《The Gunslinger Alchemist [Fullmetal Alchemist Fanfiction]》


 Chapter 1 - [The Gunslinger Alchemist]

    Lisberth, West Area


    May 5th, 1915


    In the darkened twilight of a town sitting on the fraught border between Amestris and Drachma, two military men sprinted after a middle-aged civilian who clasped a briefcase tightly to his chest. As the frightened civilian ran, documents marked with transmutation circles and ciphered lines of text fluttered out of his briefcase, and the two men chasing him slowed their pace to retrieve these haphazardly strewn papers.


    One of the two soldiers was a man named Simon Carlyle who had short black hair and severe green eyes. He wore the gray vest and beige overcoat of a travelling civilian, but the green dragon patch sewed to his vest marked him as a member of the Amestrian military. The gloves on his hands were inlaid with copper, and two circular depressions on the gloves spread across the width of his palm. Carlyle held a service revolver holstered at his hip, and his belt served as a bandolier holding several dozen pistol rounds. Slung diagonally across his shoulder was a bulky messenger bag that was held closed with several quick-release clasps and a thick sheet of leather.


    The other soldier was a man named Richard Hotchkiss. He wore the full uniform of the military, and his epaulettes marked him as a 1st lieutenant. Hotchkiss had dark skin, and he carried a saber at his hip. Going by his dark hair and facial features, it was clear he was from Aerugo to the south.


    As they ran, Simon Carlyle shouted to his partner as he grabbed a fluttering paper out of the air.


    "Grab the papers, Hotchkiss! We can''t afford to lose his research!"


    Carlyle looked down at the transmutation circle inscribed on the paper he held in his hand and blanched at its purpose. In the hands of a skilled alchemist, such a circle could be used to transmute the naturally occurring elements in dirt into a powerful explosive. Horrified, he realized that the paper he held in his hand was the research of the disgraced State Alchemist, Solf J. Kimblee.


    "Stop, fool!" Carlyle shouted at the top of his lungs. "Do you have any idea what you''re carrying!?"


    The civilian, a smuggler named Elias Miller, did not stop, and the confusion in the man''s eyes gave Carlyle the answer he needed. The man was no alchemist. If he were, he would not be so careless with such dangerous information.


    They chased Elias Miller as he ran out of central Lisberth. He fled toward the old fort west of the city that had been converted into a tourist''s attraction. The three men sprinted through the fort, dodging around tourists who had gathered to appreciate the ancient stone reminder of a time when Drachma maintained a military presence on Amestris'' western border.


    Tourists screamed and panicked when they saw the frantic chase unfold in front of them. Over the din of panicking civilians, Lieutenant Hotchkiss shouted, "Disperse in the name of the Amestrian military!"


    The tourists swiftly dispersed away from the fleeing man, and Carlyle realized in a split second that he had a clear shot on the man''s torso. He could make the shot, but the danger to Kimblee''s notes would be too great. If the fleeing man bled on the notes, they could become indecipherable.Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.


    The chase continued with Lt. Hotchkiss frequently shouting for the tourists to disperse until they exited out onto the top of the ancient fort''s walls. As the fleeing man ran in a long straight line devoid of onlookers, Carlyle drew his revolver and loaded a specific round from his belt into an empty cylinder.


    "Stop!" Carlyle shouted as he leveled his revolver.


    The fleeing man did not stop, so Simon Carlyle took a deep breath and smoothly pulled the trigger. The bullet flew forward, missing the man''s knee by a few centimeters and striking the stone battlement beneath.


    Blue bolts of lightning shot outward, and a thick wall of stone erupted upward. In an instant, the fleeing man''s path forward was blocked by an act of long-distance alchemy. The only paths available to him were the way back toward the soldiers and the twenty-meter drop off the side of the battlement.


    "You''re an alchemist," the man with Kimblee''s notes said with shock in his voice. "Wait, I know you. Long-distance alchemy using a bullet as a transmutation circle. You must be the Gunslinger Alchemist."


    "Yeah, that''s me," Carlyle said with annoyance clear in his voice. "Hotchkiss, arrest him."


    Lieutenant Hotchkiss reached into his pocket and withdrew a pair of steel handcuffs. He started walking forward, brandishing the handcuffs in front of him like a weapon. As Hotchkiss approached, the man pulled a handful of papers out of his briefcase and held them out over the side of the wall as a gust of wind lightly blew over the fort, ruffling their hair and fluttering the papers. If the man''s grip loosened, the papers would be scattered for kilometers in every direction.


    Carlyle groaned in annoyance before saying, "Stop, Lieutenant. Okay, let''s all calm down. Whatever you do, don''t let go of those notes."


    "Why? They''re just the notes of some scientist in Central," Elias Miller said, gasping for breath.


    Holding his palms out toward the man in a gesture of peace, Simon Carlyle said, "Those are the notes of the Crimson Alchemist. If you know me, you must know him."


    "What?" The man''s eyes widened in shock as he spoke. "Listen, I had no idea. I''m just a courier. If you let me go, I''ll let you have the notes."


    Carlyle scratched the back of his head for a moment before saying, "We can''t do that, I''m afraid. We''re actually here for you, Mr. Miller."


    "What are you talking about!?"


    "You were present at Central Command on April 4th, correct? Our superiors just want to ask you some questions about the events of that day. If you come with us peacefully and answer all of our questions, I promise you as a State Alchemist and major of the Amestrian army that you''ll be free in twenty-four hours."


    The fear in the man''s eyes worsened significantly. "April 4th? You wouldn''t believe me, and they told me not to tell anyone what I''d seen."


    "Who told you that?"


    "I don''t know. Some officer from the Amestrian military."


    "We''re the Amestrian military. Surely, they won''t care if you tell us."


    The blue lightning of transmutation flashed from the other side of the stone wall, and a wide hole was instantaneously dug through it. An instant later, a woman stepped through the hole and stood next to the fleeing civilian.


    The woman wore a black tank top, and her arms were marked with more than a dozen tattooed transmutation circles. She had long red hair, and her eyes were a light blue. The woman''s build was light and athletic in stark contrast with the man they had been chasing. Carlyle did not relish the prospect of chasing this woman as well.


    "Who are you?" Carlyle asked, demanding an answer from the female alchemist.


    "If you need a name, you can call me Miriam, military dog," the woman spat.


    As she spoke, Simon Carlyle quickly loaded two more rounds into the cylinder of his revolver. The woman''s wrist turned slightly, and Carlyle saw the tattoos inked onto her palms. On the palms of her hand, Miriam carried the explosive transmutation circles of the Crimson Alchemist.


    Intending to threaten the woman, Carlyle aimed his revolver at Miriam, and she moved simultaneously. She placed her palm against the stone wall beside her, and the bright flash of transmutation cast them all in an eerie blue light.

 Chapter 2 - [The Poison Gas Alchemist]

    West City, West Area


    April 20th, 1915


    Simon Carlyle entered a large office that was lined on two sides by luxurious bookcases. He fidgeted nervously with his blue military uniform, checking his epaulettes to make sure they were affixed correctly. The single golden star on each epaulette marked him as a major in the Amestrian military. Due to the nature of his job, he had not worn his uniform in more than a year.


    With his report tucked under his arm, Major Carlyle looked up at his new commanding officer. Sitting behind a large mahogany desk on the other side of the large office was Brigadier General Lloyd Schneider, better known as the Poison Gas Alchemist. The General was about fifty years old, and he wore a pair of circular reading glasses on the bridge of his nose. When Carlyle entered his office, he looked up from the documents he was reading and peered over his glasses to get a better look at the Major. The General smiled jovially when he recognized the man who had just entered his office.


    Going by his friendly demeanor and the pictures of smiling children on his desk alone, one would never know of the man''s morbid notoriety. As Major Carlyle stepped forward, he was able to calm himself somewhat with the knowledge that both of their hands were stained with the same blood.


    "Sir," Carlyle enunciated as he snapped a quick salute.


    "At ease, Major," General Schneider said. "Please, have a seat."


    Simon Carlyle sat down and placed the leather envelope he held on the General''s desk.


    "So you''re the Gunslinger Alchemist," Scheider said with a smile. "One day, you''ll have to tell me how you managed to make such small transmutation circles."


    Laughing nervously, Carlyle said, "I''ll tell you as soon as you teach me your poison air alchemy."


    "Another time, maybe," General Schneider said, laughing. "On to business, then. Show me what you learned in Central."


    "Right," Carlyle reached into the envelope and pulled out a sheaf of papers. Black and white photos of Fuhrer Bradley, Colonel Mustang, and Edward Eldric were stapled onto some of the papers. He cleared his throat before continuing.


    "Some faction in Central has been working to conceal the truth, so my findings have been limited. Broadly speaking, here''s what I found. In the morning, there was an announcement that Fuhrer Bradley died in a train accident, though many witnesses claimed to have seen him present in Central later in the day. Fuhrer Bradley''s wife then announced that the senior staff at Central was behind the Fuhrer''s death. Beyond that, the specifics become difficult to determine.


    "There were several battles between military factions, and the official report is that the senior staff attempted to take control of the country in a coup d''etat. Around the time of the eclipse, Bradley was killed, the Flame Alchemist was blinded, and the Fullmetal Alchemist was wounded in some way that required him to resign his position. And, of course, everyone in the country collapsed when the fighting was at its peak. I saw the area around Central Command, and there was clear evidence that a battle between several skilled alchemists occurred there, though the military police forced me to leave before I could perform an in-depth investigation."This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    General Schneider''s fingers interlocked, and the friendly smile on his face disappeared as he heard Carlyle speak. With a scowl on his face, the General said, "Do you mean to say that Fuhrer Bradley died in Central and not in a train accident?"


    "Yes, sir. I spoke to nearly a dozen civilians, and they all claimed to have seen Bradley near the entrance to Central Command."


    "Hmm," the General grunted. For a moment, Carlyle could glimpse the face of the man who served in the Ishvalan Civil War. "Tell me one last thing, Major. In the course of your investigation, did you hear any mention of a man under the alias of ''Father?''"


    "No, sir," Major Carlyle said, confusion on his face. "Fuhrer Bradley was a father; nothing beyond that. Speaking of which, Bradley''s son hasn''t been seen since April 4th."


    The General''s expression darkened even further at the mention of the Fuhrer''s son. He pushed his glasses up on the bridge of his nose before asking a strange question. "Did you serve in the Ishvalan Civil War, Major?"


    "Yes, sir, though I was just an enlisted man at the time."


    "Did you ever take part in a military action that involved one or more State Alchemists?"


    "Yes," Carlyle said, pausing as the memories of his time in Ishval came flooding back. "A few days after Bradley issued Order 3066, my platoon was almost wiped out by Ishvalan soldiers. The Flame Alchemist was sent to reinforce our position, and he saved our lives. I was inspired me to begin my alchemy research."


