Chapter Text
Riza approached General Grumman’s open door and knocked. “You wanted to see me, sir?”
“Yes. Come in, have a seat.” Grumman gestured to the chair in front of his desk. “I received an intriguing message this morning.”
Riza sat, eying him with concerned interest. “Something regarding me?”
Grumman leaned back in his chair, peaking his fingers. “Yes, a request for your transfer.”
Riza furrowed her brow. “To where?”
“Major General Armstrong has requested your re-assignment to Fort Briggs.” He paused, but Hawkeye had no response. “I’m leaving that decision up to you. Briggs is a harsh place and General Armstrong is a harsher leader. You say the word and I can tell her no. She won’t like it, but she won’t have a choice. You don’t have to give me an answer now. It’s a big decision, take some time to consider.”
Riza thought for a moment. East Command was one of the best units in Amestris, but even they were nearly always bested by the soldiers at Briggs. She’d possibly be put to real use on the border if the tenuous truce with Drachma was ever breached. She would leave Mustang, but General Armstrong wanted her—and she did not collect unnecessary things. Her request meant that she saw benefit to Riza, specifically, being at the wall. Worst case, she could always ask Grumman to order her transfer back to East Command. She weighed the decision, trying to sight down each path as far as she could. She was faced with one difficult thought. What was ultimately more important to her; Mustang’s future or her own?
Her resolve solidified. Riza was never one to take the easy track. “When am I expected to leave, sir?” She asked calmly.
Grumman gave her a sad smile. He would miss her, and not just as a soldier. Briggs was not an easy place to live and General Armstrong was hard to impress. He had no doubts that Riza could succeed, but was worried about the toll it might take on her. “You’re to take the supply train heading north the day after tomorrow.”
She nodded, already prioritizing a packing list in her head.
Grumman let the silence sit before asking, “Would you like me to tell Mustang?”
Riza softened. “No, it was my decision, I’ll do it, sir. He should hear it from me.”
“All right. I’ll send the word along to Briggs. I give you leave to take the time to get your things in order. Good luck, Hawkeye.”
“Thank you, sir.” The next conversation would be less pleasant, but Roy would do better to hear it from her. She owed it to him for the blow to come from her.
Hawkeye made her way to Mustang’s office. She wished the walk was longer to give her more time to think how best to break it to him. But it was just down the hall and around the corner.
Riza stopped in his doorway. “Are you busy, Colonel?”
“I just have a ton of paperwork to get through, so no, not at all.” Roy smirked at her.
Riza closed the door to give them privacy. She was especially tense. “I just spoke with General Grumman, I’m to be transferred to Fort Briggs. The request came this morning from General Armstrong.” The smirk faded as he steepled his fingers. Riza could see his mental gears turning as he clenched his jaw. “Sir.”
Mustang seethed at his desk, grinding his teeth in stubborn silence.
“You’ll be fine without me.” Riza tried to assure him.
Roy jumped to his feet. “She’s only requesting your transfer to get to me by taking you away.”
Riza stiffened. “I’m the best sniper in Amestris and the General has a reputation for requesting the best soldiers to defend the border and protect the country.” Her voice was cool. “Of course she would want me on the wall, sir.”
Roy paced the room, angry energy forcing him to move. “She doesn’t need you there. No one breaks the Northern Wall.”
“And it will be that much more impenetrable with the Hawk’s Eye defending it.” Riza watched Roy stalk around his office, trying to figure a way to change her mind. “Sir, I’ve made my decision.”
Roy stopped and looked at Riza standing resolute. He knew that look in her eye. “You already told him yes, didn’t you?”
Riza stared straight ahead. “Yes, sir.”
Riza spent the next day and a half gathering her things in order. She decided it was worth keeping her apartment in East City just to have a place for herself when she got leave. Or in case she needed to come back. It also meant she didn’t have to deal with trying to store or sell her things. But there was one thing that needed to be handled.
