[May 24] [FMA] Xingian whispers

[grassangel]

Title: Xingian whispers

Day/theme: May 24, 2007, 'blue, like an orange' (I know... late. Terribly late. Not posting it to the comm though!)
Series: Fullmetal Alchemist
Characters/Pairing: Roy Mustang
Rating: PG
Genre: General, Speculative

Notes: Ehehehe... the Xingian heritage fic in which Roy doesn't want to be considered a traitor to his country and has to face the wrath of his grandmother. It makes sense in my mind the way it fits with the theme. 

Colonel Roy Mustang smoothed the rich blue of his uniform, pressing his hands nervously against the heavy fabric as he petted away insubstantial wrinkles. He wiped his hands down in a final motion before placing one on top of the two letters on his desk. He scanned over the characters briefly before hastily folding it up, stuffing it back into the envelope it had arrived in before turning his attention to the remaining letter.
It was an official inquiry into his unit, requesting extensive background information on the higher ranked members including himself.

Mustang gritted his teeth together as he read the form over for the fifteenth time since it had been deposited on his desk. The request was going to make things a lot more difficult and not just in terms of finding the information but in terms of what the content was.
Especially in the case of his information.

He sighed, withdrawing the first letter from its envelope. Xingian characters flowed down the page, a few Amestrian words thrown in where it was obvious the author couldn't find a suitable replacement. It would have made no sense to someone if they only knew the language academically but a fluent speaker would be able to pick up on the fact it was addressed to her grandson and she wished he would see her when summer came around.
Fluency was not required, however, to see that the letter was addressed to Roy.

Showing visible signs of irritation, Mustang wished, for the sixteenth time that morning, that his grandmother had not been a prisoner of war from Xing. The minor childhood annoyance of having to learn another language was nothing compared to the present one of being labelled a sympathiser or spy.
And he was sure that a least one of his cousins would be in the Xingese forces, furthering the chances of being discharged on grounds of suspected espionage. He could even be extradited to Xing, where he would be labelled as a spy for the Amestrian government having willingly signed up and become an alchemist.

All those options were possible if the commanding officers looking over his information decided that, despite having married an Amestrian and being fully assimilated, Xue Xian Carter had instilled a sense of Xingian loyalty into her children and grandchildren.
Perhaps the only thing working in his favour was that there were hardly any Xingian contacts in the city or even in Amestris itself. Its borders were closely monitored and suspicious visitors screened. There was hardly any chance that he would be able to pass on information he might have gathered.
Being labelled a sympathiser was less easily dodged.

Any kind of statement or action that could be interpreted as support for the Eastern country would endanger his status as a colonel in the blue-uniformed army of Amestris. His hard-earned rank could disappear in a flurry of paperwork and whispered conversations amongst generals.
It would be so easy, the slightest murmur of disagreement against the Amestrian regime and he would be forever labelled as a sympathiser. Categorised as such, the consequences would be as disastrous as if he were charged of espionage.
He would no longer be considered for promotion and, most likely, he would be reassigned to some trivial outpost in the West, as far away as one could get from the Eastern frontier.

Colonel Roy Mustang exhaled heavily, setting his grandmother's letter down. He would have to write to her, in plain Amestrian, that he would be unable to visit her while his country was in conflict and perhaps a visit down to Central may be more suitable. While he could not reject his heritage, he could very well distance himself from the links he had to it.
A pen was plucked from its position on his desk, twin pieces of stationery were taken from their drawer and one laid upon the information request. He would have to inform Hawkeye about the retrevial of files and delegate the appropriate tasks to the rest of his command. In the meantime he would have to write a letter acknowledging the request.
After he had written the letter to his grandmother of course.