    "As I''m sure you witnessed, the effectiveness of the State Alchemists in Ishval cannot be overstated. A mere thirty-three men transformed a nearly-lost war into an extermination. This effectiveness came at a cost, however. ''To obtain, something of equal value must be lost.''" General Schneider began to look down at his hands, an unreadable expression on his face. "The Ishvalans lost their lives, but we lost our very souls. The State Alchemists ceased to be wholly human in return for something greater. It seems, now, that we will never receive the reward for our sacrifice."


    Major Carlyle blinked, trying to grasp the General''s meaning. The Amestrian military won the war, but General Schneider spoke as if they had lost. Feeling the need to respond in some way, Carlyle said, "Are you referring to Bradley''s death?"


    Schneider sighed and paused for a moment. With great difficulty, the mask of affability returned.


    "To an extent, yes. Thank you for your report, Major. Regarding your new assignment, you have been tasked with tracking down and interviewing anyone currently located in West Area who may have witnessed the fighting in Central on April 4th. We have a list of people of interest. As long as you bring in at least one person per month, you will be free to carry out your research unhindered."


    As far as State Alchemist assignments were concerned, finding and interviewing one person per month was incredibly easy. Most State Alchemists were in danger of losing their certification if they didn''t provide a major breakthrough in their field at least once per year. Compared to that, a bit of leg work was nothing.


    "And one last thing," General Schneider said, holding up one gloved finger. "Considering the potential danger of this mission, you will be assigned a partner. His name is Lieutenant Richard Hotchkiss. Two years ago, he graduated top of his class at the military academy, and he is quite the proficient saber duelist. I think you''ll find that his skill set supplements yours quite well."


    "Yes, sir. I won''t let you down." Major Simon Carlyle gave one last salute before leaving the General''s office. He received a list of more than two hundred names and the attached documentation. The papers themselves were enough to fill an entire filing cabinet, and Carlyle was more than happy to let his new subordinate carry the heavy bag filled with text documents and grainy photographs.

 Chapter 3 - [Medical Alchemy]

    Lisberth, West Area


    May 5th, 1915


    One of the transmutation circles on the back of Miriam''s left arm began to glow bright blue, and Carlyle had half a second to figure out what the female alchemist was about to do. The glowing transmutation circle contained the symbols for carbon, oxygen, and silicon contained in a deconstruction matrix. In short, the transmutation circle could be used to destroy stone.


    An instant before Major Carlyle could get his barrel on the female alchemist''s midsection, a large cloud of thick gray smoke exploded out of the stone wall, and his sight of the two individuals was blocked completely. Miriam must have deconstructed the molecules in the stone wall in order to make a smoke screen.


    Moving quickly, Carlyle reached toward the bulky messenger bag leaning against his hip. The straps came unfastened, and the contents within the bag were revealed. Inside of the bag was a large stack of metal disks, and a different transmutation circle was inscribed on each one. Carlyle swiftly picked one disk out of the bag and inserted it into the groove built into his right glove. He knelt down and touched his fist to the ground.


    Blue lightning crackled outward, and a large stone pillar erupted upward once more, carrying Carlyle and Hotchkiss high into the air. As the two men ascended, Carlyle took the opportunity to load three more personalized rounds into the cylinder of his revolver and placed another disk into the divot built into his left glove. He hesitated for half a second before loading the last bullet into the chamber. In the depths of his heart, he truly did not want to use that last bullet.


    The transmutation circle inserted into his left glove contained the symbols for phosphorus, carbon, oxygen, and hydrogen in an alteration matrix. That particular circle formed the bedrock of medical alchemy. The human body could be altered in just about any way through the use of that circle as long as the alchemist was skilled enough.


    With that newly-ascended position, Carlyle aimed his pistol at the wall beyond the stone pillar he had created with alchemy a moment before. The two criminals would certainly use the smoke screen to attempt an escape. A few seconds passed, and then a figure sprinted out of the cloud of smoke. Carlyle fired once more, and another stone pillar appeared farther down the wall. He hoped that the pillar would slow Miriam enough that they could catch up with her before she could get through the pillar. Elias Miller and the female alchemist would have to get past one of the thick stone pillars in order to escape.


    Carlyle blinked as a single frightened individual approached the newly-created pillar of stone. Elias Miller stood there, trapped by the pillar, but Miriam was nowhere to be seen.


    This confusion only lasted a moment, however. An instant later, Carlyle''s stomach lurched as his body began to fall. He looked down and saw his stone tower begin to fall off the tall battlement. A quick blur of red was the only evidence Major Carlyle had that Miriam was behind their sudden unplanned descent.Stolen story; please report.


    Simon Carlyle swore as he frantically reached down toward the ground once more. After a half second of flailing, he managed to touch the falling pillar with his right hand. Lightning arced outward, and three long spikes fired out of the pillar, impaling themselves into the fort''s wall. Major Carlyle and Lieutenant Hotchkiss crashed into the pillar as its downward momentum was suddenly halted. Luckily, the pillar had only fallen a few meters, so the two soldiers only suffered minor bruising.


    "Go!" Major Carlyle shouted to Hotchkiss. "Go after Elias Miller! I''ll deal with the female alchemist!"


    "Yes, sir!" Lieutenant Hotchkiss answered with no hesitation. He rose to his feet and began climbing back on to the battlement like it was the easiest thing in the world.


    Just as Hotchkiss was pulling himself up to the wall, Miriam appeared out of the smoke and began reaching a clawed hand in his direction. Before she could reach Hotchkiss, a bullet zipped a few centimeters in front of Miriam''s face as the cylinder on Carlyle''s revolver put his fourth bullet behind the barrel.


    "You don''t have the privilege of splitting your attention, girl," Carlyle said derisively.


    "I''ll just deal with you first, State Alchemist," Miriam said. She stepped off the battlement and landed heavily upon the pillar placed precariously over a precipitous drop.


    "You''re too confident. If I was taking you seriously, I would have killed you with that last shot. Alchemy won''t save you from a bullet in the brain." Carlyle smirked and lightly twirled his revolver on one finger as he spoke.


    "And you''re too arrogant," Miriam responded angrily. "You didn''t shoot me because you think I''m not a threat. I''ll prove you wrong!"


    The female alchemist charged toward Major Carlyle in a loose fighting stance, prompting Carlyle to skillfully return his revolver to its holster and take up a fighting stance of his own. Miriam swung at the State Alchemist, attempting to touch his vulnerable body with the dangerous transmutation circles etched onto her body.


    Carlyle dodged the frantic assault with minimal effort. He had been in the army for nearly seven years, and he knew that even the most sophisticated battles frequently devolved into hand-to-hand combat. Like a professional boxer, Carlyle weaved around Miriam''s hands. Just as the female alchemist''s frantic assault threatened to force him off the side of the horizontal stone pillar, he launched his counter attack.


    With the speed of a boxer''s jab, Carlyle''s left hand shot forward, lightly touching Miriam''s midsection. A muted blue light momentarily lit the female alchemist''s stomach, and she jerked backwards in shock.


    Frantically, Miriam placed her hands on the location where Carlyle had touched her. A look of confusion crossed over her face as she realized that she wasn''t in any pain.


    Her expression changed once more to one of anger as she shouted, "What did you do!?"


    "Nothing much," Carlyle said with another smirk. As he spoke, Miriam fell to one knee. "I just transmuted some of the elements in your blood into a powerful tranquilizer. Don''t worry, I''ll wake you up when we get to the station."


    She clenched her teeth as she tried to get the ground beneath her to come into focus. Then, unexpectedly, bright arcs of lightning shot out of the pillar beneath them.


    "Wait, hold on," Major Carlyle muttered sheepishly as the stone pillar he stood on was transmuted into sand.

 Chapter 4 - [Free Fall]

    Major Simon Carlyle had about two seconds to arrest his momentum before he crashed into the ground at 71.3 km/h. Such a fall would not necessarily be fatal, but it would be far from pleasant. He would be lucky to walk away from the fall with a few broken bones. To make matters worse, he would have to save the half-conscious female alchemist as well. If she died from the fall, all the effort he had gone through to keep her alive would be in vain. The destroyed pillar could not be used due to the diffusion of the particles. Any connection Carlyle could make would be too brittle to support two people.


    Operating mostly on instinct, Major Carlyle drew his revolver as he began to fall and fired two rounds in quick succession. The first bullet struck the stone wall, and the second struck an ancient tree that had been growing in the shade of the fort ever since it saw active use several hundred years before. Once the two bullets left Carlyle''s barrel, he prepared himself for the effects of his two acts of haphazard alchemy. His safety was out of his hands at that point. All he could do was pray that his calculations were correct.


    Bright light bathed the exterior of the fort as two acts of alchemy occurred simultaneously. A long slab of stone erupted out of the wall and shot downward diagonally. Both Miriam and Major Carlyle struck the transmuted ramp and began sliding downward at a slowed but still unsafe speed.


    Meanwhile, a tree far beneath the ramp began to twist and morph greatly as lightning shot in all directions. It shrank and widened, taking its final form a second before the two alchemists made contact. Where a tree had been a moment before, there was now a large pile of cardboard.


    The two alchemists crashed into the soft pile of cardboard and were completely unharmed. After a few seconds of pushing against the soft material surrounding him, Carlyle freed himself from the cardboard. Slowly, he made his way over to where Miriam had fallen, holding his revolver at the ready. The Major threw some scattered cardboard out of the way, revealing the female alchemist laying unmoving on the ground.


    Carlyle knelt down and pressed two fingers to Miriam''s neck. Her pulse was low enough that he was confident she was sufficiently sedated. The Major carefully dragged the female alchemist out of the transmuted pile of cardboard as he carefully considered his next move. Hotchkiss was presently on the wall with Elias Miller. The 1st Lieutenant most likely didn''t need backup to deal with a frightened civilian, so Carlyle decided to secure his own tattooed prisoner first. He lifted Miriam''s unmoving body onto his shoulders and began walking back toward the main entrance to the fort.


    By the time Major Carlyle reached the front entrance, a squad of police officers and several police cars had pulled up near the entrance. One of the police officers, an older man with graying hair and bright blue eyes, saw the approaching man carrying an unconscious woman over his shoulders and decided to intervene.


    "What are you doing?" the police officer demanded.


    "Police, good," Carlyle said as he lightly placed Miriam down on the ground. "Do any of you have a pen?"


    "I do." One of the other police officers answered automatically, earning a glare from the older officer.This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    "Don''t offer a pen to the suspect, Officer Black. You," the older officer pointed at Carlyle. "If you don''t want to be arrested for kidnapping, identify yourself and explain why you''re carrying an unconscious woman."


    He cleared his throat and stood up to his full height before saying, "I''m Major Simon Carlyle, a State Alchemist, and this female alchemist attacked me unprovoked. I sedated her, and I need you to take her into custody. Can you do that?"