“Come here, boy.” She called over Black Hayate. Riza knelt to scratch behind his ears. “Mommy’s going away for a while. You’re going to stay with Uncle Roy for a bit. And then he’s going to give you to a very good friend with a little girl.”
Hayate cocked his head.
“I’ll miss you, boy. But you’ll have a great time with Elicia.” She scratched his chin.
Hayate jumped up on her knees to lick her face, seemingly excited by the prospect.
Riza clipped his leash on. “All right, Hayate, let’s go.” He gave a small yap and wagged his tail.
Mustang met her on the train platform. “You’ll be miserable up there, you know?” If he couldn’t convince her to stay, he could at least prove he’d known better when she finally came to her senses.
“Maybe. But then you’ll have the satisfaction of being right.” Riza shouldered her pack. “Orders are orders.”
Roy scoffed. “You’ve never had a problem disobeying mine.”
“Only when it was best.” Riza half-smiled at him.
“And this is what’s best?” Roy asked, a sadness hiding behind his eyes.
Riza didn’t answer. Best for him, no. Best for her? Probably. If any high-ranking officer specifically requested her, it could only be to her benefit. For the Ice Queen of Briggs to desire her transfer… it would absolutely be in her interest to oblige.
“Right.” Roy wasn’t stupid.
The train whistle blew, giving warning of its impending departure. Riza knelt to say goodbye to Hayate. “You’re a good boy. You be good for them, too. Okay?” She stroked his head and kissed him on the nose.
Riza stood and handed the leash to Roy. “Take care of him, sir. Goodbye, Colonel.” She saluted.
“I will, I promise. Good luck, Lieutenant.” Mustang saluted as she boarded.
Riza took a spot in the personnel car and settled in for the ride up north.
Hawkeye rode the train up through Central, where they unloaded some supplies and picked up most of what Briggs had requested. As they made their way northward, the landscape changed from the population-dense structures of Central to open plains of green and gold, and then into snowy white as far as the eye could see. Buildings began to poke through the sea of white, sporadically at first, slowly growing in concentration.
The train pulled into the station at North City, where a dozen Briggs soldiers had come to unload the freight. They packed everything onto trucks for the drive up to the fort; Riza was given a seat in the back of the front cargo truck, with the majority of the soldiers. She felt out of place in her blue uniform amongst the men all dressed in white. They didn’t speak much, but they were cordial and happy enough to welcome Hawkeye into their brotherhood.
Unlike the soldiers, the landscape was cold and empty. There was nothing but snow and ice for miles in any direction. Standing tall in the distance, creeping ever closer, were the mountains of Briggs. A dark steel form began to take shape between the rocky peaks as the trucks ate up the miles. Fort Briggs loomed near: her home for the foreseeable future.
Olivier sat at her desk going over Hawkeye’s transfer paperwork. Endless hours of paperwork followed for the most mundane of tasks; it occasionally made her wish it would drown her. But then, that would only mean more paperwork. Everything in the file was in order, so she gave her final signature.
Major Miles, thankfully, interrupted. “Sir, the train reached North City and the trucks are on their way.”
“Thank you, Miles. Go down and see that everything is ready for their approach. I’ll meet you down there before they get here.”
“Yes, sir.” He nodded.
Olivier was looking forward to Hawkeye’s arrival, but there was no sense in her standing around for nearly an hour. She busied herself with office work until the time came to be in place for an appropriate first impression on her new officer. First impressions were lasting, after all.
The trucks rolled through the bay door into a large hangar. As soon as they came to a stop, the men jumped out and immediately started to offload the supplies onto carts to be distributed throughout the fort. Hawkeye hopped down and pulled her bags from the back of the truck.
Olivier Armstrong stood at the top of a long ramp, watching over their entrance from above. Her hands clasped casually atop the pommel of her sword, which was held out in front of her, the tip of the scabbard against the concrete. “Welcome to Fort Briggs, Lieutenant Hawkeye.” She announced.
