Rosa, Aerugo’s capital city. The army encampment was so large that it could easily be mistaken as a neighboring metropolis.
“Your majesty,” said an elderly gentlemen with a walrus beard and the uniform of a high-ranking officer, “are you sure the Central Defense Force will be enough? The Amestrian made it this far and did so in only a week’s time.”
“You need to pay more attention to the intel reports, General Giovanni. The overconfident fools sent only five divisions,” said Prince Claudio. “The CDF outnumbers them 3 to 1. Don’t worry at all, General. This battle will be over by sunset.”
“I’m aware of those intel reports. But they also said the Amestrians weren’t carrying artillery even though the entire 1st Army was wiped out by a heavy artillery strike.”
“Those big guns aren’t the easiest things in the world to lug around, which is why they won’t be a problem. Just as soon as they appear over the horizon, we’ll give the Amestrian a demonstration of our artillery, and then your infantry can have whatever’s left over.”
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Wind Racer stood in front of the formation of troops to give his pre-battle pep talk. “Today, we will plunge the dagger of justice into the heart of Aerugo. This has been a day that the victims of the Ishval Civil War, both Amestrian and Ishvalan, had waited for. These villains provided just enough support to the Ishvalans to drag the conflict out for years. Their perverse action was the catalyst for Presidential Decree 306-the Ishvalan extermination. Both Amestrians and Ishvalans were victims of Prince Claudio’s treachery. It is our obligation to avenge those poor souls.” Wind Racer turned his back to the soldiers and poured the Philosopher’s Stone, which was now in liquid form, into a notch etched in his transmutation gauntlet before slipping it on. The Stone solidified and appeared as a red gem. “Now, let us teach this treacherous lot that sins against the Amestris nation will never go unpunished!”
Wind Racer struck the ground. Red folks of lightning flowed from the gauntlet and encircled the soldiers. Heavy artillery railguns, by the dozens, sprung up. Each one was over a hundred feet in length and four feet in diameter. All of them were linked by heavy electrical cable to a central control box. Beside them were the kinetic energy projectiles and sabots. Each projectile was four feet long and one foot in diameter. Teams of six men lifted the projectile and sabot and loaded them into their assigned railgun.
“With our advanced artillery technology,” said Wind Racer, “we will decimate their forces while outside the reach of their weapons. Now, let justice reign!” Wind Racer placed the palm of his hand on the control box. The valley trembled with the sound of railguns firing simultaneously. The shells flew over the horizon and landed in the midst of the Central Defense Force. Over three thousand Aerugonians were slain in the first volley.
Wind Racer gave his men the hand signal to reload. When all of the heavy artillery railguns were reloaded, a second volley was launched. Again, Aerugonians by the thousands were killed. This process went on for two hours until a single open top limousine bearing the white flag drove up to the Amestrian position. Wind Racer gave the signal for the army to stand by. The limo parked about a hundred feet away from Wind Racer. Then, Prince Claudio climbed out of the passenger seat with arms raised high in the air. Wind Racer took great delight in seeing the downtrodden, humble expression on Prince Claudio’s face.
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“HE DID WHAT!” Roy Mustang yelled. Sergeant Major Kain Fuery, the one who had delivered the news of the invasion of Aerugo, flinched as Mustang slammed his fist into the table.
“They say the Aerugonians attacked first,” Fuery muttered.
“That’s no excuse! Lodestone’s job was to guard the border not annex an entire country.”
“But he didn’t annex all of Aerugo.”
“I stand corrected,” Mustang said sarcastically, “he only annexed half of it, Fuery. And he forced their crowned prince to sign over the captured territory in a treaty *he* wrote all on his own? Just who the hell does Lodestone thinks he is? The Fuehrer?!? He has no authority to write up a treaty.” Mustang glanced over the report. “According to the treaty, Aerugo has to publicly acknowledge its involvement in the Ishvalan civil war. At least they’re admitting to supplying the Ishvalans with weapons. Wait a second.” Mustang read a few more lines in the report. “You have some nerve don’t you, Lodestone.”
“What is it, sir?”
“You remember Corporal Eckhart-the man Envy framed for killing the Ishvalan child, the very murder that started the civil war? Well, according to Lodestone’s treaty, the Aerugonian government will accept responsible for the murder and will admit to promising Corporal Eckhart a fortune for turning the Ishvalans against Amestris.”
“But that’s not true. Eckhart was innocent. It was Envy. He took Eckhart’s form when he killed that child.”
“We know that, but the world doesn’t. We covered up the existence of Father and his homunculi because we didn’t believe the people could handle the truth, and now we’re stuck between ratting ourselves out or pretending to swallow Lodestone’s lie hook-line-and-sinker.”
“But why would he do this?”
“The bastard’s turned into a glory hound. He expects to come back to a hero’s welcome and probably another promotion. But the only thing he has to look forward to is a life sentence in the Central stockades.”
“What about the treaty?”
“I’m not above getting a little payback from Aerugo. The part about providing weapons to the Ishvalans is true, and a price has to be paid for that. I’ll give some of their territory back, but we’ll keep the rest as a reminder not to interfere in our internal matters. Fuery, send a message to Generals Hemtt and Stryker. Tell them to deploy their troops and to intercept the South Border Guard when they enter Amestris. General Sinclair has been stripped of his rank and that he is to be arrested immediately.”
“Anything else, sir.”
“No, that’s it, Fuery. Now, if you will excuse me, I have to make dinner plans with a foreign spy.”
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Mustang scanned the Blue Oyster for his guest. The clock just struck twelve, and the restaurant was packed full of customers getting their afternoon lunch. Just then, a waiter presented himself to Mustang.