    A frightened look appeared on the younger officer''s face, and he saluted frantically. In comparison, the older officer looked suspicious.


    The older officer said, "A State Alchemist in Lisberth? I have some trouble believing that. Do you have any proof?"


    "Of course," Carlyle said. He reached into his pocket and produced a shining silver pocket watch emblazoned with the Amestrian dragon circumscribed within a hexagram. On pain of death, no one except for a State Alchemist was allowed to display such a symbol on their person.


    With a smile, Carlyle said, "From your perspective, either I''m a State Alchemist, or I killed one. Either way, you should probably give me that pen."


    "Yes, sir!" Officer Black shouted as he swiftly stepped forward with a fountain pen held outward.


    Major Carlyle took the pen and turned to the unconscious woman. He took one of her arms in his hand and began marking her tattoos with deep ink lines.


    "Excuse me, sir. If you don''t mind me asking, what are you doing?" Officer Black asked.


    "I''m interfering with the transmutation circles," Carlyle said. "When she wakes up, she won''t be able to perform alchemy until the pen''s ink fades." He watched as the other police officers handcuffed Miriam''s unconscious body and put her in the back of a squad car


    As the Major began to walk back toward the fort, the older police officer said, "I am Sergeant Renault, sir. We will do everything in our power to process and prosecute this woman. Assaulting a military officer is a serious offense."


    "Just make sure I can talk to her when she wakes up," Carlyle said a moment before he began walking back toward Hotchkiss and Elias Miller.


    Carlyle hadn''t made it too far into the fort before he saw the 1st Lieutenant. The bright blue of Hotchkiss''s uniform stood out from his drab surroundings like a lighthouse on a dark night.


    "Good job with the arrest, Hotchkiss. Did you retrieve all of Kimblee''s notes?"


    "Yes, sir." As Hotchkiss spoke, he held a sheaf of ciphered papers out toward Carlyle, who took them greedily.


    "Perfect. It looks like we got everything we¡­"


    Major Carlyle''s sentence was cut off by the deafening sound of a nearby explosion. The two men quickly turned toward the source of the explosion and saw a large smoke cloud billow out from the direction of the gathered police officers.


    They rushed over to the explosion and arrived just in time to see a burning police car and several police officers on the ground, grasping fresh wounds in pain. He realized that the destroyed police car was the one that had been holding the female alchemist a moment before.


    Carlyle drew his revolver and swiftly scanned the scene for any signs of Miriam. At the edge of his vision, he saw a flash of red, and muscle memory put his sights on the target. For a bare instant, he had a shot on Miriam''s midsection before she reached the treeline.


    There was only one bullet left in Carlyle''s revolver, and he was painfully aware of what it would do to a human body if it made contact. He almost pulled the trigger. He should have pulled the trigger, but he hesitated. The image of Miriam writhing in agony as the blood in her body was slowly transmuted into steam paralyzed his finger.


    The moment of hesitation passed, and Miriam was gone. She had escaped into the forest, and Carlyle knew chasing her would be pointless.


    Lieutenant Hotchkiss looked around at the scene with an expression of confusion and asked, "What happened?"


    Major Carlyle removed the Evaporation Round from his revolver''s cylinder and returned it to his belt before saying three words.


    "I underestimated her."

 Chapter 5 - [The Next Fuhrer]

    Police Station


    Lisberth, West Area


    May 5th, 1915


    Carlyle and Hotchkiss sat in the officer''s area of the local police station as Sergeant Renault processed Elias Miller''s arrest. They were probably going to throw the book at him due to his connection with Miriam and her organization. The man was in more than enough trouble, and Carlyle hadn''t even told anyone that he was transporting top secret military documents.


    "How do you think she got away?" Hotchkiss asked as Carlyle stared intently at Kimblee''s notes.


    "It must have been medical alchemy," Carlyle muttered angrily. "Before she passed out, she must have used the medical transmutation circle on her left shoulder to transmute some of her own blood into an opioid antagonist. That''s the only way she could have passed out and then woken up a few minutes later. If I hadn''t used an opioid to knock her out, it wouldn''t have worked."


    "Uh huh," Hotchkiss said, clearly not understanding most of the explanation. "So she''s a skilled medical alchemist?"


    "Not necessarily. She might have stolen the notes of Dr. Marcoh or Dr. Knox like she did with Kimblee."


    "That''s highly concerning. How could she have received such documents? Only State Alchemists and high-ranking military personnel have access to those notes."


    Carlyle''s fingers interlocked as he said, "She might be working with a State Alchemist."


    "What?"


    "After the events of April 4th, it''s certainly not out of the question that a State Alchemist could have betrayed our country. As we have seen, Colonel Roy Mustang, Brigadier General Olivier Armstrong, and the Fullmetal Alchemist were somehow involved in the death of Fuhrer King Bradley. Compared to that, selling state secrets is nothing."


    A look of concern appeared on Lieutenant Hotchkiss''s face, and a heavy silence fell. Carlyle stared at Kimblee''s ciphered notes, and he couldn''t stop himself from beginning the deciphering process. The cipher was insultingly easy. Any alchemist with half a brain could break the cipher in three minutes.


    Honestly, it was irresponsible. Carlyle had never met the Crimson Alchemist, but he could only imagine what kind of person would hide such a dangerous secret behind such a childish puzzle. After a minute of silence, he couldn''t help himself. He took Officer Black''s pen and started deciphering the notes. An A became an H, an H became an O. He deciphered the lines of text, and he immediately began to feel uncomfortable.


    The notes placed extreme emphasis on the sounds that the explosives made, and the sounds were described in emotional, almost erotic language. Carlyle knew it was important to love your job, but this was too much. When he deciphered the title of Chapter 2, he decided to take a break.You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.


    Chapter 2: The Ultimate High-Explosive, the Human Body


    Carlyle was starting to understand why Kimblee was arrested after the Ishvalan Civil War. Even for the Amestrian military, he was a bit too bloodthirsty. Major Carlyle knew plenty of guys who weren''t bothered by their deployment in Ishval, but none of them took pleasure in the destruction wrought there.


    Officer Black entered the file room, giving Carlyle a break from the deranged notes. The young officer said, "We''re moving Elias Miller to the interrogation cell now. You''ll be able to talk to him in ten minutes."


    "Thank you, officer," Carlyle said as he returned Kimblee''s notes to the envelope.


    "You work directly under Lieutenant General Schneider, then?" Officer Black asked.


    "Yeah. Why do you ask?"


    "Is it true what they say? That he''s going to be the next Fuhrer?"


    "Maybe," Carlyle said, shrugging. "No officers in the Amestrian military currently hold the rank of General. They all retired or were arrested in Central on April 4th."


    "Huh," Hotchkiss said, genuine surprise appearing on his face. "I didn''t know that. What happened to General Philip Armstrong?"


    "Officially, he retired due to pressure from his family," Carlyle said. His glare deepened as he realized something. "Family such as Major General Olivier Armstrong and Major Alex Armstrong."


    "Hmm," Hotchkiss grunted.


    "The next Fuhrer will certainly be one of the three Lieutenant Generals in command of the outer districts. These are Lloyd Schneider, Commander of the West; Robert Vultee, Commander of the South; and John Grumman, Commander of the East."


    "Who do you think will win?" Officer Black asked.


    "Either Grumman or Schneider," Carlyle said without hesitation. "Grumman has the most experience of the three, but Schneider is a State Alchemist. There is value in having a leader with significant destructive power. Sure, Grumman might provide more stability, but no one will ever be able to kidnap Lieutenant General Schneider."


    "How will they even decide who the next Fuhrer will be?" Officer Black asked.


    "The same way they chose Fuhrer King Bradley all those years ago. Every officer with the rank of Brigadier General or above will convene in Central, and they''ll stay there until one person gets the support of two-thirds of the electors."


    "That sounds tough."


    "It is," Major Carlyle said with a sigh. "Last time, it took three weeks for the generals to reach a consensus."


    As if suddenly realizing something, Officer Black straightened his posture and said, "I''m so sorry, sir. I got distracted. Elias Miller will be ready now."


    "Don''t worry about it," Carlyle said as he stood and picked up Kimblee''s notes. "You helped me organize my thoughts. I should be thanking you."


    Carlyle and Hotchkiss began walking toward the interrogation cell. Officer Black told them how to reach the cell before quickly backing away from the two high-ranking military personnel.


    Just before the two men reached the cell, Lieutenant Hotchkiss spoke. "Is that why we''re here, Major Carlyle? To help General Schneider become the Fuhrer?"


    "Hotchkiss¡­" Carlyle said darkly. "Edward Elric and Roy Mustang were the direct subordinates of General Grumman while they were stationed in the East. If they were involved with the death of the Fuhrer, then Grumman might have been involved as well. This isn''t some cynical political ploy. If Grumman was involved, we have to stop him from becoming the Fuhrer for the good of the country. We can''t let an assassin rise to the highest office."


    "You''re right, sir," Hotchkiss said, and motivation shone brightly in his dark eyes. "We need to save this country."


    With their resolve strengthened, the two men strode into the interrogation cell.

 Chapter 6 - [The Promised Day]

    Elias Miller nervously looked at the two military officers as they wordlessly entered the cell. One of the man''s hands was handcuffed to the table, and he was forced to sit at an awkward angle due to this. The handcuffs and cell seemed largely unnecessary to Carlyle since he and Hotchkiss could easily subdue the man if he resisted. The man was certainly no soldier.


    "Hey! Can we get an officer in here to uncuff him?" Carlyle shouted toward the cell''s entrance. There were no officers nearby, but the cellblock they stood in had good acoustics. Carlyle''s voice probably traveled quite far.


    After several seconds passed with no response, Carlyle muttered, "I guess they''re really not eavesdropping."


    The local police passed the test. The conversation Carlyle was about to have with Elias Miller would involve matters of national security, and he could not afford to have the members of a provincial police force overhear their conversation.


    After several seconds of silence passed, Elias Miller could no longer handle the pressure. Unbidden, he began to speak.


    "I''ll tell you everything I told the cops. I was hired by my usual handler in West City to transport an unmarked package to Lisberth. He told me to hand the package over to a red-haired woman named Miriam. That''s all I know."


    Annoyance darkening Carlyle''s face, he said, "Yes, the female alchemist has appeared on our long list of problems to deal with, but she''s not our primary concern. Right now, we just want to know about the events of April 4th."


    Elias''s mouth twitched as Carlyle spoke. "You mentioned that. Who do you work for?"


    Lieutenant Hotchkiss violently slammed his fist on the table and shouted, "We''re the ones asking the questions, here!"


    Elias jumped back in fear, and the pair of handcuffs connecting him to the sturdy metal table was the only thing that stopped him from retreating all the way to the edge of the cell.


