Fresh Sparks and Kindling

[Roy Mustang]

Alchemy. It is seen as magic by some, a miracle to others. However, it would be foolish to believe it is without limits. The science of alchemy is composed of three distinct steps, each of which is necessary to perform a successful transmutation. First, the material in question must be analyzed, a stage known as comprehension. The alchemist must determine fundamentally what atoms and molecules are found within the desired material. Once this is determined, the second stage, deconstruction, breaks these bonds, reducing the material down to its core components. The final stage, reconstruction, arranges these materials into the new form that the alchemist desires. With this act, the alchemist changes the very nature of the world to their own desires.

Freshly preserved from both literal and figurative deconstruction, there are some who believe Cevanti is now prepared for this third stage…

---​

A cry of abject despair swept over the desks of the Cevanti Military eastern branch office. It had scarcely echoed off the walls of the space before it was followed by a solid thud First Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye glanced up from her work with the tired expression of one who had become far too accustomed to such outbursts. She cast an inquiring eyebrow in the direction of Master Sergeant Kain Feury, but he simply gave a blank shrug in response. The two of them turned to regard Second Lieutenant Jean Havoc. The officer was slumped over his desk with his arms hanging limply at his sides.

“What’s wrong, sir?” Feury asked, “Did you try that fish in the mess hall? It looked a little questionable to me…”

Hawkeye closed her eyes briefly, fully confident that the track record for Havoc’s outbursts did not agree with Feury’s hypothesis.

“No…” Havoc raised his head with the look of a man utterly bereft of purpose.

“He got dumped again.” Second Lieutenant Breda commented as he rose from his own desk.

The three of them glanced at Havoc once again, who only gave a despondent whimper.

“...I see.” Hawkeye offered dryly, then lowered her gaze back to her work.

The area that had been close to ground zero of Ashe-0’s detonation was starting to display some concerning levels of radiation, and there were concerns it could spread to nearby water supplies. It wasn’t the only serious problem to have crossed the colonel’s desk since their return from rescuing their corrupted arbiter. There were countless things that had been set aside in the face of the planet’s imminent demise. Now that there was a future once again, the work piled up readily.

“I can’t help but notice this is a repeated problem, Havoc.” Colonel Roy Mustang commented from his desk at the back of the office.

His collection of officers turned to look at the state alchemist. Currently he was staring out the window, his arms propped behind his head. A report sat open on his desk, which Hawkeye couldn’t fail to notice was the same one he had been reviewing for the past few hours. It seemed highly unlikely that he would be finishing it today. Let alone the stack that still awaited his oversight.

“It’s a difficult balance, sir. Our work can be quite demanding, and it can be difficult to allot the proper amount of time for a relationship.” She stated neutrally, adding her signature to her current document and setting it aside.

“Really?” Mustang swung his chair around with a genuinely perplexed look on his face. “I would have thought being world saviors would help someone's chances to impress.”

Havoc glowered at him. Hawkeye closed her eyes briefly, feeling minorly conflicted. While it was a good sign that the Colonel was starting to relax, she hadn’t particularly missed these sorts of interactions.

“She said that it was time for a new start for her…” Havoc moaned dejectedly, “Now that the word wasn’t ending.”

Mustang leaned forwards, putting a hand on his chin as though deeply considering the statement. Hawkeye was quite confident now that he would indulge this conversation for the remainder of the afternoon, as an excuse to put off the rest of his work until tomorrow.

“If you ask me, soldier, that sounds like you were failing to meet her needs to begin with. There is a status to having a personal connection to a soldier during wartime. Now that the war is over, she’s off to seek greener pastures. And I, for one, think she may just have the right idea.” Mustang stated his analysis with the same tone of seriousness Hawkeye had heard him use in strategy meetings over a holo-map.

“Gee… thanks, Sir.” Havoc sighed, “Glad to know you think so highly of me…”

Mustang had stood up, pausing with a raised eyebrow as he reached for his overcoat.

“Hmm? I don’t know what you’re talking about, Havoc.” The Colonel shrugged on his coat as he spoke, “This is a chance for new beginnings, for our whole planet. Don’t stubbornly cling to the familiar or you’ll squander the opportunities ahead of you. I’ll see you all tomorrow!”

With a casual wave, Mustang strolled out of the office. Hawkeye glanced idly at the clock, noting the time. Early, but not concerningly so. She turned back to Havoc, who was grumbling to himself and fishing in his pocket, most likely for a cigarette.

