The Gunslinger Alchemist (Fullmetal Alchemist Fanfiction)

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 Unless Schneider later rescinded these commands, Carlyle and every other officer below the rank of lieutenant general would have to follow these orders within a reasonable amount of time.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?"

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.