    "Easy, Hotchkiss," Carlyle chided as he waved a hand in his partner''s direction. "I work directly under Lieutenant General Schneider, the provincial commander of the West Area."


    "Who does he report to?"


    "Right now, nobody. Schneider worked directly under the Fuhrer."


    "Will he give me immunity if I testify?"


    "Yes, you have my word."


    Elias Miller paused for a long moment before continuing. "Okay, I''ll tell you everything I know."Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.


    Without missing a beat, Carlyle and Hotchkiss both produced notebooks from the pockets of their coats. They opened their notebooks to a clean page, and Carlyle gestured for Elias Miller to begin speaking.


    After nearly ten minutes of testimony that Carlyle already knew, Elias said something immensely informative.


    "I was standing near Central Command when I saw something amazing. Fuhrer King Bradley was there, and he walked right up to the front entrance of Central Command. Soldiers dressed in snow camouflage stood at the entrance as if they were guarding it, and they started shooting at Bradley."


    Carlyle looked up from his notebook in shock. "The Briggs soldiers attacked Fuhrer King Bradley!?"


    Miller frowned before saying, "It would be more accurate to say that Bradley attacked the Briggs soldiers."


    "Wait, hold on," Carlyle said, holding up a hand to temporarily pause the man''s testimony. "Let me get this straight. You''re saying that soldiers from Fort Briggs to the north were occupying Central Command, and Fuhrer King Bradley ordered a group of soldiers to assault their position."


    "No, no, you misunderstand. Bradley attacked the Briggs soldiers by himself armed with just a saber and a few grenades."


    Lieutenant Hotchkiss''s mouth twitched upward in a look of anger before he asked, "Are you lying? Don''t screw with us?"


    "No! No!" Elias Miller insisted. "That''s the truth. I swear to God."


    "Okay¡­" Carlyle said, doubtful of what he had heard. Why would the leader of the military assault a fortified position all by himself? It didn''t make any sense. Carlyle didn''t immediately challenge the testimony, however. He knew that the best way to find the truth was to hear the whole testimony and then find the contradictions that would inevitably appear in such a complicated lie. "What happened next?"


    Miller continued speaking, and the next ten minutes of his testimony was largely unhelpful. He talked about frantic troop movement and periodic rumbling in the ground. In the hours leading up to the eclipse, Miller went into the campus of Central Command in order to deliver a package to an officer who had already been arrested by the military police.


    "Everyone in Central Command collapsed at the height of the eclipse for about a minute."


    "Just like everywhere else," Carlyle muttered.


    "Yes. When I woke up, I was near a window looking out on the courtyard. What I saw there was even more unbelievable than the Fuhrer assaulting a fortified position with just a sword."


    "Speak, then," Carlyle said, coaxing Miller forward.


    "There was a man with long blond hair dressed in nothing but a loin cloth. A company of soldiers and about half a dozen alchemists attacked him. The man was clearly a powerful alchemist, and the fight was a close one. This strange man seemed completely unbothered when the soldiers hit him with a concentrated artillery barrage."


    "He was attacked by alchemists? Which alchemists?"


    "The ones I recognized were Major Armstrong, Colonel Mustang, and Edward Elric. The alchemists won eventually, and Edward Elric killed the strange alchemist. Later, I overheard one of the soldiers refer to the man as ''Father.''"


    Carlyle was taken aback by that statement. He remembered his previous conversation with General Schneider and recalled that strange question about a man named ''Father.'' This blond, unclothed alchemist must have been the man that the General was interested in.


    Miller spoke for a bit longer, but none of it was of interest to Carlyle or Hotchkiss. Eventually, the two men flipped their notebooks closed and rose to their feet.


    "Your testimony has been very helpful," Carlyle said, looking down at the handcuffed man. "I''ll relay this information to General Schneider. He might want to hear your testimony in person in West City."


    "Will you be able to get me out of here?" Miller asked, desperation obvious in his voice.


    "We''ll see."

 Chapter 7 - [Schneider Snapped]

    "Good afternoon, this is Major Simon Carlyle from the State Alchemist Department. Could you please connect me to the office of Lieutenant General Lloyd Schneider?"


    The Major tapped the hard leather sole of his shoe on the ground impatiently as he held the telephone receiver to his ear. In the hand not holding the phone, he held his notebook, which was filled with frantic notes detailing the important facts from Elias Miller''s testimony. He stood in the office of Lisberth''s police commissioner who selflessly "volunteered" to let Carlyle use his office phone for as long as necessary when he heard the name of the regional commander being thrown around.


    "Please provide your security code, Major Carlyle," the phone operator requested politely.


    "Yes, ma''am," Carlyle said, trying not to let his tone convey the anxiety and excitement running through his body. Elias Miller had given him the investigative breakthrough he was looking for, and the General had to know as soon as possible.


    "Kilo - two - another two - foxtrot - four - five - november - three - zero - another zero - six."


    K22F45N3006


    There was a long pause as the phone operator referenced Major Carlyle''s security code. Eventually, the female voice returned, saying, "Thank you for your patience. I will connect you to Lieutenant General Schneider in a moment."


    There was another pause, and then the familiar sound of the General''s voice cut through the static of the empty line.


    "This is Schneider. Report."


    "Sir!" Carlyle said, and he had to stop himself from saluting on muscle memory alone. "I have information to report regarding my mission. Is this a secure line?"


    "You''re calling from a non-military telephone, so our call is far from secure. That doesn''t matter. Let them eavesdrop, that''s what I say! No one in this country holds authority over us, and there are no assassins in this world that can stand up to the might of the Amestrian State Alchemists. Speak your mind, son."


    Carlyle could hear the General''s smile and infectious energy over the phone, and he couldn''t stop himself from smiling. He could really see why General Schneider held the highest military rank of all State Alchemists.


    "Thank you, sir," Carlyle said as he looked down at the jumble of notes sitting in his lap. "This might take a little while, but I''m sure you want to hear this."


    "I have time," Schneider answered affably.


    Over the next few minutes, Carlyle provided an abridged version of Elias Miller''s testimony. He told Schneider about the Briggs soldiers guarding Central Command while also providing some biased commentary on Fort Briggs and Major General Olivier Armstrong. Schneider listened politely, though he was less invested in the testimony than Carlyle predicted.The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    After more than ten minutes of talking, Carlyle moved on to the testimony of the battle in Central Command''s courtyard. The Major was much less interested in this part of Elias Miller''s testimony. Sure, it was significant, but Carlyle was far more interested in the testimony that pertained to the Fuhrer''s assassination.


    Schneider, on the other hand, became much more interested in the testimony as Carlyle described the powerful blond alchemist dressed in antique clothing.


    "This alleged alchemist fought against more than a hundred enlisted soldiers and several State Alchemists. According to Elias Miller, Colonel Roy Mustang, Major Alex Louis Armstrong, and Edward Elric fought against this man who some called ''Father.''"


    "What happened next? Did Elias Miller see what happened to Father!?"


    General Schneider''s voice was ragged and uneven. The old general was desperate to hear news on this alchemist who sounded like a fairy tale to Carlyle. For some reason that the Major did not understand, the General cared far more about this random alchemist than the assassination of Fuhrer King Bradley.


    "Father was killed by Edward Elric. At least, that''s what Elias Miller said."


    As soon as Carlyle mentioned the death of father, a sound suspiciously similar to pained choking emanated from the other side of the line. When he finished speaking, more than ten seconds of silence followed, punctuated only by the sound of fabric tearing and metal clattering against wood. Carlyle tried to ignore the similarity it had to the sound of an officer tearing off his epaulettes and dropping them upon a table.


    After a long silence, Carlyle nervously asked, "Uh¡­ sir?"


    "Major Simon Carlyle¡­" General Schneider said in an eerily calm voice. It was a voice filled with the resignation and acceptance of a man who knew he had lost a war. "I hereby resign as the Commander of the West Area."


    "What!?" Carlyle gasped into the telephone. "What do you mean? Who will govern the West when you''re gone?"


    "I don''t know." Schneider''s voice became annoyed. "Might as well just put you in charge. You''d do a way better job than we ever would. Heheh." A cruel laugh came from the other side of the line.


    Carlyle suddenly realized he had heard a similar tone before. Back in Ishval, one of the soldiers in his platoon was ordered to use incendiary mortar rounds on an enemy position. It turned out those "enemy combatants" were innocent civilians. When Carlyle sat at the mess hall with that soldier later that day, that soldier spoke in the exact same tone that General Schneider used at that moment.


    Schneider said, "Maybe we''ll finally be able to stop that war in Creta. Heh. As long as you don''t actively sabotage yourself, they''ll think you''re a messiah sent by God."


    "Sir, might I suggest you take a break?"


    "No, I''ve never felt clearer in my entire life. It''s like I''m waking up from a long dream, and only now am I finally seeing what''s important. Yeah, I hereby name you, Simon Carlyle, my successor as Commander of the West Area."


    "What? No! I''m only twenty-five years old, I have no experience in high-level military command, and I''m only a major."


    "Right," Schneider paused. "Congratulations, you''re a colonel, now. I''d make you a lieutenant general, but I only have the authority to raise you up to colonel without confirmation from the Fuhrer."


    "What? Sir! I have to insist that you¡­"


    "Stop your investigation into King Bradley''s death and come back to West City so you can take command of the West Area. You are ordered to burn all documents regarding your investigation and to never tell anyone about what you found. Understand?"


    "Yes?"


    "Good."


    The call dropped, and Simon Carlyle was left sitting there, aghast at the situation. He had just been promoted two ranks, but he didn''t feel proud. A pit formed in his stomach as he realized that one of the three most powerful men in Amestris, a fundamental pillar of his country, had gone completely insane.

 Chapter 8 - [Lisberth Town Hall]

    Slowly, Simon Carlyle moved the phone he held limply in his hand and placed it back on the receiver. General Schneider''s rapid-fire commands repeated in his mind over and over, but none of them were really sinking in. Carlyle was worried that the orders would escape his mind over time, so he took his pen and scrawled down several bullet points on his notebook.


    Schneider resigned as Commander of the West Area.Carlyle is the new Commander of the West Area.Carlyle was promoted to the rank of colonel.Investigation into the death of Fuhrer King Bradley is to cease immediately.All documents regarding the investigation are to be burned.Carlyle is forbidden from divulging any information regarding the investigation.


    In total, General Schneider''s mental breakdown could be split into six distinct orders that Carlyle was duty-bound to follow. Unless Schneider later rescinded these commands, Carlyle and every other officer below the rank of lieutenant general would have to follow these orders within a reasonable amount of time.


    Hopefully, General Schneider would forget to tell anyone else about these orders, Carlyle thought. In the back of his mind, however, he knew that he would not be so lucky.