“Fuehrer Mustang,” said the waiter, “may I escort you to your table? Your dinner date is waiting in the third private booth.”
“She’s not my dinner date. It’s strictly business.”
“I’m terribly sorry, Fuehrer Mustang. Forgive me for being presumptuous.”
“No big deal. Just lead the way.” The waiter weaved around the numerous tables and customers with Mustang in tow and stopped in front of a booth. The table inside was only large enough for two people to use. Mustang was beginning to see why the waiter thought he was on a date. The black-and-white photo didn’t do her justice. Miss Celestia was absolutely stunning. She appeared to be in her late 20’s or early 30’s. Her olive skin was as smooth and as free of the signs of aging as a new born’s. Her wavy platinum blonde hair came down to her waist and appeared to glisten with all of the colors of the rainbow when the light hits it at the right angle. She wore a long, flowing white gown, diamond-studded earrings and two pieces of jewelry, a gold tiara and necklace, studded with a single purple Amethyst in the center. Mustang couldn’t help but to wonder if she was real or someone’s dream come to life.
“Are you planning to catch flies in your mouth, Fuehrer?” The woman said playfully.
Mustang became mindful that he was gawking at her with his mouth hanging wide open. “No ma’am, I apologize.” Mustang said as he took his seat.
“Would you like anything to drink?” The waiter asked.
“This is a special occasion. How about a glass of Blanche 75,” Mustang replied.
“And how about you, ma’am?”
“The same as Fuehrer Mustang,” said Celestia. “I always like trying something new.”
“Just bring the bottle on ice,” said Mustang. “I’ll take the rest home with me.”
“Very well, sir,” said the waiter. “Though we serve lunch until 2, the items on the dinner menu are available during all business hours. Take all the time you need to decide on your order.”
“So, how should I address you?”
“You may call me Miss Celestia.”
“Is ‘Celestia’ your first name or surname?”
“Yes.”
Mustang chuckled at Celestia’s evasive answer. “Being enigmatic?”
“I’d hope a bit of mystery would cause you to be endearing towards me,” Celestia said slyly.
Mustang started to see why Miss Celestia got as far as she did with the parliamentary. Not only was she attractive but she also had a quick wit to go with her beauty. Celestia was definitely charismatic enough to get what she wanted and suave enough to hide her intentions, but Mustang wasn’t exactly the type to lose his common sense to a pretty face and figure.
“It did a little,” Mustang lied with a fake smile on his face. He decided to play along a bit. “So, what brings you to Amestris?”
“Some minor business meetings, that’s all,” Celestia replied.
“I wouldn’t call secret meetings with top members of Parliament ‘minor’, Miss Celestia.”
“If I recall correctly, your top members of Parliament meet with silent film stars all the time. I don’t see why my meetings would be any different.”
“There is a difference. They’re celebrities with name recognition and politicians try to win them over in order to gain the support of their fans. It’s shallow, I know. You, on the other hand, dropped out of nowhere about three months ago with probably the largest horde of precious gems to grace this country outside of transmuted counterfeits and then you donated millions in campaign contributions. It’s not exactly the same as a celebrity photo ops.”
For a split second, Celestia frowned before she managed to force a congenial smile back on her face. “And how did you find out about my dealings with Parliament, unless the military is spying on the civilian government? Are those so-called democratic reforms a sham? There’s only so much you could have gain from the donation disclosure laws.”
“You made too big of a splash not to go unnoticed, Miss Celestia. Large currency exchanges alone are enough, especially in precious gems.”
Just then, the waiter placed a bottle of red wine in a bowl full of ice in the middle of the table and two champion glasses in front of Mustang and Celestia. “Here is your vintage 1875 Blanche. Have you decided on your order?”
“I’ll have the soup of the day,” said Mustang.
“And you, ma’am?” The waiter asked Celestia.
“I’ll have the asparagus salad. Make absolutely sure the kitchen doesn’t add any meat to it.”
The waiter jotted down the order and left.
“I apologize for giving you the third degree,” said Mustang as he poured wine into his and Celestia’s glass. “My occupation has made me rather cynical about people.”
“I know how you feel. I don’t put as much stock in humanity as I used to.”
“How’s the wine?”
“It’s delightful.”
“I’ll buy you a bottle to take back home with you.”
“Why thank you, Fuehrer Mustang.”
“So, tell me, do you like Amestris?” Mustang filled Celestia’s half-empty champagne glass with a little extra wine.
“I do. I’ve visited the countryside, and it’s almost a spitting image of my homeland. Even your desert is very picturesque, not unlike ours.”
That takes that frozen wasteland Drachma off the list, thought Mustang. “I’m glad to hear,” said Mustang as he poured another serving of wine into Celestia’s glass while only taking small sips from his. “Though sometimes, I wish we bordered the ocean. I’ve never had the pleasure of watching the sun set from the beach. It would nice to see it once in my life. You understand, right?”
Celestia just shook her head. “I’m a little insulted. You’ve made me feel a bit unwanted.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Most young stallions that try to get me tipsy with wine are after something a bit more intimate than information.” Celestia gulped down her entire glass and held it out for a refill daring to play Mustang’s little game. “Let me guess-the Parliament members won’t tell you anything about me. Not that it matters. They don’t know that much to begin with.”
“All pretenses aside: when foreigners drop in unannounced and without proper passports, they’re imprisoned and eventually deported. But between your wealth and charm, you’ve managed to convince the most influential members of Parliament to issue you an emergency visa. No questions asked, not even your nationality.”
“The Emperor of Xing was permitted to stay in your country without a passport, and he’s just one of twenty-six princes in the royal family,” Celestia retorted.
