Chapter 1

1550-1599

July 1st, 1550

From the journal of Francis Havoc, a Rivieran immigrant.

This country cannot cease to amaze me. When I first arrived to this small gathering of peoples, this city was nothing more than a dusty town among the mountains. Only three years later, I look up to see a bustling, thriving city, and word has spread that our leader plans to declare us a country of our own in seven days, setting our borders to encompass the small towns sprung around us.

This nameless city, simply called Central by its inhabitants, is truly remarkable. The majority of citizens are of the surrounding lands, and therefore dark of hair, though not so dark that no color can be seen, and pale of skin, so that Rivierans such as myself stand out like stars against a brunet night.

My dear wife is uneasy of late. She swears to me that there is some vile creature roaming the city, and often wakes from nightmares of a ghastly fiend feasting upon our family. It pains me to deny her wish of departure, but we cannot. Such a journey would be too dangerous to bring our child on. Fabien is only two years old, and cannot travel safely for many years yet.

I have let her silly fancy infect my head. Now I see a grotesque form around every corner, and I find myself holding Fabien ever tighter to my chest.

I will go to clear my head.

July 8th, 1550

From the diary of Natalia Mustang (Born Bai-An Han), married younger sister of Nathanial Han (born Chao-Cheng Han), Xingese representative in Amestris.

The people rejoice! Their voices fill the air in jubilant shouting, as they wait breathless for the Most Noble Jasper Bryant, our Bright leader. Already has my Esteemed Brother given his blessing to the young country (I believe he called it Ametrus) in the name of our Beloved Xing, and now the crowd awaits Bryant's speech.

He has stepped out. What a magnificent man he is! His hair is dark, as is common of the peoples of Cameron, and shines under the bright sunshine. His skin is a woman's envy, pale and smooth, but his eyes… my, they are mesmerizing! Were I not a married woman, I would have courted him. They are a jewel-like color, mixed purples and reds. My brother says I am being silly, but I say that dear Bryant feels different than those around him. As if his soul is made of a thousand people!

Oh my! He speaks. I must suspend my journaling for the moment.

July 8th, 1550

Transcript of the speech of Jasper Bryant, the first Führer of Amestris, as recorded by Patrick Breda.

My dearest friends, I stand before you today as a proud Amestrian. However, I could not be so if it were not for the efforts of all of you, from the most knowing scholar to the simple produce seller I bought an apple from this morning. [The crowd shouts.] Thank you, thank you all.

As many of you know, my name is Jasper Bryant. When I was young, I always dreamed of escaping the harsh hierarchy of life in Cameron. With a royal father and a peasant mother, I was forever bounced from rank to rank, as each person I met was at a loss of what to do with me.

So, I dreamed. I dreamed of a country where apple sellers and scholars could stand side by side, where a peasant woman and a prince could marry without repercussion. Where Ishvalans and Drachmans could meet in friendship without a dangerous journey across mountains and snow.

Today is the beginning of that dream. I, Jasper Bryant, swear to you that I will do everything to make this country strong enough to protect our dream. From today on, there are no Camerians or Rivierans, no Wellish or Aerugans here, but only Amestrians.

Welcome, to Amestris! [End of transcript.]

November 12th, 1567

From the journal of Julia Bryant nee Sondra, found after her sudden and violent death while home alone.

My husband lies. He tells me he is going to see the Xingese diplomat, Nathanial, but Natalia tells me he never arrived! When he comes home, his scent is that of unfamiliar perfume and he has a smug look upon his face. I believe he may be going to see another woman. I had him followed, but my man was found dead the next morning… they said it looked as if he had been chewed upon!

This war has changed him. He was once the kindest man I knew, but now he never comes to bed, and he speaks harshly to Natalia. His office is lit day and night, and many a plate is broken at dinner. I am not blind; I see the bruises upon Jessica's wrists.

Dear Lord, what do I do?

November 23rd, 1567

In a letter from Jessica Bryant to Natalia Mustang, the day before the funeral of Julia Bryant.

Dearest Natalia,

I am afraid. Mother was murdered, Natalia, not fallen down the steps as Father claims. He believes I do not know, but I heard him speaking to an unfamiliar man. They spoke of assassination, Natalia, and my name! I am afraid.

He hurts me, Natalia. He holds my wrists so tight that they bruise, and I must wear those thick bracelets – you know them, they are the ones you oft tell me to abandon – and there is no count to the times he has slapped be for forgetting to light the taper or taking a simple walk in the gardens!

Please, Natalia, find me a suitor, for I am forbidden from leaving without father. I cannot stay in this house any longer. You are my last hope, now that Mother has passed.

Father comes to bring me to Mother's funeral. I must seal this away before he sees what rebellious words I have written.