    Deciding that the situation required an active solution, Carlyle swiftly strode out of the police commissioner''s office with a concerned look on his face. He walked past Lieutenant Hotchkiss who was sitting on a chair nearby and holding an animated conversation with a female officer.


    Carlyle pressed his lips together and let out a quick trilling whistle that any active member of the military would recognize. It was the signal that meant "there''s danger nearby, but you don''t need to draw your weapon." Such signals were usually used to indicate a dangerous failure in equipment or, more frequently, a dangerous failure in the command structure. Hotchkiss looked up and, hearing the whistled command, jumped out of his seat without saying goodbye to the cute military girl he was talking to.


    "Major Carlyle, how did your conversation with General Schneider go?"


    Simon Carlyle sighed heavily before responding. "It might be best for you to not refer to me by my rank for a little while. My rank will be up in the air for a bit."


    Carlyle had come to identify with his rank of major. He had been "Major Carlyle" for three years at that point, and any other rank would feel strange. Naturally, he wanted to be promoted to lieutenant colonel one day, but he didn''t want that day to be paired with such governmental instability.


    A look of pity crossed over Lieutenant Hotchkiss''s face as he said, "I''m sorry for that, sir. Was General Schneider displeased with the progress of the investigation?"


    "You misunderstand; I wasn''t demoted. While we spoke, Schneider said I would be promoted to colonel."


    "That''s great news," Hotchkiss said, though he looked confused. "Why are you talking like that''s a bad thing?"This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.


    Carlyle stopped mid-stride and quickly turned his head to see if anyone could overhear them. Once he was confident that no one was in earshot, he leaned in close and said, "Something happened to General Schneider, mentally. I told him about the death of that powerful blond alchemist, Father, and he started acting like the world had ended. Schneider¡­" Carlyle peered over his shoulder once more, "said he would resign as Commander of the West Area."


    "What?"


    "And he said I would be his successor."


    "Can he do that?"


    "I don''t know. Other than Schneider, there are seven generals in the West. Even with my new theoretical rank of colonel, they all outrank me. I don''t know how I''m supposed to command eight men with much higher ranks. All I know is that we have to get back to West City as soon as possible to deal with the fallout."


    "That sounds like the best course of action," Hotchkiss muttered.


    Out of the corner of his eye, Carlyle spotted Sergeant Renault. He waved to the police officer and began lightly jogging to get within earshot.


    "Hey, Sergeant Renault," Carlyle called out. "We''ll be heading back to West City today. I need to make one last request."


    Renault stood at attention, though he still glared at Carlyle out of the side of his eye. "What is it, sir?"


    "I need you to free Elias Miller and drop all charges against him," Carlyle said with a frown.


    "Under whose authority?"


    "My own. On the paperwork, tell them that the order was sent by Colonel Simon Carlyle."


    "Colonel?"


    "I''m a go-getter. What can I say? One last thing, where''s the Town Hall? I suspect there are some people that want to talk to me immediately, and they''ll want to use a government line."


    The Town Hall was within walking distance of the police station, so Carlyle and Hotchkiss made their way over to the large building in the center of town on foot. Carlyle didn''t take the time to appreciate the town''s modest architecture or stop to make small talk with the town''s people. His thoughts were focused entirely on the political crisis that would be caused by Lieutenant General Schneider''s mental breakdown.


    It was funny in a strange way. Carlyle had thought that his trip around the West Area would be something like a vacation. He thought he would be able to enjoy the destinations and cuisines of the areas he visited without having to worry about the trials that typically came with military service. This was a foolish assumption, in hindsight. Ever since Carlyle left West City, the first person he approached fled from him on sight, he fought an alchemist and failed to arrest her, and the information he found on his investigation caused his boss to fly off the handle.


    Carlyle and Hotchkiss approached the secretary sitting at a table near the entrance of the Town Hall. The secretary was a blonde woman in her thirties who didn''t wear a military uniform. Like Carlyle, the only indication that she was military personnel was the green dragon patch on her blouse.


    In Amestris, all government employees were members of the military and, thus, had military ranks. Every tax collector, secretary, prosecutor, police officer, judge, and urban planner was officially a member of the military. Nearly ninety percent of the military was considered to be in Civilian Service, which meant they did not carry weapons or expect to ever face combat. These people still had uniforms for special occasions, but they would not wear them regularly. This woman, and most of the people working at the Town Hall, were members of the Civilian Service and therefore held the rank of specialist.


    In a tired voice, Carlyle said, "Hello. Are there any calls pending for Simon Carlyle?"


    Recognition dawned on the secretary''s face, and Carlyle''s frown deepened. "Oh, you''re here. Please come this way."


    The woman stood from her seat and escorted the two men further into the Lisberth Town Hall. Carlyle might have been imagining it, but he could have sworn he heard the sound of several phones ringing in a cacophonous choir.

 Chapter 9 - [Major General Fairchild]

    Within minutes, Carlyle was sitting by the Town Hall''s switchboard. The room he sat in held ten telephones, and four of them were ringing simultaneously. In the background, several of the employees at the Town Hall were purposefully walking back and forth, connecting phone lines and writing down where the call was coming from.


    "Just to confirm, all these calls are coming from the military base in West City?" Carlyle asked the secretary that had escorted him and Hotchkiss to the switchboard.


    "Yes, sir," the secretary confirmed.


    "Among the callers, who has the highest rank?" Carlyle asked with a sigh.


    "That would be Major General Fairchild," said one of the Town Hall''s employees.


    "Better start with him, then." Carlyle said. "Everyone without top-secret security clearance, get out."


    Everyone other than Carlyle filtered out of the switchboard room, leaving him alone with several furiously ringing telephones. He sat down at the phone that he knew was connected to General Fairchild''s office and picked up the earpiece.


    "This is Carlyle," he said quickly.


    "Is it true!?" the voice on the other side demanded. Carlyle had never met General Fairchild or heard his voice, but the voice he heard fit the description. Fairchild was a forty-three year old career soldier. He was young as far as major generals went, and Lieutenant General Schneider had put him in charge of the ongoing border war with Creta.


    Major General Fairchild could have risen to the top of the hierarchy if not for his absolute lack of desire to engage in military politics. His only desire was to fight and kill the enemies of Amestris. This hard-headed personality and uncritical loyalty helped him rise quickly through the ranks to his current position, but it prevented him from rising any further. As such, Fairchild had languished in his current rank for more than eight years.


    "Is it true that Schneider nominated you as the new Western Commander?" General Fairchild asked.


    "Yes, sir," Carlyle said unhappily.


    "Let''s put a moratorium on the word ''sir'' until we figure out who''s in charge. You''ll need to come back to West City while we figure all this out."


    "I understand."


    "Right," Fairchild paused for a moment. "Captain Heinrich, tell Major General Canberra that I was able to connect to Colonel Carlyle!" He paused once more as he turned back to his phone''s receiver. "I should ask, what is your intention now?"


    "I don''t know, s¡­" Carlyle had to stop himself from using the word sir. "I don''t know, General Fairchild. I am obligated to follow Schneider''s orders, but it would be terrible for the country if I ended up as the Western Commander."


    "That''s too bad, because that just happened. As of ten minutes ago, you''re the Commander of the West Area and all ten million people who live there. I can''t reverse the decision, since Schneider still outranks me."Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.


    "Oh, God. Can''t you convince him to reverse his decision?"


    "He''s not here anymore. After he told me about his decision to resign, he disappeared completely. There were some reports of blue lightning, and a section of wall was clearly rebuilt with alchemy."


    "That''s for the best. He''s one of the most dangerous alchemists in the country. It''s good that he just ran and didn''t hurt anyone."


    "In other circumstances, talking about a superior officer like that could get you in a lot of trouble," Fairchild chided Carlyle. "Considering Schneider''s behavior, I''ll let it pass. What happened during your phone call, anyway? Did something happen that resulted in his¡­ behavioral shift?"


    Carlyle paused for a long moment. He wanted to tell Fairchild the truth, but he could not. "I can''t tell you that."


    "Ah, I see. He forbade you from telling me."


    "Hmm," Carlyle said noncommittally. "If I can''t stop Schneider''s order making me the Western Commander, then I''ll just re¡­"


    "Hold on just a second!" Fairchild said, loudly interrupting Carlyle. "I would highly recommend waiting until you''re in West City before you - theoretically - start throwing around words like ''resign'' or ''step down.'' We''ve had enough major institutional changes for one day. At least we have a Western Commander right now. If you resign right now, no one would know whether I or Canberra will take your place."


    "Who will be the Western Commander after me?"


    "I think it should be me; Canberra thinks it should be him."


    "Oh, no."


    "You see, I have much more experience, but Canberra claims that his position as head of Internal Affairs in West City makes him more suitable as a replacement for Lieutenant General Schneider. If you ask me, we need someone who''s willing to pursue a hard line against the Cretans as the Commander of the West Area."


    Carlyle had to stop himself from vomiting with anxiety. Was he really being asked to make such an important decision? The decision between Fairchild and Canberra would change the course of Amestrian history for generations, and Carlyle was just a young man with some alchemical knowledge. He was in no way qualified to do such a thing.


    "No," Carlyle said with more conviction than he felt. "I''m just a State Alchemist. I''m not going to make this decision. Here''s what''s going to happen. I''ll be in West City in three days. If you and Canberra haven''t worked out who will be the next Western Commander by then, I will flip a coin!"


    "But¡­"


    Carlyle slammed the receiver down on the phone stand. It was only a few seconds later that he realized the enormity of what he had just done. He had just angrily hung up on a major general. Fairchild could have him killed and not lose any sleep over it.


    The pit in Carlyle''s stomach grew stronger with every passing second, and he was only able to calm himself by thinking back to his time in Ishval. This was just like the Civil War. If he ended up dead, at least he died for his country. The wrath of Fairchild was no more dangerous than a speeding bullet fired by an angry Ishvalan, and Carlyle had survived plenty of those. As long as he stuck to his convictions and served his country faithfully, he could die without regrets.


    Carlyle strode out of the switchboard room, passing Lieutenant Hotchkiss and half a dozen other employees of the Town Hall. Hotchkiss fell in beside him, and Carlyle was grateful to know that at least one person would stick with him.


    "If anyone else asks for me, tell them I''m on the next train to West City," Carlyle told the blonde secretary that had escorted them to the switchboard room.


    Carlyle was bombarded with questions from the secretary and the employees, but he remained completely silent and walked resolutely to the Town Hall''s front entrance. It was only when he had left the Town Hall with Hotchkiss that he finally spoke.


    "You might want to jump ship soon, Hotchkiss. I think I just antagonized a general."


    "An Amestrian general?"


    "Yes, unfortunately."


    "If it''s you, I''m sure we''ll be fine."


    Carlyle smiled at the Lieutenant''s heartening words. As a career soldier, he felt much more confident with another soldier watching his back.