“Well, that situation was rather complicated. And I don’t think you could compare yourself to the royal family of Xing, unless you happen to be royalty yourself.”
“How transparent your leading questions are! But yes, I am of noble birth.”
“So foreign nobles have nothing better to do than to pop in and out of Central and toss around money like some industrialist vying for a military contract.” Mustang straightened up in his chair and look sternly at Celestia. “I’ve learned to hold my nose and tolerate the time-honored tradition of special interest lobbying, but I’ll be damned if I put up with influence peddling from a foreign power. I want answer. What are you after?”
“You said it yourself-answers. Where I come from, answers are given to me freely. I learned to hold *my* nose and tolerate having to pay for something I would, otherwise, have only to ask for in my homeland.”
“And where is this homeland of yours?”
“It’s confidential.”
“It won’t be if I revoke your visa and have you sent back.”
Celestia let out an uproarious chuckle.
“I wouldn’t laugh if I was you,” said Mustang with a bit of a sneer. “Your money and looks won’t get you far with me.”
Celestia smiled seductively. “Why thank you for the backhanded compliment. I’m glad you like it. I put on this look just for you.”
Mustang glared at Celestia. “I’m not in the mood for jokes. What are you here for? Tell me or so help me I’ll have you deported in leg irons.”
Celestia looked to the side. “I heard you had a major border skirmish with Aerugo and that you’ve taken over a portion of their land. Is it payback for giving arms to the Ishvalians or are you just looking for...more breathing room?”
Mustang took a deep breath and sighed. Celestia inadvertently reminded Mustang of the folly that was Lodestone’s promotion to commander of the South Border Guard. Then it dawned on him what Celestia was up to.
“And what if we were expanding our territory,” he smiled devilishly at her. “What is it to you? Afraid we’ll invade your country next?”
Celestia’s angelic features were distorted by a rage that was simmering just below the surface. “Your kind hasn’t change. Not in a thousand years.”
“Amestris is only four hundred years old. A far cry from a millennium”
“I mean human nature.”
“I finally figured out what you’re up to. You’re trying to determine whether or not Amestris will annex more territory.”
“‘Annex’. What a bland, non-descriptive term for an act that cost the lives of thousands before their time.”
“What you’ve done here borders on spying. I should have you behind bars and interrogated, but I’ll be courteous just this once. Your visa is hereby revoked. Royalty or not, if you’re caught on Amestris soil after your forty-eight hour grace period has ended, you’ll spend the rest of your life in Central Prison. Do I make myself clear?”
“Perfectly,” Celestia said with a scowl on her face.
“You must be of nobility-you’re not used to being told ‘no’ are you?” Mustang smirked. It was then Celestia did the most peculiar thing. She pawed her knuckled over the top of the table while snorting air from her nostrils and then held her balled-up fist downward at an angle. It was unsettling enough to make Mustang inch back his chair.
Celestia noticed Mustang’s apprehension. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and then smiled. “If that’s the way you want it, I’ll leave your country. By the way,” she said as she grabbed the bottle of wine, “I’ll take you up on your offer.” Celestia hummed a tune that sounded not unlike a nursery rhyme as she exited the Blue Oyster with Mustang’s bottle of Blanche 75.
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Wind Racer was in his tent sampling the libations confiscated from some of the Aerugonian wineries that his army stumbled upon. The alcohol and the flickering glow of his kerosene lantern hanging from the support beam placed Wind Racer at ease.
“Sir, Prince Claudio has requested the release of the captured Aerugo soldiers,” Colonel Claymore said as he entered Wind Racer’s tent.
“Did you tell him about the cholera outbreak?”
“He insisted that his doctors would be better suited to treat his men.”
“I’d hate to get shortchanged because Claudio is bitching about his soldiers,” Wind Racer said. “Speaking of which, has my little April been giving the POWs her loving touch?”
“Indeed she has.” Colonel Claymore took a Philosopher’s Stone, much larger than the piece Wind Racer used in the bombardment of Sans Rosa, and handed it to Wind Racer.
“Just in the nick of time. My old stone was almost depleted.” Wind Racer placed the new, larger Philosopher’s Stone in his pocket. “Tell April to ‘treat’ about a thousand more POWs for cholera. Then, we’ll release the rest. And make sure they’re all from the same quarantine tents. I don’t want witnesses.”
“I’ll keep an eye on the ditzy bitch.”
“Good. Our reporter friend should have leaked Mustang’s dirty little secret to the public by now. And then, the Amestris military can choose between me, the war hero who uncovered Aerugo’s evil plot against Amestris or our masochist fuehrer who’s all too willing to sell out his own men for the sake of ‘democracy’. And because I’m offering Aerugo as a scapegoat for the Ishvalan genocide, I’ll be soothing the guilty conscious of the nation and shifting the anger of the Ishvalans away from us and towards this country. I’ll win the support of the people and the military away from Mustang.”
“You’ll be one helluva fuehrer, sir.”
“I’m glad you see my potential, Claymore. It’s too bad others didn’t see things your way.”
Claymore placed a reassuring hand on Wind Racer’s shoulder. “You’ll prove Mustang wrong, sir.”
But that wasn’t the others that Wind Racer was referring to.
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Flashback
“You have the gall to come back here after quitting the royal guard?!?” Sky Ripper yelled. His son, Wind Racer, returned to their home in Cloudsdale without the silver armor that Sky Ripper gave him. “Do you know how much manure I went through just to give you a chance at becoming captain of the guard?”
“I don’t know, and I don’t care,” Wind Racer said defiantly.