Riza snapped to attention and her eyes set on General Armstrong. The wind billowing through the open hangar door whipped her long coat and pale blonde hair around her in a whirlwind of azure and gold. Her fierce blue eyes were fixed on Hawkeye as she came down the ramp. She hooked the sword onto her belt without even a glance down.
Riza was suitably awed. If she had not been so anxious about meeting the purportedly toughest general in Amestris, she would have thought it incredibly alluring. As it was, she had to impress her new commanding officer and live up to the expectations of her reputation. Riza clenched her jaw and held her chin stiff as she watched General Armstrong stalk toward her.
Deep in the back of Olivier’s brain, a very carefully constrained part of herself was having a moment because she had in no way been prepared for how attractive Riza Hawkeye was. Her broad shoulders, the strong jaw, her oddly piercing eyes—all struck Olivier and she struggled to want to focus on anything else. Her face remained stoic and blank, a skill developed over many years of practice—give away nothing of your thoughts and more of them will come to fruition. She took her time before speaking, burying her faltering mental composure under the presumption of intimidation. Olivier looked Riza over and stopped in front of her, just closer than would usually be comfortable, staring her directly in the eyes.
“This is Major Miles.” Olivier gestured to the man in suspiciously dark glasses at her heels. “He’ll show you to your quarters and give you a brief tour of the areas of the fort you’ll need to be familiar with. But first, report to the doctor. Miles will escort you.” She instructed.
“Yes, sir, General Armstrong.” Riza’s gaze never faltered from Olivier’s. Not least of all because of the striking vibrancy of her eyes. Their sharpness hinted at profound depths, but belied none of her thoughts.
Olivier walked past Riza to speak with the man in charge of the incoming supplies, leaving Riza in Miles’ care.
“Good afternoon, Lieutenant. I’ll show you to your quarters first so you can drop off your bags.”
His voice was surprisingly deep; but comfortingly warm. They chatted idly through the halls until they reached Hawkeye’s room.
They stopped at the door and Riza turned to him. “Are you Ishvalan?”
He laughed and took off his glasses, revealing the telltale red eyes. “It didn’t take you long at all. A quarter Ishvalan, actually. Some traits just run strong.” He said with a smile as he replaced his glasses. “Is that a problem?”
There didn’t seem to be any malice behind his question. “No.” She replied with a heavy weight to her voice. “Not for me.”
“Good. Come on, we’ve got some ground to cover before dinner and you still have to get checked out by the doc.”
Miles led Riza to the doctor’s office and waited in the hall for her.
“Hello.” The doctor greeted warmly. “This is just a standard physical the general wants all new troops to receive given the amount of time spent in closed quarters. Nothing out of the ordinary, just going to check your lungs, heart, eyes. Though I expect yours are fine.” She laughed at her own small joke.
Riza nodded. The doctor read over Hawkeye’s medical record, which was rather short, before commencing the physical exam. Riza was grateful that she wasn’t very intrusive when checking her lungs. She listened to Riza’s breathing, poked around in her ears, checked the back of her throat, and shone a light in her eyes a few times. It was nothing new. Just a quick prod to make sure that she wasn’t in the early stages of some respiratory illness that could be potentially devastating to the troops if it began to spread.
“You seem in excellent health; heart, lungs, and eyes all clear. You’ve got a clean medical record, everything’s in good order. But you’ll need to take those earrings out.”
Riza looked confused. “Why?”
“If you leave them in for extended periods—especially in the winter—you run the risk of frostbite. You’ll learn pretty quickly up here that the cold can burn as harshly as fire, it just takes longer.”
“Oh.” The weather would take some getting used to. “Thank you for the warning.”
The doctor smiled at her. “Just doing my job. You will need to be mindful of any numbness or discomfort in your fingers, toes, nose, and ears particularly. The number one health problem up here is frostbite. The second is the coffee.”
Riza chuffed. “It’s that bad?”
“You’ll see.” She laughed softly. “You’re free to go. But if you have any concerns at all that you might have trouble with the cold, let me know immediately. We need to get to it before there is any tissue damage.”
She nodded. “Thank you, doc.”