 Chapter 10 - [R.L.F.]

    The Lisberth-Athenry Express (Between Lisberth and West City)


    May 7th, 1915


    For the second day in a row, Carlyle and Hotchkiss sat in a crowded train headed east toward West City. Hotchkiss held a newspaper in his hands, which had a large title that read in big capital letters, SCHNEIDER RESIGNS. Carlyle silently muttered in annoyance while he stared at that headline. Of course, such a major shift in the structure of the country''s government could not be kept a secret, but Carlyle would have preferred for it to not be front page news.


    "Why doesn''t the military control the newspapers?" Carlyle complained. "We''re the only stable military junta in the world, yet we don''t have any systems in place to censor articles that might harm national security."


    Hotchkiss looked at his superior officer over the newspaper. He began folding the paper while he said, "Do you want my opinion on the matter, sir?"


    "Sure, why not. It''s not like we have anything better to do."


    "It''s the result of the national character of Amestris. We are a very rational people. If you ask our neighbors, we''re too rational. All of our institutions and organizations exist in such a way because that is the most efficient way for them to exist. Censorship is inefficient, so we don''t do it. On the other hand, the military is hyper-efficient, so we organize everything in military terms."


    "Hmm," Carlyle grunted while he looked out the window. "I didn''t know you were a philosopher."


    "I find the time to read when I can."


    Carlyle continued to stare out the window, and nearly a minute passed in silence punctuated only by the rhythmic clatter of the train''s wheels against the tracks. The two men sat in a private train car, so they could speak freely without the concern of being overheard.


    Eventually, Carlyle let out a long sigh and asked, "What do you think we should do about the investigation into Bradley''s assassination?"


    "Assassination? Are you convinced that it truly was an assassination?"


    "Yeah," Carlyle said shortly. "There''s no doubt in my mind. Somebody in Central killed the Fuhrer." He grit his teeth, and a wrathful look crossed over his face. "Yet no one cares! Our leader was killed, and Schneider was only interested in this unimportant antique alchemist named Father. The other officers don''t care enough to launch their own investigations. If I could uncover enough evidence to confirm that Bradley didn''t die in the train crash, they could have done the same. But no, they were more interested in their damn careers! Whatever happened to loyalty!? Whatever happened to a man''s duty to his country!?"A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    "You know," Hotchkiss began to speak informally, but he stopped himself by clearing his throat, "uh, sir. If you brought the results of the investigation to the press, the populace would care. There would be Hell to pay, and all the military personnel obliquely involved would be fired and possibly executed. Mustang, the Armstrongs, and the Elrics would all be destroyed in that investigation''s wake. Maybe it would be for the best if you revealed the truth."


    "I can''t," Carlyle said with clenched teeth. "Lieutenant General Schneider ordered me to keep my mouth shut. It''s fine, though. I''ll find and convince him to allow us to reveal the results of our investigation. It will all be fine when¡­"


    Carlyle paused and tilted his head to the side as if listening for something. After a few seconds of completely still silence, he exploded into movement. He drew his revolver and frantically loaded six bullets into the cylinder. A moment later, he inserted two disks marked with transmutation circles into his gloves. As he worked frantically, he let out a low droning whistle. It was the signal that enemies had breached the perimeter.


    Wordlessly, Hotchkiss drew his sword as quietly as possible, and Carlyle grabbed the hunting knife he held in his boot at all times. If he was ever forced to disarm, he figured they would be too focused on his revolver and gloves to check him thoroughly. This way, he would always have a sharp knife on hand.


    The two soldiers crouched low, ready to pounce at any moment. In the silence, Hotchkiss could begin to hear several steps of footsteps coming from outside their room. For a moment, Hotchkiss wondered how Carlyle had heard the intruders before him, but he realized the truth after a few seconds. While he was speaking, Carlyle''s ear was pressed against the train''s wall. He must have felt the approaching drum beat of marching soldiers far before he heard it.


    The footsteps stopped, and there was a deafening beat of silence. Like the eye of a hurricane, there was a moment of peace even though danger surrounded them in all directions. Then, this purgatory of unmoving silence was broken by the handle to the private room slowly beginning to turn.


    Carlyle exploded into action. He took one heavy step forward and kicked the door with the whole weight of his body behind the kick. The door flew open, and the man on the other side of the door was thrown back violently.


    On the other side of the door stood two men dressed in civilian clothing and armed with submachine guns. With the speed of a lunging snake, Hotchkiss''s saber flew forward and speared through one of the gunman''s wrists, immediately disabling his ability to fire his weapon.


    Simultaneously, Carlyle attacked the man who was still reeling from being smacked in the face with a heavy wooden door. Using the flat of his hunting knife as a fulcrum, he threw the dazed gunman to the ground and viciously kicked the submachine gun to the side.


    The prone man began to resist, but he was immediately greeted with the barrel of a loaded revolver pressed against his forehead. The second gunman looked around, desperately searching for his companion and saw Hotchkiss already in the process of handcuffing the other man''s hands behind his back.


    "The perimeter''s secure," Carlyle said after scanning the train car for other gunmen.


    "You, speak quickly," Carlyle said, looking down at the man he was holding in place with a knee on his chest. "Who do you work for?"


    Before the second gunman could respond, Hotchkiss answered the Colonel''s question by passing him a small metal pin that he had retrieved from the first gunman''s pocket. The letters R.L.F. were written in bright silver lettering on the pin.


    Every soldier stationed in the West Area knew that R.L.F. stood for the Riviere Liberation Front. It was a violent separatist organization that demanded for the "liberation" of land in the West and North that had been held by Amestris for three hundred years.

 Chapter 11 - [Hermes Trismegistus]

    "You''re a long way from Riviere," Carlyle said with a smirk as he pushed the barrel of his revolver into the gunman''s forehead.


    "Y-you don''t frighten me, military dog," the gunman said, though his point was undercut somewhat by his faltering voice.


    "Military dog, eh? So you know I''m a State Alchemist, and you still attacked us?"


    Just as Carlyle reached the end of his sentence, the gunman with the wounded wrist began to shout something. The man clearly intended to speak a word, but he was only able to get two letters into his proclamation before Hotchkiss silenced him with a firm hand clamped over the mouth. An instant later, Carlyle pressed his hand to the wounded gunman, and the faint spark of transmutation arced between his hand and the gunman''s arm.


    "What did you do to him?" the second gunman asked as his comrade slowly drifted into a drug-induced sleep.


    "Don''t worry about it," Carlyle said with a menacing edge to his voice. "Usually, I''d use this opportunity to tell you exactly how the R.L.F. is the dumbest of all terrorist organizations in our country, but I don''t have the time since there are clearly more of you. I''ll get straight to the point. How many of you are on this train? Why are you here?"


    "I''ll never¡­"


    Carlyle cut off the man''s denial with a question asked in a casual tone. "How much do you weigh?"


    "Wh-what? Why?"


    The State Alchemist flexed his gloved fingers at the frightened man. "I''m about to dose you with sodium thiopental, also known as ''truth serum.'' In larger doses, this drug is used to execute criminals, so I need to make sure I don''t use too much."


    "N-no." The gunman looked like he was about to vomit. He clearly did not have the calm disposition for this line of work. "Y-you don''t have to do that! I-I''ll tell you everything!"


    "Good," Carlyle said, pulling back his glove. "Now, speak."


    "There are five men from the R.L.F. and seven people from some other group that calls themselves ''the Order.'' We identify them by the specific symbol they always carry around in some form. It''s, uh, it''s kind of hard to explain."


    "Make an attempt," Carlyle ordered.


    "O-okay. The symbol is like a staff with two snakes and a bird."


    Even with that poor explanation, Carlyle immediately recognized the symbol. Any alchemist worth his salt would recognize that esoteric symbol on sight.Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    "The symbol of Hermes Trismegistus," Carlyle muttered.


    "Who?" Hotchkiss asked.


    "He was a student of the Philosopher of the East, the man who brought alchemy to Amestris in the 1400s. His symbol is a caduceus with an ibis sitting atop it, a mixture of the iconography of two ancient gods of knowledge, Hermes and Thoth. Alchemists call this symbol the bird of Hermes."


    "Uh huh," Hotchkiss said to cover up his lack of understanding. "So it''s an alchemical symbol."


    "Yes, it''s¡­" Carlyle cut himself off. He was annoyed that most of his explanation went over the other two men''s heads. When he stopped to calm himself for a moment, however, he realized that there was much significance in the fact that the symbol of this "Order" was alchemical in nature. A group of alchemists was working with an anti-Amestrian terrorist organization. Now, where had he heard that before?


    "Tell me more about that other organization," Carlyle quickly asked the prisoner.


    "All nine of them are alchemists, apparently," the gunman said, and Carlyle groaned in annoyance. "We were told that only two of them are good enough to use alchemy in a fight, though."


    "Among these alchemists, is one of them a woman with long red hair?"


    "Yes! The two combat alchemists aren''t subtle people, so the higher-ups were worried about letting them join this mission. As if the tattooed woman in the tank top was not obvious enough, the other alchemist is even stranger."


    "Yeah, skilled alchemists are always weird people. Normal people just don''t have the irregular perspective and neurotic hyper-focus required to grasp alchemy with enough clarity," Carlyle admitted. He glared at Hotchkiss as the Lieutenant''s lips turned upward in a shadow of a smile.


    "Get to the motive," Carlyle said as he waved the barrel of his revolver in the gunman''s face.


    "R-right, umm, we''re all after you, Colonel Carlyle."


    "Explain," Carlyle sighed.


    "The R.L.F. wants to take you hostage, and the Order wants to take back the notes you stole from them."


    Hotchkiss glared angrily at the mention of the word "steal," and the gunman slinked back in fear. The Order was once again after Kimblee''s notes, Carlyle remarked mentally as his hand reflexively brushed against the folded notes held within his coat pocket. It was strange, he thought. Why were they putting so much effort into acquiring the Crimson Alchemist''s documents when they knew enough to tattoo the applicable transmutation circles on a woman''s palms?


    The facts regarding this organization of rogue alchemists wasn''t adding up, but Carlyle pushed those thoughts to the back of his mind. The insurgents could answer his questions once they were all defeated and locked in a stockade with their hands bound in such a way to prevent transmutation.


    "Well, you have been a huge help," Carlyle said with a smile. "I''ll tell the police about this, and you might get out of prison in a year or two."


    "But¡­"


    Carlyle grabbed the gunman by the neck, and he swiftly performed a subtle bit of medical alchemy. With the slightest expenditure of will, Carlyle created a single milligram of etorphine inside of the gunman''s jugular. In a single heartbeat, the powerful sedative was washed into the man''s brain, and he was unconscious within seconds.


    Seeing that no one else seemed keen on bothering the two soldiers, they began to drag the two unconscious gunmen into their personal room. As Hotchkiss laid one of the men down on a bench he had been sitting on a few minutes before, he asked Carlyle a question.