“What’s the hay is going on in there?” Wind Dancer rushed into the living room where her husband and son were arguing. “Wind Racer, why are you back so soon?”
“Your good-for-son threw away his one chance at being captain of the royal guard. I bet Celestia already picked that unicorn for the position.”
“Good,” said Wind Racer, “he can be Celestia’s glorified gofer colt. I got better things to do than kiss her flank.”
Sky Ripper would no longer tolerate his son’s defiance. He turned and kicked Wind Racer in the side. Wind Dancer raced to her son’s side and held him to her chest. “You brute! You’d kick your own flesh and blood!”
“Did you know our son thinks he’s too good to be a palace guard? He deserves a good bucking for that!”
“Stop coddling me!” Wind Racer said as he shoved Wind Dancer away.
“Don’t you dare shove your mother!” Sky Ripper bellowed.
“You better worry about yourself, old stallion.” Wind Racer lunged at Sky Ripper. Wind Dancer watched helplessly as her husband and son slam their hooves into each other. In the end, youth triumphed over experience. Sky Ripper lay on the clouds bruised up and bleeding. Wind Racer was bruised up as well but not as badly as Sky Ripper.
“I’m done taking orders from you. I’m not living in your shadow anymore.” Wind Racer flew out the door.
While he was still on his side, Sky Ripper leaned his head up and shouted at his son. “Go ahead and leave, but don’t think I’ll take you back! And you will come crawling back! I know you all too well, you good-for-nothing!”
End of Flashback
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Tomorrow was the end of Riza’s extended vacation, and she was at home getting her gear ready. She just finished polishing her boots and had planned to spend the rest of the morning target practicing. Just then, her phone rang. She rushed over and answered the call.
“Hello?” It was April calling from the other end.
“Riza?”
“April, where are you calling from?”
“From Fort Abrams. Douglas and I just got back from Aerugo.”
“You have to get out of there. General Sinclair is a wanted man. Things will get ugly for you if you don’t.”
“Riza, I’m not in any danger. It’s the other way around. Tell Roy to step down as fuehrer and both of you run as far away from Amestris as you can.”
“What are you talking about?”
“If you don’t Douglas will...” And then, the call came to an abrupt end.
On the other end of the line, April was the floor with a busted lift. Standing over her was Wind Racer.
“What the hell did you think you were doing!”
“I was just telling Riza to get Roy to step down,” April cried. “I swear I would never betray you.”
“You moron!” Wind Racer picked April up by her hair. “You could get me killed.”
“I’m sorry I swear.”
“‘I’m sorry I swear’,” Wind Racer mocked. “Sorry won’t bring me back to life if Mustang...you know what April. It doesn’t matter anyway. He’s too late to stop me.” Wind Racer backhanded April again. “Now get out of my sight!”
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Mustang was feeling uneasy after returning from the Blue Oyster, but it wasn’t Miss Celestia that was troubling him. That afternoon was filled with angry glares coming from his soldiers. He was getting the evil eye from buck privates to colonels.
Mustang was greeted by Fuery, Havoc, Falman, Armstrong, Brenda, and Hawkeye at the door leading to his office. All of them were looking down and away from Mustang.
“You’re looking rather cheerful today,” Mustang wisecracked.
“Sir, please don’t joke,” said Hawkeye.
“How about letting me in on the sad story?”
“You don’t know, sir?”
“No, I don’t, Lieutenant. Fill me in.”
“It’s been all over the papers. It even made front page. Some reporter got their hands on the secret letters you sent to the heads of Parliament about the war crime tribunals.” Riza then looked Mustang in the eyes. “The military thinks you betrayed them.”
“Anyone has a newspaper?” Mustang asked. Breda handed his copy. It was, as Riza said, on the front page:
FUEHRER CONFESSES TO WAR CRIMES.
“It’s been taken completely out of context. The wording’s been edited to make it sound as though the entire military would be put on trial.” Mustang balled the paper and tossed it aside. “Who was it? Which member of Parliament is responsible for this?”
“I’ve spoken with each of them,” said Armstrong, “and none of them would take responsibility.”
“It’s because they’re not responsible for the leak,” said Hawkeye. “I’m certain of it.”
“And how would you know this?”
“April Ferguson called me earlier. She said that I should convince you to step down as fuehrer. And then the signal was cut off. She helped me deliver the letters back when she was a state alchemist.”
“I remember now. Red Lightning told me she lost one of the copies. She was doing KP for a week for that screw up, but it wasn’t an accident, was it?” Mustang punched the door. “He set me up. Lodestone set me up from the beginning, and Red Lightning was doing his dirty work since day one. How could I be so clueless?”
“Don’t beat yourself up over it, sir,” said Armstrong. “He deceived me as well with his false promises of using alchemy to help treat human chimeras.”
“No, there’s no excuse for this, Armstrong,” said Mustang. “I should have never promoted him to general. I should have ordered a full autopsy on Fuehrer Grumman’s body. I’ll have Doctor Knox perform one on General Apache once his body is shipped back to Central, though it won’t matter either way. Lodestone won’t be a problem for much longer once he’s brought back in chains.” The others looked down at the same time. “Now what?”
“Sir, Brigadier General Stryker and Brigadier General Hemtt are refusing to apprehend Major General Sinclair,” said Riza. “They’re questioning your status as fuehrer.”
“Where’s Lodestone’s position?”
“Last reported, seven divisions of the South Border Guard have rendezvoused with most of the Southeast and one-third of the Southwest corps and were last seen at South City heading north towards Central.”
“So Hemtt and Stryker joined up with Lodestone?”
“But won’t that leave our southern border unguarded?” Havoc asked.
