Mustang supervised some basic drills during the mid-day break In the march. Even simple activities like erecting a sandbag barricade would be better to learn now than when your position was being charged by unmade horrors. To their credit, the volunteer soldiers proved to be quite applied to the task. By this point the reality of the agreement they had signed up for was landing, and the nerves were only going to grow the closer they reached to the front lines. It was a focus born of desperation, and Mustang did not intend to let it go to waste.
He stalked back and forth amidst the shouts of drill sergeants offering comments and praise where appropriate to keep the soldiers engaged with the proper aspects of the task. The accents and voices were foreign, but the
feel of a military academy was still very much present in the air. The smell of sweat and the collective concentration of attention had a palpable aura, even in such an impromptu setting as this. It was with a faint smile of satisfaction that Mustang reached the end of his circuit. Glancing to one side he noticed the young mage Izaneus his fingers wreathed in a dancing flame as he practiced his arcane arts. Mustang strode over to him, hands in the pockets of his uniform. He offered a nod of greeting when the young mage noted his approach.
"It’s a good heat." the State alchemist noted, watching the flame the young man was creating, "You can maintain a flame like that for a long while with just the natural flow of air.”
Izaneus looked at him with a raised eyebrow. “I agree. It helps work the ache out of your muscles.” As he spoke, the young man tossed his arm up lightly. Two lengths of flame arced upwards from his fingers, spiraling around each other before forming into a coiling ball of heat and light which Izaneus caught in his hand again with a smile.
Mustang nodded. “Fire is a versatile tool, and I’ll admit that I am fond of it.” He pulled one hand from his pocket, displaying the transmutation circle inked into the back of his glove. “The most important aspect of fire is its control. Fire is rage and power, if you wield it too brazenly you will end up regretting it. Your fire will burn everything you allow it to. It’s a hungry mouth, ready and waiting for a bone to be thrown its way.”
Mustang turned his attention to a nearby bush, growing green and lush. He held up the ignition clothed hand.
*Snap*
A conflagration engulfed the shrub, but Mustang’s alchemy had created a dead space of oxygen between the plant itself and the sudden flames. His alchemical fire greedily consumed the concentrated oxygen he had manipulated, and when the inferno abated seconds later, the bush remained intact. It’s leaves moved as the air currents readjusted in the wake of the combustion.
“ If you want to seize the power of fire, you must make sure it will burn
precisely what you plan it will.”
*Snap*
A thin trail of alchemical light arced forwards this time, and one lone leaf of the bush ignited instantly, burning to ash within seconds. Mustang turned back to Izaneus with a faint smile.
“Now let me see what you can m-” He cut off as a rumble echoed through the camp. Tents swayed and trees rattled as branches scraped one another.
Something had occurred to the South. Judging by the tremors, something important as well. For the briefest of moments, Mustang was back in the train on Cevanti. The moment before the power of their planet's arbiter had nearly heralded the end of life as they knew it. He braced for the screaming to start, but as quickly as the shockwave struck, it dissipated back into idle wind. The mage Izaneus glanced about with clear unease, his flames constricting into thin licks as he eyed the surroundings. Mustang frowned, his eyes turning southwards.
“What the hell was
that?” Mustang's question trailed off as one of the sergeants arrived with a breathless messenger in tow. Her sense of urgency was tangible even from a distance.
---
“Dammit! What does that bastard think he’s doing! Executing messengers?” Mustang slammed a hand onto the table, taking only a little solace in the solid impact.
They had relocated to the command tent, where the messenger woman, Scáthach, had outlined a distinctly different report than the one Gilgamesh had sent him that morning.
“They
are the enemy.” Lieutenant Violet offered from one side of the tent, though she was scowling as she spoke. “He’s not incorrect to defend his men.”
“If he had detained them that would be one thing.” Mustang growled, propping his elbows on the desk and holding his hands together in thought, “But this behavior is no better than they would have received from an Unmaking force. I will not allow us to sink to that level.”
After a moment’s consideration he looked towards his other lieutenant, who was pacing the room with something akin to nervous energy.
“Lieutenant Mirage. I have a task for you. “ The pilot paused, glancing up with a hint of apprehension before his characteristic smile returned.
“Oh yeah?”
“Take Sergeant Scáthach and some men to deliver a personal message from me to our general in gold. Tell him that we are not Unmaking, nor are we imitators of their savagery. He has defended his position as requested, and is to be commended for such. However, if he continues to flaunt lives in this manner, I will see him removed from his position personally."
The Apex legend seemed to think better of the quip he was halfway to voicing, giving a nod instead.
"Will do, boss."
"Lieutenant Uzumaki, prepare to press forwards. It seems the front lines may be forming without us. That is all!”
Mustang took a deep breath after the pair exited the tent. He had known that Gilgamesh would be likely to cause trouble, but he had assumed the man realized the position they were in enough that he would not let vanity dictate his plans to this extent. He ground his knuckles against the table, looking at the map in front of him. If they started squabbling with the Hell divers in force down at the south of the island, then Unmaking forces would have little resistance to an assault on their territory from the north. If he continued to ignore the problem Gilgamesh was presenting, he had little doubt it would only continue to grow. He was already disparaging his lieutenants in his correspondence, even before this most recent whistle-blowing.
Dammit. He needed to do
something.
His mind made up, Mustang swept away from the map and began shouting orders for the force to get back on the march.