With much love,

Jessica,

Lady Duchess of Amestris.

Excerpt from The Duchess by Harold Falman, describing the Bryant family. Written 1568-1575, published 1597, three years after the author's death.

Jasper Bryant is a man, five and forty years of age, tall of stature, and muscled lightly from many a year of swordplay. His hair is that of a preened Raven, shining with the light of a frost-killed leaf. His eyes are piercing and keen, icy as a midwinter's night painted by the purplish blood of a fallen beast. One cannot look him straight without feeling the chill of an otherworldly force, and those around them hurry along their way whilst their hearts preach of some strange fear-ridden desire for him. Never have I known one to stand long in his presence without falling to his feet in a fit of some rotten love.

By contrast, his recently departed wife, Julia Bryant nee Sondra, may the Lord rest her soul, was a pale, fluttery thing, a timid character that often fell to fearful thoughts when a sliver of suspicion made itself known. She could often be found in the company of Natalia Mustang, a Xing-born lady, and they were so close as to call each other "Julie" and "Bai-An".

The Bryant's daughter, Jessica, is a fiery-spirited girl, a cocoa-haired adolescent of willowy figure. Very little resemblance can be seen to either of her parents, as her chin is strong and stubborn, her nose small and pointed, and her eyes wider and of a discolored jade found in the gaze of neither parent. Her smiles are rare but pleasant, a small twitch of pale lips. With three sentences, I have seen her turn an undesirable suitor from her courtship, with nary a discourteous or harsh word.

Foreword of The Duchess, as written by Chao-Cheng "Nathanial" Han in 1599, added in the second publication of the wildly popular and thought-provoking book.

When I first met Jessica Bryant, she was barely a week old, resting in the arms of her father: the Esteemed Jasper Bryant. She was a large babe, something I found surprising but promising, as she had been quarantined with her mother for the last months of pregnancy. That she was not sickly and weak struck me as a favorable sign.

However, I instead found myself concerned by something else I saw that day.

When one sees a father holding his young daughter, there is so often a wondrous light in their eyes as they hold a miracle in their arms. That day, whilst Bryant's face showed pure love, his eyes spoke of disdain and apathy.

As Jessica grew up, she was treated with nothing but care and kindness. For a time, I was able to convince myself that my eyes had deceived me, and dear Jasper loved his daughter as any father should.

That illusion was shattered the day that thirteen year old Jessica knocked on my door with tears in her eyes.

I was home alone at the time, my sister on an outing with her husband, and I myself still a bachelor. When I opened the door, the dear girl stood there and begged me to let her stay until her father had cooled his wrath.

Once we had retired to the kitchen, she showed me the dark bruises upon her arms like thick, purple bracelets, and shook her dress so that many necklace links fell from her skirt. She later informed me that her father had pulled her favorite necklace from her throat until it snapped.

Four times she returned to me, each time sporting some new bruise in the shape of large fingers and hands. Each time, Julia would come to fetch her, insisting that Jasper had not meant what he did, that he was just stressed. It was easy to see that she was struggling with excuses, for her gaze would dart to the right and her shaking hands would clench about Jessica's bruised fingers.

I can remember very clearly the day Natalie received the letter, for it was that same day that I begged Jessica's hand in marriage.

It was not a bad match. I was only eighteen years older than her, affluent and well-connected, and our marriage would strengthen the bond between Xing and Amestris. Natalia and Julia were delighted, but it is Jasper's reaction that stands out to me most of all.

As I sat in my drawing room, drawing up plans for the ceremony, Jasper came to call. For a long time, he stood and watched my writing, staying for one agonizing hour before he turned to leave. As he stood at the door, he paused, and spoke to me in a voice colder than the frozen North. "Do not think you can outwit me, Chao-Cheng Han. What's mine will always stay mine."

I do not know what was wrong with his thoughts; that is Harold Falman's forte. I am no doctor, nor am I versed in the ways of the mind. But I do know this: Jasper Bryant was a great man. His military tactics were flawless, his speeches eloquent and charismatic even as he reached his eighties, and his leadership was the best I've ever seen. But as a father, and a husband, he was rotten through and through. Everything I have written now sums up to only the barest threads of what a dark, twisted creature he was. Even now, five years after his death, the frost in his eyes still haunts my mind.

He was a great man. Not a good one, but great.

*Author's Note: This is running on the assumption that Father had the powers of all of the other homunculi before he created them, as well as some of their personality.

*Author's Note: For those of you who are confused, Jasper Bryant is Homunculus (Father). Feel free to ask for clarification.

*Author's Note: More information on Jessica's actual circumstances of birth will come later. She's not dead yet!

Author's Note: Imagine my surprise when I realized I had this in my folders! It's unlikely to be continued but I figured I'd upload what I had.