“The annexed territory from Aerugo is acting as a buffer zone,” said Breda. “He’s got enough breathing space between Fort Abrams and what’s left of Aerugo to spare the manpower. It’s probably why he invaded.
“And that’s assuming Prince Claudio can muster up enough guts to even try,” said Mustang. “After that beating, I doubt he would dream of staging a counter attack even if Fort Abrams was deserted. I haven’t given the bastard his due credit. Lodestone had this planned out from the start. Round up as many loyal men as you can find. Three days from now, Lodestone’s troops should make it to Central. Make plans to evacuate the city. I don’t want any civilian casualties.”
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April was in Wind Racer’s private bathroom tending to the wounds she received at his hand. Her skin was wrinkled after spending an hour in the tub crying. April was dressed in the white bathrobe Wind Racer gave her for her birthday. The cotton ball soaked in rubbing alcohol burned when she pressed it against her bloodied lip. She was about to apply the ice pack to her black and blue eye when Wind Racer barged in.
“Douglas,” April said as she flinched, “I was just...”
“Shhh. Don’t say another word.” Wind Racer took out his Philosopher’s Stone.
“Douglas, you shouldn’t use up your stone just for me.”
“But I wouldn’t have it if wasn’t for you.” The forks of red lightning danced around April. Instantly, the swelling and black and blue skin around her eye disappeared. The cuts on her mouth mended back together. All evidence of Wind Racer’s abuse was erased. “I’m sorry for being so harsh on you, but it was for your own good. What you’re done for me is a capital offense. If I’m defeated, they’ll kill you, and I can’t bear the thought of them hurting you.”
April’s spirits were lifted up. Riza was wrong about Douglas. She knew she could change him into the man she dreamed of spending the rest of her life with.
“There’s no risk too great that I won’t take for you,” April said lovingly. She unbuttoned Wind Racer’s coat. Her hands slipped beneath Wind Racer’s undershirt caressing his bare chest as her lips pressed up against his.
“I know you would, my little April.” Wind Racer untied April’s bathrobe letting it fall to the floor...
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Two days later
“I can’t believe Lieutenant Flint dragged me all the way out to the Central Depot in the middle of the night and not show up. I’m kicking his ass the next time I see him.” It was a clear, but moonless night, and Mustang was leaving a warehouse with his chauffeur, a plump woman in her late forties with shoulder-length salt-and-pepper hair. When they reached the presidential limo, she first unlocked the passenger door for Mustang and then her own.
“Oh dear.”
“What’s wrong Warrant Officer?”
“I thought I locked the door before leaving.”
Mustang snatched her away
“Sir, what are you...”
“You did lock the door,” said Mustang as he put some distance between them and the limo. “Someone broke in and rigged the ignition switch with an explosive.” Just then, bullets wisped by their heads. Mustang clamped his hands together and slamming them against the ground. A wall transmuted between them and the shooter. After several fruitless attempts at shooting through the wall, the assassin stopped firing.
“Do you think he gave up, sir?” The chauffeur asked.
“Don’t be impatient." Mustang rebuked.
Just then, the assassin began taking aim at the limo. Mustang could tell he was firing from the prone position since the shots were coming in from a low angle and beneath the limo. Realizing the assassin was trying set off the explosives hidden under the limo with a well-placed shot, Mustang transmuted an addition section of wall this time between him and his driver and the limo. Suddenly, the limo exploded. The fireball of ignited gasoline lit up the Central Command in a reddish-yellow glow. The transmuted wall was partially cracked but otherwise did its job and protected Mustang and his chauffeur from the shockwave and shrapnel.
“Stay here, Sergeant.”
“Yes sir.”
Mustang slipped on his ignition globes and, with a snap of his fingers, ignited the air. The surrounding area was briefly illuminated. About a hundred feet away, in the space between the warehouse and fencing, was the assassin. Mustang snapped his fingers again and a wall of fire boxed him in.
“Drop your weapon and hands up or else I’ll burn off your flesh!” Mustang called out.
The assassin got off the ground with his arms raised in the air.
“Now kick your weapon out of reach!”
The assassin kicked the rifle away from him. Mustang was in shock when he was close enough to see the assassin’s face.
“Lieutenant Flint!” Mustang blurted out.
“It’s my way of saying ‘thank you’ for stabbing us in the back.”
Just then, the security guard came out.
“What took you so long?” Mustang snapped.
“I’m sorry sir, but Lieutenant Flint sent me on an errand.”
“Now that you’re here, make yourself useful and arrest Lieutenant Flint. He tried to assassinate me.”
“Private,” Lieutenant Flint said, “this man is selling us out to the crooked politicians. He wants to put us on trial for following the orders that *they* gave us.”
“That’s a lie!” Mustang shouted. “Everything in that letter was taken out of context. Private, don’t pay him any mind.”
“Yes private,” Lieutenant Flint mocked, “follow your orders and get rewarded with a court-martial.”
“Shut up! I've heard of your crap. Private, escort Lieutenant Flint to the brig immediately.”
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“What’s the damage, Riza?” Mustang asked. Morale was at a low point for Central Command. There wasn’t a unit that didn’t have its share of deserters. When news of Fuehrer Mustang’s ‘betrayal’ was made public, the trust between soldiers and command eroded and so did Central Command’s troop numbers.
“Sir, Central Command has 22,263 enlisted and 859 officers accounted for.”
“Down by eleven thousand. Is there anything else you wish to share with me, Lieutenant?” Mustang could see the hesitation in Riza’s eyes.
“Lieutenant General Airacomet has declared his support for Major General Sinclair. Current estimates place the coup at 135,000 troops, though that estimate may be too high depending on how many of their troops that are still loyal to you.”