    "Truth serum, eh? I didn''t know it was real."


    "It''s not," Carlyle said, smirking. "Good thing he bought my bluff."

 Chapter 12 - [Erasmus the Magician]

    As the two soldiers walked toward the front of the train, Carlyle flipped out the cylinder of his revolver and checked the bullets he had loaded therein. Four of the bullets were marked with thin green lines, and two bullets were marked with black lines. The green lines denoted Body Alteration Rounds, and the black lines denoted Iron Alteration Rounds. Carlyle rotated the cylinder slightly so that the Body Alteration Rounds would be chambered before the other two.


    After slapping the cylinder closed, Carlyle twirled his revolver and holstered it at his hip. Any combat on the train would probably take place at extremely close range, and the revolver would just get in the way. Plus, he could unholster the revolver within three-tenths of a second, if necessary.


    The State Alchemist flexed his fingers in preparation. The glove of his left hand contained a medical transmutation circle, whereas the glove of his right hand contained an alteration matrix made to interface with steel and other iron alloys. Considering that he was essentially trapped within a cylinder made primarily of steel, Carlyle knew this ferric transmutation circle would be indispensable.


    Before Carlyle and Hotchkiss could reach the door leading to the next train car, a voice began to speak over the train''s intercom.


    "Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen. This is your host, Erasmus the Magician, and I am here to inform you of today''s itinerary. You see, my compatriots and me have taken this train hostage, and we will detonate a bomb if all of our demands are not followed thoroughly." The man, Erasmus, spoke with the upbeat conviction of a radio show announcer, even when he threatened to kill everyone aboard the train. "Don''t worry, though, my beloved audience. We don''t want to hurt or rob you. Well, not most of you. We''re here for just one man: Commander Simon Carlyle of the West Area. As for the rest of you, none will be harmed as long as you follow my directions."


    Erasmus cleared his throat before continuing at an even louder volume. "If all of you would be so kind, please make your way to the two cars at the rear of the train. You will know you''ve gone far enough when you pass by my lovely assistant, Miriam. Make sure to take all bags, I.D.''s, clothing, and children with you at this time. You will not be returning to your seat. Thank you."


    The two soldiers looked at each other in confusion. There were many questions on Carlyle''s mind. Why would the hijackers surrender the advantage granted to them by their hostages? What was Miriam going to do with the train''s passengers?


    Carlyle did not have time to voice these questions, however, as a flood of concerned civilians began to filter into their train car a few seconds later. Many of the passengers recognized Carlyle from his photograph that had been included in many recent newspapers, and the flow of foot traffic was slowed as many people stopped to speak to him with frightened or rebellious words. The Colonel attempted to move them along by providing short, clipped responses.Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.


    "Will you be alright, Mr. Carlyle?"


    "Yes, ma''am."


    "Beat the shit out of those terrorists!"


    "I''ll try."


    "Let me come with you! I can fight!"


    "Join the military first, son."


    Colonel Carlyle''s eyes lingered on the child for a moment as his mother pulled him away. The boy couldn''t have been older than thirteen years old, yet he was asking to fight a group of dangerous insurgents. Carlyle was more than ten years older than the boy, and he still felt like a child sometimes.


    The thought of a thirteen year old fighting against men armed with machine guns seemed absurd to Carlyle, but he couldn''t fool himself into thinking that such a thing was impossible. Edward Elric was made a State Alchemist at twelve years old. Now, four years later, he was still just a child.


    Even if Edward Elric was found to be tied to Fuhrer King Bradley''s death, Carlyle was unsure of what he would do. The boy might have been pulled into the conspiracy by his commanding officer, Roy Mustang. No matter the circumstance, Carlyle could not see himself pursuing sanctions against the Elric brothers. All he could feel was pity toward two children who were forced to do the military''s bidding before they could rightfully be called teenagers. Hopefully, the new Fuhrer, whoever he was, would put a stop to such things.


    Carlyle was pulled out of his thoughts by the telltale sound of a foot slapping against the ground before an attack. He blinked and saw one of the people among the fleeing passengers was charging at him with the intent to tackle. This problem was immediately increased as Carlyle realized that five other men standing nearby were glaring at him with malicious intent clear in their eyes.


    The Colonel''s hand shot forward, and he grabbed the first attacker by the throat. There was a flash of light as he put a milligram of etorphine into the attacker''s jugular, but this failed to arrest the man''s forward momentum. The attacker crashed into Carlyle with enough force to knock him on his back, and he only had half a second to act before he would end up on the ground with an unconscious man on top of him.


    There were five remaining attackers, and Carlyle''s hand was still wrapped around the first man''s throat. Using the transmutation circle made for steel alteration was not an option. Any alchemy that could neutralize the five attackers at once would end up killing several innocent passengers as well. The only option available for Carlyle was to neutralize as many attackers as he could and leave the rest for Hotchkiss to deal with.


    The revolver jumped to Carlyle''s hand, and he shot one of the remaining attackers in the stomach. The man''s intestines were perforated, and the piercing bullet created a cloud of diffuse etorphine a few centimeters below his stomach before striking the steel wall of the train, leaving a pattern of scattering blood.


    Before Carlyle could fire again, the momentum of the first attacker pushed him backward, and he landed hard on his back. He struggled against the dead weight of the unconscious man as the sound of Hotchkiss engaged in a furious melee rang in his ears. Hotchkiss was the only bulwark preventing Carlyle''s capture by a dangerous terrorist organization. If the four men reached him and were able to strip him of his gloves and revolver, he would be powerless.

 Chapter 13 - [Another Vacation Ruined]

    Colonel Simon Carlyle continued to struggle in vain against the unconscious man. He simply didn''t have the leverage to quickly move the man who was about twenty kilograms heavier than him. In a moment of weakness, he briefly considered using alchemy to lift the body. Carlyle could do it quite easily, he realized. All he had to do was transmute the carbon in the body into diffuse charcoal. He would be able to escape, though the process would obviously kill the man.


    The unconscious man remained whole, and Carlyle decided to have mercy on the man. He refused to be the first person to escalate this fight into lethality. After more than six seconds of struggling, an eternity in hand-to-hand combat, Carlyle managed to push the body off, freeing himself from the grapple.


    Immediately jumping up onto one knee, he raised his revolver and leveled it toward the ongoing sound of combat. Hotchkiss was still on his feet, and he had neutralized two of the remaining attackers with attacks from his saber. Though the Lieutenant had done relatively well in the fight, he was now unarmed. His saber had become stuck in one of the disabled attackers'' shoulders, and he was forced to engage with the two remaining attackers with nothing but his fists.


    Blood ran from the Lieutenant''s mouth as he guarded against the merciless assault by the two remaining attackers. The two men were standing sideways to Carlyle, so any shot he landed on them would probably be fatal. These guys were way below his pay grade, so he once again decided to show mercy.


    "Hey!" Carlyle shouted as he pulled back his revolver''s hammer.


    The two men turned toward his voice automatically, surprised that he had rejoined the fight. Not giving the men a chance to act, Carlyle pulled the trigger and shot one of the men in the shoulder. Sparks shot out of the man''s wound, and he barely had enough time to shoot a horrified look at his comrade before he fell to the ground.


    The final attacker was swiftly dispatched with a punch to the jaw from Hotchkiss. In his attempt to defend against Carlyle, he had completely forgotten about the man with whom he was currently engaged in a fist fight.


    Once the final attacker was neutralized, Carlyle allowed his senses to spread out and capture the surrounding scene. Several dozen screaming passengers had coagulated at both ends of the train car, though their screams were barely audible over the ringing in his ears caused by the deafening blast of a gunshot in an enclosed area.


    The passengers were trying to escape the train car, but the exits were so narrow that only one person could pass through at a time. In their frantic need to escape, some of the smaller passengers were being crushed by the heavy weight of bodies.


    Making a quick judgment call, Carlyle decided that the train car was secure, and he returned his revolver to its holster.Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.


    "It''s okay!" Carlyle called out. "We''re safe for now."


    The large crowd of people calmed significantly upon hearing Carlyle''s statement. They began to disperse somewhat, allowing those caught in the crush of bodies to breathe. As the crowd dispersed, Carlyle saw as several people fell to the ground, gripping wounds they had sustained as a result of the fleeing crowd.


    "Shit," Carlyle swore under his breath as he looked at the half dozen wounded people on the ground. He knew enough about medical alchemy to provide some clumsy first aid, but it would take several minutes to heal those people. If he stopped long enough to heal them, that would give Miriam and Erasmus more than enough time to surround him.


    "Is anyone here a doctor!?" Carlyle asked the crowd of people, though he was not optimistic that he would get a favorable answer.


    There was a general murmuring from the crowd in response. Just as Carlyle prepared himself to quickly perform surgery on seven people, he heard another a loud sigh come from a nearby private room.


    "Damn it. Another vacation ruined by a State Alchemist."


    The door opened, and an older man with glasses and lightly graying hair stepped out into the hallway. The man glared at the hallway filled with injured people, and his expression was filled with obvious disdain.


    "I guess you could call me a doctor," the man said as he reached into a large messenger bag at his side and produced a handful of medical tools.


    After a long pause, Carlyle recognized the man, and he had to stop himself from saluting. The man standing in front of him was Dr. Knox, the army surgeon. Carlyle didn''t recognize the man immediately, since it had been seven years since they met last.


    "You''re Dr. Knox," Carlyle said, blinking.


    "What, do I owe ya money or something? Get out of the way."


    "No, we''ve, uh," Colonel Carlyle paused to clear his dry throat, "we''ve met before. "I was, uh, a private at the time."


    Dr. Knox turned to look at Carlyle for a second, and a crack appeared in his facade of anger for less than a second before his expression returned to normal. It was clear to Carlyle that he was suddenly reminded of things that he would prefer to forget.


    "Yeah, I remember," Dr. Knox said, scowling. "You''re the kid that kept asking me stupid questions instead of actually guarding the hospital."


    "I integrated your work into my alchemy, you know. I decided to specialize in medical alchemy because¡­"


    "Aren''t you in the middle of something?" Dr. Knox said as he knelt down next to one of the attackers that Hotchkiss had slashed with his saber.


    "Right. When we get to West City, let''s talk."


    "Absolutely not," Dr. Knox grunted.


    As he spoke, Hotchkiss turned to the man who he had stabbed in the shoulder with his sword and began to reach for the hilt.


    "Don''t pull the sword out unless you want him to bleed to death," Dr. Knox muttered, and the Lieutenant stopped in his tracks.


    In response, Hotchkiss looked over at Carlyle who gestured for his subordinate to just let the issue drop. The two men began to walk forward in the train once more, and Carlyle transmuted a piece of the train''s wall into a flat single-bladed cavalry saber. The sword had a simple design, and a bayonet guard was built into the hand guard so that it could be attached to a rifle if the wielder wanted.