Riza returned to the hall to find Miles, leaning patiently against the wall.
“All done?” He asked.
“Yes, sir.” Riza answered. “Got the all clear.”
“Excellent. Let’s get moving, the fort’s bigger than you think.”
Riza settled into her quarters after a lot of walking and a dinner of respectable food. Her new space wasn’t much, but it was more than she had expected. A benefit of being an officer. The room was a small studio space with a wood-frame bed to one side. Next to the bed was an end table with a plain clock on it. At the opposite end of the space was a kitchenette with a small sink, a short bit of countertop, and a two burner stovetop. In the center was a wooden table with two chairs. Tucked behind the door was a small coat closet, and against the back wall was a three drawer dresser. Off in the corner was a private washroom.
It was still early evening, so Riza readied a kettle for tea to help relax after a rather full day. There was a knock at the door.
“Come in.” She called, expecting Major Miles or a soldier running a message for morning duties.
Olivier Armstrong entered and the air went out of Riza. She had an aura that immediately commanded your attention and in small private quarters it was similar to getting hit in the gut.
“Oh.” Riza went to attention. "General, I wasn’t expecting you.”
“No need for that, Hawkeye.” Olivier waved off the formalities, her motivations for visiting were less than professional.
Riza relaxed, but still held a tautness in her body.
Hawkeye’s quarters carried the heat of one unaccustomed to the north: that would come in time. Olivier draped her heavy coat over the back of one of the chairs before taking a seat. “Are you settling in all right? Briggs is quite the contrast to your usual posting.”
Riza returned to her tea, trying to hide her nerves. “I’ll get used to it, sir.” She replied in a confident tone.
“Good.” Olivier crossed her leg on her knee and laid her sword across the table. She focused her attention on Riza, taking the time to soak her in. She had delightfully broad, strong shoulders that she held square, even at rest. Her movements were precise and her eyes keen. “I hear you have a reputation for making an excellent cup of tea.”
“Yes, sir.” Riza reached for a second cup while asking, “Would you like some?”
“Yes, please. I like to pass judgement for myself rather than rely on reputation.” She relaxed back into the chair. “It’s been a long time since I had a good cup of tea.”
“I will try not to disappoint then.” Riza smiled nervously over her shoulder. “This is some I brought with me, but I’m afraid that it won’t be quite as good as I usually make. I didn’t bring any honey and there doesn’t seem to be any in the fort.”
“It always freezes. It isn’t worth the effort, or the ration spot, when sugar is just as good.” She could hear the anxiety in Riza’s voice, despite how much she tried to hide it. The weight of living up to expectations was something Olivier was starkly personally familiar with. It probably didn’t help that it was well-known that her bar was high. “I’m sure it will still be better than anything here.” Olivier assured her.
Riza set the cups on the table and poured for each of them. She added sugar to her own, in lieu of honey.
Olivier took hers plain. She held the cup to her lips, appreciating the smell. The scent was a far cry from the shavings of tea bricks that were brought to the fort. It was earthy and light, floral without being cloying, with a hint of bitter orange at the back. She took a sip; the flavor was just as lovely as the scent promised. She let it sit on her tongue before swallowing, relishing the heat sliding down her throat. “It’s delicious.”
A sliver of tension released from Riza’s body. “Thank you.” She smiled.
She had a beautiful smile, Olivier noticed. Her dark eyes were guarded, but still warm and welcoming. Olivier took another sip, enjoying the view before speaking. “I’d like you to take your firearms to the range tomorrow. Test them all and then make any adjustments necessary because of the cold.”
“Yes, sir.” Riza said.
“You will probably need to change your oil. Those commonly used in Central and East Command aren’t rated for the weather here. I’d hate for you to have your guns lock up.”
Riza nodded, it wasn’t a surprise.
Olivier lifted the cup to her lips, eying Hawkeye over the rim. Riza’s eyes flitted carefully over her, absorbing as much as she could. She set the cup down. “Are you nervous, Hawkeye?”