“I wouldn’t count on that number being much lower. A third of the men under my direct command have gone AWOL. The percentages for the rest of the military would be worse.”
“Sir, please don’t be discouraged.”
Mustang closed his eyes and shook his head. “Thanks for cheering me on, Riza, but we have to face the facts.”
“Sir, you...”
“Where are Lieutenant Flint and that MP?”
“Their whereabouts are still unknown, sir.”
“So, would it be presumption of me to assume Lieutenant Flint got to the MP?”
“No, it wouldn’t be, sir?”
“Now do you understand the gravity of the situation? On paper, we’re down by eleven thousand men, but out of the remaining twenty-three thousand, how many are really loyal? Hawkeye, Havoc, Breda, Falman, Armstrong, Fuery, front and center,” Mustang ordered. His inner circle gathered in front of the formation waiting for Mustang to tell them what his next move would be.
“Men,” said Mustang addressing the few remaining rank-and-file soldiers loyal to him, “listen up. These may be the last orders I will be issuing.” He pointed to Armstrong. “I’m hereby promoting Major Louis Armstrong to Brigadier General. Sometime tomorrow, your new fuehrer, Major General Sinclair, will be in Central. You will acknowledge his authority as supreme commander of the military. Follow him with the same devotion as you did me.”
“Sir, you can’t,” Riza pleaded
“Please sir, reconsider,” said Armstrong.
“This isn’t a request. Your duty, Brigadier General Armstrong, is to negotiate a peaceful surrender with Lodestone’s forces.”
“How could you give up so easily, Roy?” Havoc asked.
“You’d rather if I lead my men into a massacre!” Mustang yelled. “What good is being fuehrer if I throw away their lives in a battle that can’t be won or rip this country apart in a civil war if by some miracle we came out as the victors? I know we fought together in the first coup nearly two years ago, but this situation is different.” Roy then whispered softly to them. “Lodestone isn’t Father. He wants Amestris to rule over, not to destroy. Accept him as fuehrer...for now. We can’t beat him in a frontal assault. Lodestone has to be beaten at his own game. How was Lodestone able to take on the entire Aerugo military with just the South Border Patrol and do so in a matter of days? Think about it.”
“What are you getting at, sir?” Armstrong asked.
“All I’m saying is that a second-rate alchemist like Lodestone might have gotten an edge from a certain red stone.”
“The Philosopher’s Stone?!? But how?”
“That’s what I have to find out. But once I do, Lodestone’s supporters should turn against him. Fuehrer Grumman made sure the military brass was filled with men who could be trusted with the knowledge of the existence of the Philosopher’s Stone and not use it for their own power. If they’re the sort of men Grumman was looking for, they’ll turn on Lodestone for making a Philosopher’s Stone. Hawkeye will be going into hiding with me. The rest of you will wait here for Lodestone. I’ll contact you when I get the opportunity. Understood?”
“Yes sir,” they said in unison.
“Don’t disgrace me by defying our new fuehrer,” Mustang said out loud in order to maintain appearances. “Set an example for these men.”
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The next day
The Parliament floor was packed full, not just with elected officials but also with armed soldiers. The parliamentarians shivered in fear as the soldiers pointed their rifles at them, though their spiteful glares alone were enough to make them sweat beads.
The prime minister, the head of Parliament, took the podium. He was an obese man with thin black hair slicked back. His attire consisted of a three piece suit, a bow tie, and a monocle. Standing next to him was Wind Racer. The prime minister banged the gavel and called Parliament into session.
“The first order of business is Parliament Resolution Number 1984-the bill recognizing Major General Douglas Sinclair as our new fuehrer. Parliament and the former fuehrer Roy Mustang plotted against our servicemen and conspired to wrongfully court-martial our soldiers for actions they took at the behest of Parliament. This left the military no other choice but to assume control over Amestris. The military has chosen Major General Sinclair to become the new fuehrer and to represent their interests. Major General Sinclair is a decorated veteran of the Ishval Civil War, a certified state alchemist, and the one responsible for uncovering the full extent of Aerugo’s treachery against our nation. I urge Parliament to also grant absolute veto power to the fuehrer. No decision from Parliament may become law without his approval. Those who support the measure, say ‘aye’.”
The floor of parliament echoed with the chorus of aye’s.
“Those opposed to the measure, say ‘neigh’.”
“Neigh,” said one defiant official. She was one of the youngest parliamentarians elected in this term. The young lady was just in her thirties. She wore an old-fashion ankle-length dress and styled her brown hair in a bun. “You cowards! How could you let this thug in a uniform bully you? The will of the people will once again be crushed under the boot of the military, and you’re letting it happen just to save your necks!” The two soldiers nearest to her dragged her outside. A minute later, a shot rang out. One parliamentarian fainted when he heard the shot.
“Is there anyone else opposed to the measure?” The room was in complete silence.
“The aye’s have it,” the prime minister said as he glanced back at Wind Racer. Resolution 1984 has passed. “Now, let’s give a round of applauds to Fuehrer Sinclair.” The parliament members unenthusiastically clapped while jubilation broke out amongst the soldiers.
Wind Racer whispered into the ear of the prime minister. “You did a good job saying your lines. You get to live for another day, prime minister.”
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Wind Racer beamed with pride at the sight of his new office. This was the very seat of power in Amestris. This was, in a sense, *his* throne room. He frowned upon seeing Mustang’s personal items-his medals, the pictures of him and his subordinates as well as some snot-nosed kid and a guy in a suit of armor, and Mustang’s state alchemist certificate framed on the wall. Standing to Wind Racer’s side was Colonel Claymore.
