Hopelessly (In)Humane | FMAB Reader-Insert

3. A Death Sentence

     His eyes go wide. After a few breaths, he's steady enough on his feet, you let go. "I..." He looks right at you but then breaks eye contact and looks down. "I didn't tell them." His words are barely over a whisper. "I didn't tell them what happened to the alchemists before them. It's my fault. I don't even know what Arzen does... I just... I just know about what's left after the process is over." His face pales as his fists clench. "It isn't much."

     You close your eyes and breathe out. 'It was probably a rebound.' Alchemy is first and foremost a scientific study, but some people seem to think it's sorcery. Alchemists aren't magic, they aren't gods—and rebounds are there to remind them of that. 'No one would risk such a dangerous transmutation for nothing... There has to be more to this.' You glance back at the mansion, at the ominous presence that's been bothering you all day. It has to have something to do with that.

     A shadowy tendril tugs on your leg. Speaking of ominous presences—your lips pull into a faint smile—Selim's got perfect timing. Beneath you, the two dimensional figures stretch out with ease. You thought the desert sun would be too bright for Selim's ability, but that's not the case, if anything, he has more mobility than ever. Fortunately, Sascha is too preoccupied by his grief to notice the shifting shadows. From the dark depths one crimson colored eye opens to peer expectantly at you. Selim's surprisingly willing to help you on these missions, but only if you ask, and only if it's on his terms.

     It's amazing how many people you can send to their death with a single nod.

     And nod you do. A thin line stretches across one of the shadows, which parts to reveal jagged teeth. The lopsided grin is shaped uncannily like a scythe's blade. "I'll see you soon." He leaves with that soft promise, but it's just loud enough to snap Sascha out of his stupor.

     "Did you hear something?" He blinks and looks around, and to his knowledge, there's nothing beside the two of you.

     "I asked if you wouldn't mind doing me a favor?" You lie smoothly.

     Sascha blinks and tilts his head. "Sure, what is it?"

     "Do you know who's involved in Arzen's crimes or not? Or at least, do you know someone that would know?"

     "I... I think so. My parents have a few friends at the base."

     "Good. Talk to them."—

     "Major Hughes!" Tch. That much be Arzen.

     —"It'll be the deciding factor as to who's executed alongside Arzen," you state, just before the bastard's within hearing distance. Sascha's still left wide eyed by your statement, but he tries his best to throw on a neutral expression—albeit he ends up looking slightly constipated.

     You glance over at Arzen. He's rat-faced as one might expect, with greasy looking black hair just past his shoulders and a distinctive widow's peak. His goatee makes him look like the villains in old Xingese fairy-tales.

     "I have to say, I wasn't expecting your visit!" He struggles to catch his breath, dabbing at his forehead with a silk handkerchief.

     "Ah, Major Arzen, it's a pleasure to meet you. It wouldn't be much of a surprise if you were expecting me." You plaster a friendly smile on to lower his guard, it's an art you've mastered well—it helps that you're so young and look so unthreatening. "I was just telling Private Sascha here to gather a group of men he trusts and to receive a friend of mine from the train station."

     "A friend?" Arzen forces his slit-thin eyes open. "And who may that be, if you don't mind my inquiring?"

     "Selim Bradley, Führer King Bradley's son." They go silent. "It's a very important task, and I've come to trust Private Sascha in the time I've spoken to him, so I entrusted him with the task of selecting others to welcome Selim. I hope it's not too much of an inconvenience."