    Hotchkiss thought to comment on this strange design choice but kept his mouth shut. They would certainly engage once more with the enemy soon, and there would be plenty of time for him to question his superior''s eccentricities in the future.

 Chapter 14 - [A Soldiers Obligation]

    The two soldiers stepped out of the train car into the open air between the cars. Hair and unsecured fabric fluttered in the heavy wind, and Carlyle grimaced as he realized that the train had accelerated. Erasmus must have forced the operators to take the train to full speed. The train began to turn, and the two men had to brace themselves on the external handrails to stop themselves from falling off.


    Colonel Carlyle took a small piece of chalk out of his pocket and quickly scrawled a transmutation circle on the area just outside of the rear door of the next train car. The transmutation circle was an alteration matrix keyed to interface with silicon dioxide and iron-carbon alloys. Chemically speaking, this type of alchemy was much more complicated than the type that Carlyle was used to. Most of the alchemy he performed involved complicated changes in the physical form of chemically simple objects.


    The transmutation circle activated, and the train''s exterior began to shift and change. A nearby window was pulled into the alchemical process, and it morphed into a new shape over several seconds. Once the sparks of creation ceased, a long metal tube had been built into the train''s bulkhead. The tube was a periscope that contained several pieces of polished glass at such an angle that one could see inside of the cabin without having to actually stand inside.


    Carlyle looked through the periscope, and he saw what he expected to see. Three men aimed submachine guns in the direction of the door, and another three men stood elsewhere in the cabin, slowly writing clumsy transmutation circles on the walls and floor.


    The Colonel looked over at his subordinate and slowly shook his head. Every soldier in the world knew that assaulting a fortified position filled with armed men was a bad move. He knelt down, making sure no one inside of the cabin could see him. The fact that the men inside hadn''t started shooting yet was concerning, Carlyle thought. They knew to wait until he and Hotchkiss made their move to reveal their trap.


    A gloved hand brushed against the heavy chain connecting the two train cars, and Carlyle transmuted the steel within the chain into its most brittle form. Within a second, the weight pulling on the chain caused it to snap, decoupling the rear half of the train from the front half. Carlyle watched the train car holding his toothbrush and clothes slowly decelerate and fall behind the car he knelt upon.


    When the rear train cars were more than fifty meters back, a hazy figure with the unmistakable silhouette of Miriam, the female alchemist, appeared. A part of Carlyle would have preferred for her to show herself before they were out of shouting distance. He would have liked to verbally revel in his second victory over the female alchemist.


    "Come on," Carlyle said once he was confident that Miriam was too far back to do anything. A transmuted pillar of steel could only reach a certain distance before it collapsed under its own weight. "Let''s climb onto the roof."A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.


    A fearful look appeared on the Lieutenant''s face, but he regained his composure after a moment. With a sigh, he said, "Another day in paradise."


    "Yep," Carlyle responded with a madman''s smile.


    The two men climbed up the external ladder and slowly began crawling across the steel rooftop. Tree branches and railroad signs flew overhead at high speed, and the two soldiers could do little more than cover their heads when the train threw them through a tapestry of green leaves.


    Once they were through the low-hanging branch, Carlyle spat out a leaf and brushed a few pine needles out of his coat.


    "With respect, sir," Hotchkiss said in a tone that was as far from respect as possible, "I didn''t expect to be doing something like this when General Schneider assigned me to a murder investigation."


    "It is the venerated obligation of a soldier to follow the insane, pointless commands of a superior officer," Carlyle said, quoting an ancient Amestrian poet.


    "I guess I should consider myself lucky, then," Hotchkiss shouted over the wind in an attempt to ignore the danger of their current situation.


    "Why''s that?"


    "Usually, the insane superior is sitting in his office while his inferiors do his bidding. I have the rare honor of standing beside my superior while carrying out his stupid orders."


    "Laying, technically," Carlyle said, gesturing to their prone bodies.


    Hotchkiss allowed a sardonic laugh to escape his lips, and the two men continued crawling. Miraculously, they eventually reached the other side of the train car, and they frantically scrambled down onto the other side. Carlyle and Hotchkiss jumped onto the next train car, and Carlyle quickly detached the previous car with alchemy as he did before.


    As the train car holding six anti-Amestrian insurgents began to decelerate, Carlyle performed another act of alchemy, causing a large sheet of steel to be interposed between the two soldiers and the insurgents. This shield saw use after a few seconds as gunshots began to ring out, and a staccato of plinking bullets could be heard from the other side of the metal slab.


    Carlyle took several deep breaths to steady his breathing before saying, "That was much harder than I thought it would be. They do that all the time in adventure novels, and it always seems so easy."


    "Train roofs aren''t meant to be climbed on when the train is moving at full speed."


    "I know that conceptually, but experiencing it was very different. Honestly, I was expecting there to be handles on the side."


    "Well," Hotchkiss sighed as the hail of bullets began to subside, "at least it''s over. Hopefully, we won''t ever have to do that again."


    "Hopefully."


    Carlyle peered over the side of the train and looked forward. With the decoupling of the other train cars, only three cars remained. He stood on the last remaining passenger car, and the only cars in front of him were the storage car and the engine.


    A small part of his mind held out hope that all of the insurgents remained in the decoupled train cars, but the pragmatic corner of his brain told him that was a pipe dream. Within seconds, Carlyle''s pessimism was confirmed as the unmistakable sound of Erasmus the Magician''s voice called out from inside of the cabin.


    "Colonel Simon Carlyle, it''s good to finally meet you. I hope my assistants didn''t give you too much trouble."

 Chapter 15 - [The Father of Alchemy]

    Slowly, Carlyle gestured for Hotchkiss to open the door to the last passenger car. Without showing any part of his body to anyone standing inside of the car, Hotchkiss slid the heavy metal door open and held it open as the high-speed wind caused his uniform to flutter in the wind.


    "You know," Carlyle said as he began reloading his revolver, "I have much bigger problems to deal with right now. Believe it or not, your little organization of rogue alchemists is the third or fourth item on my to-do list. How about this? Because I have bigger problems, I''ll give you the opportunity to escape. If you let us through, I''ll just detach your train car, and you can run away once you run out of momentum."


    "I''m afraid that''s not going to happen, Colonel," Erasmus called out, a subtle chuckle hiding in the corner of his spoken words. "We need those notes. Millions could die without the information included therein."


    Carlyle squinted in confusion over at Hotchkiss, and the Lieutenant returned his look with a shrug. "What do you mean?" Carlyle asked. "How can the notes of a bomb maker save lives?"


    "It''s somewhat hard to understand you, friend. Why don''t you step inside the cabin so that we can have a conversation like respectable gentlemen? On my honor as an alchemist, I promise not to attack until our dialogue has ended."


    Colonel Carlyle paused for a long moment before making a decision. Slowly, he rose from his kneeling position, and he stepped into the cabin. After a few seconds, he could tell from the cautious footsteps behind him that Hotchkiss had followed him into the lion''s den.


    The entirety of the final passenger car had been remade with alchemy. The upholstered wooden benches that passengers used as seats had been completely removed, and all that remained was the hollow metal shell that comprised the exterior of the train cabin. In the center of the cabin was a large steel pillar that was decorated with a fresco made of colored glass, and an eccentrically dressed man stood beside the pillar.


    After a moment, Carlyle realized that the image of the man he saw was actually a reflection, and the eccentric alchemist was actually standing behind the pillar. Like an illusion from a house of mirrors, Carlyle had to strain his senses to determine Erasmus''s true position. Beyond the pillar and the mirror, nearly a dozen playing cards had been scattered throughout the cabin. It was hard to tell at a distance, but Carlyle soon realized that each of the playing cards was marked with a complicated transmutation circle. The cards were scattered haphazardly throughout the cabin, so it would be quite difficult to walk across the cabin without stepping on one of the playing cards.If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    Regarding Erasmus himself, his appearance truly lived up to his "magician" moniker. He wore the red-and-black uniform of a stage magician, though his formal attire was supplemented with a long cape, a black top hat, and a bone white mask that covered half of his face. If not for the obvious signs of recent complicated acts of transmutation, Carlyle would have been convinced that Erasmus was a fraud who only pretended to be a skilled alchemist. As it was, Carlyle only had to take a glance to realize that he was the real deal, despite all appearances.


    The fresco on the pillar caught Carlyle''s attention just as much as the rogue alchemist''s eccentric clothing. It depicted two men speaking to another. One, a blond man in ancient robes, raised his hand as if speaking passionately. The other, a man leaning against a caduceus upon which stood an ibis, leaned forward to the blond man as if listening intently.


    In an instant, Carlyle recognized the listener as Hermes Trismegistus. The fresco clearly depicted the relationship as a student and teacher, so Carlyle was able to deduce that the blond man must have been the teacher of Hermes Trismegistus, the Philosopher of the East.


    Deciding to wait for an opportunity to strike, Carlyle lowered his revolver and said, "So that''s the symbol of your ''Order,'' right? Hermes Trismegistus and the Philosopher of the East? I hate to be the one to tell you this, but your portrayal of the Philosopher is wrong. He''s from the East. You know, Xing? He wouldn''t have blond hair."


    "That''s a common misconception," Erasmus said with an annoyingly undisturbed smile. "One would naturally assume that the Father of Alchemy was Xingese, but all eye-witness reports of people who met him say the same thing: that he had golden hair and eyes."


    A moment of realization hit Carlyle like a truck, though he tried mightily not to let it show on his face. He had completely forgotten that the Philosopher of the East frequently went by another title: the Father of Alchemy. Father.


    Colonel Carlyle recalled the testimony of Elias Miller. A blond man dressed in ancient white robes who went by the name ''Father'' had died in Central on April 4th.


    No, that was impossible, he thought. The Philosopher of the East would be nearly five hundred years old if that were true. It was possible, however, if the ancient stories about the Philosopher''s Stone could be believed. According to legend, the Philosopher''s Stone could do two things in defiance of the law of Equivalent Exchange: transmute lead into gold and make someone immortal.


    That would be a problem for later, Carlyle thought as he cleared his mind and returned to the present. He could not act on that realization if this magician killed him in the next few minutes.


    "Explain yourself," Carlyle demanded. "How can you use Kimblee''s notes to save lives?"


    As Carlyle said the words "Kimblee''s notes," he reached into a deep pocket in his overcoat and withdrew a large leather-bound parcel wrapped around nearly a hundred folded pieces of paper.


    "You brought them," Erasmus said with a wolfish grin. "Good. There is a conspiracy in this country to harm its denizens in furtherance of a malevolent goal."


    "Sounds like politics," Carlyle muttered, and Hotchkiss let out a snort of laughter. "If you want to convince me, you need to be a lot more specific."