“So, what’s your plan for Mustang’s trained monkeys?” Claymore asked as he pointed to a group picture of Hawkeye, Havoc, Armstrong, Falman, Breda, and Fuery.
“So long as Mustang and his guard dog Riza Hawkeye are on the loose, there’s a threat to my power, which is why I’m keeping them under close watch. They’ll stay in the military. I’ll even let Armstrong keep his last minute promotion.”
“But why? They’re Mustang’s men. They’re loyal to him and not you.”
“And when Mustang comes back to stir up trouble, they’ll be the first to know. And that’s why I want them under my thumb. Mustang is too attached to his little niche to seek help elsewhere. If I stuffed them in the stockades now, Mustang would find allies that I don’t know about. Also, I have to keep up appearances. Some of the soldiers might have second thoughts about siding with me if I arrest Mustang’s men out of the blue. No, I need a valid reason, and treason against the current fuehrer for the sake of the previously disposed fuehrer is the excuse I can use to put them on trial and have them executed.” Sinclair then took out his Philosopher’s Stone. “And if Mustang tries to face me directly, he’ll have this to deal with.”
“I guess that’s why you’re fuehrer and I’m not.”
“Don’t sweat it, Phil. You’ll be rewarded for your service.”
“Just a promotion. I like being in artillery.”
“So be it. You can your very own artillery division, Brigadier General.”
“I like the sound of that. It’s almost as sweet as Fuehrer Sinclair.”
“Damn straight,” said Sinclair as he gripped his Philosopher’s Stone. Father, you said I wouldn’t amount to anything. You said the best I could hope for is to be Celestia’s little errand colt. But I’m the leader of an entire nation. And with this Philosopher’s Stone, I am beyond death. Father, I’ve become Celestia’s equal.
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"Are you sure you wouldn't want to meet the new fuehrer?" An elderly man asked Miss Celestia. They were taking a late night stroll in front of the White Rose Hotel. Miss Celestia was dressed the same attire that she wore at her meeting with Mustang. The elderly man, who had white bushy hair and eyebrows and was a half-head shorter than Celestia, wore a brown three-piece suit.
Miss Celestia looked down and sighed. "No, I'm afraid not, Mr. Procter."
"You don't like Central City Miss Celestia?" Mr. Proctor asked.
"That's not it at all. I wouldn't speak ill of it, especially in front of its mayor. It's this last minute turn of events in your country's politics that has left me rather discouraged. And...I'm homesick."
"I'm sure you'd change your mind if you met Fuehrer Sinclair."
Miss Celestia shook her head. "There's nothing to be gained by talking with another fuehrer. Good bye, Mr. Procter. I'm afraid you won't see me again." Miss Celestia ducked into a back alley and vanished in the darkness.
“Wait! Come back!” Mr. Proctor cried out. When he reached the other end of the alley, there was no sign of Miss Celestia.
On the roof of the White Rose Hotel was Miss Celestia in her true form, an alicorn princess. She stared down at the old man still combing the streets for her. "It's the same sad song and dance. A thousand years and they're still warring against each other," Princess Celestia said regretfully. She unfolded her wings and flew south towards Equestria.
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I hope you enjoyed chapter 9 of Friendship is Magic, Damnation is Alchemy. The next chapter will cover Sinclair and his relationship with Fluttershy.
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I was actually looking for a crossover of full metal alchemist a hour ago, is this the destiny...?
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encrypted-tbn1.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcTQLSAqx83AHdupFRce3438HycgLnPhz7yhxMr4rHsfaLVLm0sKwg
FMA fic huh... I LOVE FMA CROSSOVERS! They embody loyalty, and not once do they ask for something! Oh brave FMA crossovers how we salute thee!
You get a like from me. :3
Yeah, this was fun for a while but you expect this to be believable?
That this abusive little guttersnipe actually got such a huge drop on Mustang and became Fuehrer?
I call bullshit.
Complete and utter shenanigans.
And no, I'm not saying the FMA characters are infallible.
Far from it, they've had their fuckups.
But this...this child is decades away from playing the game at an even keel with Mustang and the others.
Wasn't this on FanFiction.Net? It hasn't been updated in like forever. Will it be updated here?
2114932
I can't promise anything but I'll try to post another chapter over the next few weeks.
Oh man, this story is here now? SWEET!
2115999
Trying to be a helpful reviewer (Did I spell that right?).
Because the summaries (<--
) in this site are allowed to be longer than fanfiction.com, I think it would be better if the summary here were to be better written and longer. (This is coming from the guy/girl/tuna who's not sure of his/her/it's own spelling) 
2114529
Yeah, what this guy said. Except his description of the character left out petty, incompetent, naive, violent/rash, and unsubtle.
Warning: do not read the following rant. I only put it there because I wanted to get it out.
