if anyone were asked which organization that directly serves Central Command, the body that governs the great nation of Amestris, is of special note, no one would be at a loss for the answer.
It is the cluster of individuals who passed a certain demanding exam with their sharp wit. The ones who possess the strong sense of ethics and loyalty necessary to overcome strict psychological assessments. The ones who possess the exceptional ability to create complex transmutation arrays, then act with calm precision to transmute at a moment’s notice. They are the ones who must accomplish all of these things to achieve their rank.
With solemn miens, they conduct themselves with poise even while bearing a share of the country’s fate and are prepared to sacrifice their own lives in the line of duty.
Carrying silver pocket watches engraved with a hexagram and the president’s crest, they bear a tremendous responsibility. They are our country’s pride—they are the solitary and elite state alchemists …
“Wow.”
The sun climbed over the eastern horizon, announcing the coming of dawn. At that early hour, sitting in the hotel where he and his brother were staying, Alphonse couldn’t help reacting out loud to a column about state alchemists that he had been reading.
“Poised and elite? I guess some people actually think that,” he commented.
While many mocked state alchemists for being “dogs of the military” because of the extensive privileges that came with the title, the writer of this column was different. He seemed to genuinely respect them, though he also might have unrealistically idealized them.
“Alchemists aren’t all like that though,” Alphonse murmured, fully aware of the reality of things. He flipped to the next page.
“Hey, Al!” An obnoxiously loud voice shattered the quiet of the dining hall that had previously only been occupied by Alphonse and the cook preparing breakfast in the kitchen.
Night had barely come to an end, and the vast majority of the hotel guests were still asleep. Anyone awake at this hour who had common sense should have known to be considerate of the others around them. The willful violator of this common courtesy was none other than Edward Elric, a representative exception to the “poised and elite” state alchemists.
“Wait, Ed! Shh, shh!” Alphonse hastily pressed his finger to the mouth of his helmet while bobbing his head apologetically to the cook, who peered out from the kitchen, and the receptionist, who glanced over at them from the front desk.
Edward and Alphonse had been staying at this hotel, located in Central, for a while now. They’d been busy, between Edward visiting the Xerxes ruins and Alphonse having to deal with homunculi, among other things.
The night before had been a rare opportunity for both brothers to spend the evening in peace, so Alphonse had passed the entire night reading in the dining hall to allow his older brother to sleep. Winry, who had accompanied them to Central, was also likely fast asleep in her separate room.
Alphonse had planned on waking the two of them in about two more hours, but apparently Edward had awakened of his own accord and dashed over, making a racket as he came.
Without a care for the judgmental glares from those around them, Edward pulled out a chair, which issued a loud screech, and flopped down in front of Alphonse before thrusting a piece of paper in front of his younger brother.
“What do ya think of this?!”
Alphonse didn’t have a response on hand, considering his brother hadn’t given him any lead-up or warning. Alphonse accepted the document and sighed at his brother’s typical hastiness. Seemingly random characters were scrawled all over it, unheeding of the neat and orderly page lines. Whether the text spelled out real words was debatable.
“What language is this in?” Alphonse asked, turning the paper at an angle. Then he held it farther away from his face and tried his best to decipher it. Edward reached over, plucked the paper from his hands, and turned it upside down before returning it.
“My bad. It was flipped.”
That didn’t make the document much easier to read, but Alphonse was finally able to decipher the paper’s purpose from a single line buried in some crossed-out text.
“A plan to deal with Scar? You’ve already come up with something?” Alphonse confirmed.
“Yup! Jotted down a few ideas!” Edward smirked while crossing his legs and leaning back in his chair.
The two of them had decided the night before that their next course of action would be dealing with Scar. The plan was to expose themselves to Scar, who was targeting state alchemists, and to use the potential danger to themselves to lure out the homunculi, who wanted Edward alive. The flaw in their plan was figuring out how to actually find Scar, who could be anywhere. They’d left off last night without any good solutions to their dilemma.
“I woke up in the middle of the night and just kept brainstorming until morning.”
“Sounds like you. Still, don’t push yourself.”
Alphonse was relieved to hear that his brother had gotten some sleep at least. Edward had a bad habit of forgetting to both sleep and eat once his brain started going. Nevertheless, those bouts of concentration often led to amazing epiphanies, so Alphonse scanned Edward’s scribbles with anticipation.
“Huh, so you changed the premise of the plan itself. That’s something.”
After reading through the entire thing, Alphonse found himself impressed yet again. They’d agonized about how to find Scar wherever he might be hiding out in the city. The plan on the paper suggested the opposite tactic: instead of finding Scar themselves, they’d make the outlaw find them.
“Right?” Edward let out a pleased little laugh, stretching back in his chair.
“But,” Alphonse hesitated at that point. Flipping their original plan on its head was brilliant, but he was finding it difficult to simply agree to any of Edward’s plans as outlined on the paper:
1. Hand out flyers to publicize our profiles and current location.
2. Decorate a pushcart, then parade it around town while waving a huge flag.
3. Spread rumors throughout town. Example: A tall, dashing state alchemist by the name of Edward is nearby.
“I’ll ask just for the sake of it, but which plan do you want to go with?” Alphonse asked, hesitantly looking up from the page. Edward grinned, clearly having been waiting for his cue.
“This one, obviously!” Edward jabbed a finger at the paper. He was pointing to option three.
“I’m not surprised.” Alphonse heaved a heavy sigh that contrasted with Edward’s gleeful grin, then briskly shook his head. “If we spread a rumor that’s as obviously fake as this, Scar will probably think it’s a different person and won’t even engage. We’ll have to rule out the flyers, too, since there’s no way to be sure that Scar will actually read them.”
“Wait a second! What was that about it being ‘obviously fake’?!” Edward’s ears pricked up and he snarled. “What’s wrong with it? By definition, rumors don’t need to be true! What’s wrong with letting me dream a little, even if it’s only through rumors?!”
Edward was incorrigible. He had latched on to the thought and was banging his fists on the table like a child. Alphonse found it ironic in a sad sort of way that the magazine and the phrase “With solemn miens, they conduct themselves with poise” was right below his brother’s fists.
“You can dream, but you’ll get better results by drinking milk.”
“Fine, what about the second option? We’ll attract the attention of everyone in town, and Scar’ll definitely notice!” Ever fond of dramatics, Edward threw his support behind the next plan, but Alphonse once again shook his head.
“I think the military police would put an end to that before we find Scar.”
Alphonse imagined the scene: a pushcart all aglow with neon signs, his brother perched on top while enthusiastically waving a flag, himself pulling it, and everyone on the streets giving them a wide berth. He sighed. The flag would no doubt proclaim Meet the Elric Brothers!
If they acted like a pair of suspicious persons drawing the curious stares of everyone around them, no way would the military police leave them alone.
“Personally, I don’t want everyone associating my name with being a weirdo,” Alphonse said, ignoring Edward’s pout. He tapped on option number three. “I’m for this plan. But how about instead of lying, we—”
“It’s not a lie so long as I grow tall someday!”
“Sure. Moving on … If we’re going to spread rumors, it might as well be about something positive, don’t you think?”