Riza took a sip to cover her anxious swallow. It served no purpose to lie to Olivier Armstrong. “A little, sir.”
Olivier leaned forward, her eyes heavy on Riza. “There’s no reason to be. All I ask of my soldiers is that you do your job, and do it well. Ask nothing of your men that you wouldn’t willingly do yourself. Be forthright; be aware of your limitations, but show no weakness. You’re a leader to these men now, be the soldier you hope they will become. Can you do that, Hawkeye?”
Riza looked her in the eyes. “Without a doubt,” she answered truthfully.
Olivier smiled and leaned back in her chair, holding Riza’s stare. “Then you’ll do fine.” She took a long sip, finishing off the remainder of her tea. “Remember that everything you’ve heard about me in East Command was the words of men who did not meet those simple requirements and ran back south with their egos bruised.” She stood and threw her coat over her shoulders like a cloak. “Ask any of my men and they’ll tell you truthfully what kind of leader I am. You don’t have anything to be afraid of.”
Riza followed Olivier’s gaze as she stood and nodded sternly. “That’s worth remembering.”
“Good evening, lieutenant. I’ll check in with you tomorrow.” Olivier flashed a polite smile before leaving.
Riza sighed, the last bit of tension releasing as the air in the room settled in Olivier’s absence. General Armstrong’s intensity would take some getting used to.
Riza brought her firearms to the range in the belly of Briggs to ascertain the level of effectiveness for each through a brief set of trials. Her rifle suffered the worst; the bolt sticking after only the second shot. She spent the afternoon cleaning and oiling her guns to suit the conditions of Briggs. They would need to be tested again in the morning, but she had confidence for their performance.
Olivier came by at approximately the same time in the evening. The temperature in Hawkeye’s quarters was already a couple of degrees cooler, she noticed with pleasure.
Riza had expected Olivier this time, and so the initial reaction wasn’t nearly as rough. But it still struck her briefly to look at Olivier or to have her eyes on her. She had already set tea for two. “Would you like a cup again?”
“Yes, if you would, please.” Olivier took the same seat as before. “You had trouble with your firearms?”
“Yes. The lubricant was not up to the conditions. I spoke with the range master before cleaning them. They should be able to stand up even in winter now.” Riza poured for each of them and settled.
Olivier tasted the tea, savoring the swarm of subtle notes. “Good. As you know, in winter we’ll have East Command here for training exercises. I look forward to seeing your contribution to our efforts this time.”
“Gladly, sir. I look forward to it myself.” Riza smiled. The challenge appealed to her, but more satisfying was the idea of impressing Olivier. “I would like to test my firearms again tomorrow, take them through a full trial.”
Olivier nodded, approving of Hawkeye’s meticulousness. “When you’re sure they’re in good order, call for Major Miles. I’d like to see your skills for myself.”
“Yes, sir.” Riza eased a bit, the edginess of being around General Armstrong already beginning to fade.
Olivier took the opportunity to linger with Riza. Her company was delightful and comforting. It didn’t hurt that she was beautiful, and Olivier was always willing to pass pleasant conversation with a beautiful woman. She took careful measure of how Riza watched her, especially when she thought Olivier’s attention was elsewhere. The way Riza’s gaze constantly drifted back and forth between her eyes and her mouth, the way she kept an eye on Olivier when she looked idly around the room. Olivier dared not read too much into it, but the evidence suggested that perhaps Riza might be likewise interested in more time spent in private.
Their cups drained, Olivier could no longer extend her excuse for staying in Riza’s quarters. She stood and Riza followed. “It’s getting late. I enjoyed the tea, Hawkeye. Thank you for indulging me in some delightful conversation.” They made their way slowly to the door.
“You’re welcome any time, General.” Riza promised.
Olivier smiled from the doorway. “Good night, Lieutenant.”
Riza returned the smile. She was slowly adjusting to Olivier’s presence. “Good night.”
In the morning, Hawkeye took her firearms to the range again. She ran a couple of magazines through each to be sure everything was functioning optimally. Satisfied with their operation, she asked the range master to call for Miles. While waiting for Olivier, she went to set fresh targets.