For one, he's obviously a completely incompetent moron {(a) not declaring his sentience in front of someone who seemed to be a sympathetic figure (b) "hurr durr, there's more to being a state alchemist than alchemy." No there isn't, you dumb[redacted], it's called state ALCHEMIST, not state over-glorified jock. How did he get in without decent alchemy, when he shouldn't have even been able to learn it in the first place? (c) Ponies are stupid seriously. Not one of them speaks out against an economy in which a cherry can be sold for 2 units of currency at the lowest, and can be sold into the double digits, yet pies only cost 5, and a bag of the stuff is enough to buy an ancient evil artefact that would risk the seller execution. Furthermore, they have an irrational fear of nature, and base their lives around superstition, etc etc}, also meaning that there's no way he should have been able to learn alchemy in the first place, due to a combination of ignorance, stupidity, and attitude {Seriously. I'd assume by only by now would he grasp the concept of there being 100s of elements, rather than just the traditional 4, and these ponies seem like moronic sticklers to stupid traditions, i.e. no magic winter wrap-up. Alchemy is serious business, and I highly doubt some wannabe brat could even begin to understand it, being too immersed in "magic" to understand any of it. Alchemy requires an innate understanding of chemistry, something it takes normal people multiple life times to do- It's. Not. Magic. You can't just use an array and expect it to work. And how the hell did he learn magnetic alchemy? State alchemists tend to encode their notes. In fact, how did he pull of the bullet hole thing either? The philosopher's stone gives more power, not more knowledge. And that's another [redacted] goddam thing!!! How the [redacted] did he learn about how to make 1? All info was destroyed and the amount of people that still know can be counted on one hand, none of which would divulge the information under any circumstances. Bullshit.} And how did he manage to usurp Mustang too? He would've been killed long ago, especially if he tried threatening the president. And why would a newspaper in a military-controlled state publish a story speaking out against Mustang, who is a 2-time recent war hero, unlike this other guy and his pathetic and petty, and by all means incompetent but with plot armour imposter. The military would've stop that publish, had it even been made, except it wouldn't have. And Mustang would just fight back, with more influence and media, as well as use the help of rival companies. And why the [redacted] would that [redacted] even get promoted? For one, he did nothing to deserve it, since being reinstated, and he didn't even belong in that sector. All he does is act all cool, meaning that even if he did get promoted, he shouldn't be put in such a position where his personality would interfere with work. Any royal guard training he might have had does him no good, since they're all incompetent buffoons that have their problems get solved by a group of friends from a backwater town, while they stand and act useless, just like Celestia. And speaking of Celestia, she is in no position to criticize anyone. Humans are still fighting each other, and are scum. But you know what? Ponies, despite their small population, are stealing buffalo territory for resources. And even though the humans fight, they know what they're doing is wrong, but they have to do it, for what they stand for. Ponies have not changed bad habits over 1000 years either- King Sombra enslaved his subjects, and ponies enslave other races. But nothing seems wrong about the current practice, because it only matters when it's done onto ponies. Furthermore, no offer of surrender was given to the changelings, they were just killed immediately, because ponies only see them as monsters. And they are so xenophobic that they run away screaming from their equivalent of a black person! This conceited and prejudiced view on species hierarchy disgusts me. Celestia is a hypocritical, conceited [redacted]. And I just love how she's criticizing a meritocratic system when her own country is run by an aristocratic system. And how she says it's bad for the government to monitor its citizens when her negligence has resulted in constant disaster, i.e evil artefacts being sold from a pawn shop. Again, Celestia is a hypocritical, conceited [redacted]. And why hasn't Sinclair just told the truth yet? Seriously, the more he lives his little fantasy life, the more people die.
BRO! YOU NEED TO UPDATE
2114529>>2164406
Yo, just wanted to reply to some of these.
This question of Mustang's competency and Wind Racer's incompetency was brought up. This came up before on ff.net. Wind Racer's alchemy skills are sub-par compared to Sinclair even before his encounter with Truth. However what he lacks in alchemy he makes up in charisma and leadership. If I didn't do a good job showing these attributes, I apologize. I would argue that the story implies he had those traits otherwise Wind Racer wouldn't have been able to win over both General Stryker and Hemtt. There's no rule that says the fuehrer has to be a good state alchemist or even a state alchemist (Grumman and Bradley are not alchemists). He only needs to lead and to win over the trust of his men. Also, Mustang was underestimating Wind Racer. He got complacent and thought he had no more major internal threats to deal with. Wind Racer caught Mustang off-guard. Otherwise, Roy would have put a stop to Wind Racer a long time ago.
Next is the question about alchemy skills. Wind Racer is someone who couldn't become a state alchemist at his current skill level. But then again, I doubt Father Cornello could either and he was making chimeras with his cheap imitation Philosopher's Stone and Wind Racer is better than Father Cornello and with a superior Philosopher's Stone (how he came by them will be covered later)
My ranking of alchemy skills are:
Anyone who's paid Truth's toll for knowledge (Ed, Al, Izumi Curtis, Roy Mustang, Sinclair) > April Ferguson > Sinclair before paying Truth's toll > Wind Racer > Father Cornello
I believe the Philosopher's Stone may actually impart knowledge of alchemy. Otherwise Father Cornello wouldn't be able to use it. Then again, I could be short-changing Father Cornello. But then again, Scar, an Ishvalan monk, could use his bother's brand of alchemy without formal training.
The next issue is Wind Racer getting away with publishing Roy's private letters. Had Wind Racer tried this on Fuehrer Bradley, yes, he and his reporter friend would have been executed. But restrictions on free speech was lifted under Fuehrer Grumman, and Mustang continued Grumman's policy.
Finally, there is the issue are ponies being unable to use alchemy from a lack of scientific knowledge. I'm sorry, but that goes against canon. They have party balloons filled with helium. That imply they have the means of tapping underground deposits of helium (produced by radioactive decay) and extracting it from the other deposits of gases like natural gas. They certainly understand electricity. They have hydroelectric dams. They have steam engines, which means they have an understanding of thermodynamics. They have photography and film. They're not that ignorant when it comes to science.
As for the pony economy, well...I won't try to defend that.
2248393
What did we say about reading my immature text-block?
2249812
I'm sorry but I couldn't resist.
2251492
I like this but the hinting of the humanity is terrible and everything about it is terrible kinda bothers me. Don't get me wrong, it's a nitpick, I just hope Celestia doesn't constantly think everything about humanity is terrible and evil and all about war.