“Roy mustang I would like to personally promote you to the rank of colonel in honor of your exemplary work in the Ishvalan war. Amestris thanks you for your service.” The Furher stood before Roy as well as a few other men, standing in flawless formation, side by side, maybe three inches from one another. They all stood with the same determined yet expressionless face. When King bradley turned away from them at last, Roy’s devastation finally shown through. He shouldn’t have been promoted for this, much less thanked. For all the people he had killed. How many countless innocent Ishvalans he was forced to scorch to a pile of cinders and ash. The smell of burning human flesh would never be erased from his memory. It was branded into his core like a searing metal prodder on livestock.
“Are there anyone special in you young men’s lives that you would like some time away to visit? Perhaps you have some family to alert of your return?” Bradley a