It didn’t take long for Miles and General Armstrong to arrive. “Everything is in order?” Olivier asked.
“Yes, sir.” Riza nodded as she holstered her three handguns.
“Show me what you can do.” Olivier commanded, with a grin and an obvious lilt of excitement in her voice.
Riza approached the fire line and drew her main pistol. She fired on the first target at twenty yards, emptying the magazine. All rounds landed within the center ring. She released the clip, letting it fall to her feet and seamlessly loaded a fresh magazine without taking her eyes from the target. She emptied the second clip into the same target—all clean headshots. When it was spent, she drew her second pistol and moved to the next target at forty yards away. Riza repeated the exercise; one full clip center mass, quickly and smoothly reloaded, and one full clip to the head. All excellent shots, even flirting with the edge of the pistol’s effective range. Both pistols emptied, she pulled her revolver and fired on the last target at twenty yards. Five shots center mass, and the last placed between the eyes.
Miles grinned.
Riza moved to the nearest rifle lane, sparing a glance at Olivier as she crossed.
Olivier watched with a growing smile and fiercely burning eyes. She remained silent, clenching her jaw. Her hand resting on her sword tightened around the grip and her stance stiffened.
Riza picked up her rifle. Even with range rounds, at only a hundred yards, the target was insultingly close for her. She butted the stock to her shoulder. Using the iron sights, she lined up her shot and fired. A clean round through the center of the chest. She put one in each shoulder and one through the head. The last shot she put as cleanly as possible through the hole of the first.
Olivier nodded, the smile spreading across her full lips even as she bit down harder. Riza was the best marksman Olivier had seen, and she looked damned good doing it. Olivier swallowed, before speaking. “I have one more challenge for you, Hawkeye. Get your coat.”
Riza grabbed a handful of full powder rounds and met them in the hall. Olivier led the way out onto the wall.
Once outside, Olivier handed Riza a pair of binoculars and gestured toward the nearest mountainside. “There used to be a series of signal bells and beacons used throughout the pass here. Compared to radio and telephone, the system is slow and dangerous, so it’s no longer in use. But most of the bells and beacon towers remain.”
Riza scanned up the mountain until she found a large bronze bell hanging from a timber frame on a flat clifftop. The remnants of a once-bright red ribbon hung from the clapper, swaying slightly in the breeze.
“Hit the bell.” Olivier demanded. She watched Hawkeye’s response carefully.
Riza lowered the binoculars and looked at her. “That won’t cause an avalanche?”
“It’s the middle of summer, there hasn’t been fresh snow on these peaks in over a month. The likelihood is practically nonexistent.”
Riza looked back to the mountainside. She could just catch the flash of the ribbon with her naked eye. “How far is it?”
“Two and a half miles.” Olivier answered, her bright eyes focused on Hawkeye.
Riza’s gaze steeled as she mentally processed the shot. It was near the edge of the rifle’s capabilities; the wind was steady, but weak, and the elevation was about level. She chambered a round and knelt, resting the forestock on the railing. She located the bell in the scope, watching the ribbon flutter. She took a moment to do the math in her head.
Olivier watched Riza as she calculated. Her eyes sharpened as she concentrated, her brow furrowing. She pursed her lips as her focus steadied
Riza raised the barrel up and over, took a breath, and pulled the trigger.
The next twenty seconds were agonizingly long, but Olivier’s eyes never left Riza. Hawkeye stood, holding the rifle at rest. Her eyes were on the mountain, but her attention was on Olivier watching her. Finally, a deep metallic clang reached their ears.
Olivier grinned wickedly. “Excellent. Starting tomorrow run drills with the men. I’ll leave it to your discretion how best to proceed. If you need anything, speak with Captain Buccaneer or Miles.”
“Yes, sir.” Riza nodded.
Olivier and Miles returned inside. Riza looked at the bell and smiled. It felt wonderful to be in Olivier’s good graces.