“He meant that as a compliment.” She added, causing the junior officer to glance up.

“Huh?” Havoc gave her a bewildered look.

Breda just chuckled.

“That or his royal flameness is living in a different reality from us common soldiers. The Colonel is operating in bigger circles these days. He has Aria stopping by personally to engage in schemes, and he’s got a collection of super-powered people he’s keeping on retainer. Hell, they put him in charge of the whole attack force against an arbiter!”

Feury nodded, “It certainly is a far cry from the work we were doing before the Unmaking.”

“Then perhaps you should take the Colonel’s advice, and expand your horizons as well.” Hawkeye suggested.

There was a loud thunderclap from the clear sky outside. Havoc, Breda and Feury rushed to the window, peering down to the courtyard outside. Colonel Mustang was down there, speaking to someone who appeared to be none other than Ember Ramsay. As they watched dumbfounded, Mustang offered the arbiter pilot his arm, then the two of them vanished in another thunderclap. The courtyard stood empty again, as though the two of them had never been there.

“Right… expanding horizons…” Breda scratched the back of his head, turning back to his desk “I’ll get right on that, Riza.”

There was a soft thud as Havoc’s forehead hit the glass of the window with a despondent sigh, then a squeak as he slid down its surface.

Hawkeye pulled her gaze away from the empty courtyard. She glanced up from the window, offering the other officers a wan smile.

“...I never claimed the Colonel makes it easy.”

 

[Roy Mustang]

All in all he managed to handle himself decently well. His stomach clenched, like the floor had just dropped out from under him. Which, upon later reflection, was perhaps an accurate reaction to what had just happened. Mustang did stumble slightly as he and Ember touched down on the ground once more. If she noticed he was significantly less accustomed to instantaneous teleportation than her, she was nice enough not to mention it.

“See?” She stepped around in front of him with a proud smile, “It’s not hard at all once you get the hang of it.”

“I suppose not.” Mustang chuckled, glancing around. They were standing on top of one of the mega-factories that formed the anchor of the newly reclaimed fortress city of Mylesia. They truly had travelled miles within the blink of an eye.

“Incredible. You must need such careful precision with your aim at this distance…” Mustang wondered as glanced towards the ocean.

“Mmm, sort of? It’s not an aim thing, so much as it is remembering a place and then willing myself to be there.” Ember walked a few steps over to the guardrail of the mega-factory roof. At this height the wind was quite noticeable. Their hair and coats danced madly in the afternoon air.

Mustang laughed, “I will admit, I think you may have me on the back food here, madam. Usually I’m the one with the dazzling mystique on these excursions, but I would wager that the life of a military officer must seem droll compared to yours!”

Ember tilted her head to one side, giving a doubting smile at his words, “Think the grass might be greener on the other side, Roy. You know first hand the problems that come with being responsible for things. Sometimes it’s nice to be able to stop in one place and talk with one person.”

Mustang’s charming smile dropped at those words, his expression becoming more serious.

“It shouldn’t be any one person’s responsibility. Power equal to the task or not, the guardianship of a planet is too demanding for any one person to manage alone. I’m sorry we have to leave so much on your shoulders.”

Now it was Ember’s turn to laugh.

“Shouldn’t…” She repeated, shaking her head slightly.

Then she turned around, staring off the edge of the mega-factory, “What do you think of Mylesia?” she asked.

Mustang frowned.
“I wasn’t exactly optimistic when I heard the news. Personally I’m worried that Thelonius is over-extending. I know he-”

“No, no no.” Ember pouted, “This is a date, not a logistics inspection!”

“...Right.” Mustang gave an apologetic chuckle, walking over to the railing to see the view himself.

Mustang had expected this outing to be a bit stranger than most of his dates. Oddly enough, what seemed to be throwing him off was how decidedly down to earth Ember was. He had briefly encountered the Arbiter of Opealon during the Naussica incident. And even more briefly, the fallen Arbiter behind the Unmaking. Both had carried with them a gravitas that he was only now realizing he had expected was just part of being so fundamental to the Crossroads’ existence. This young woman was inarguably one of the most important people in Cevanti’s history, but she hid that facet so well that you would never know it from a brief interaction.

“It’s good to be able to visit the ocean safely. Growing up in Markov you really don’t get a sense for what the world out there is like.”

“Really?” Ember gave Mustang a lop-sided grin, “And here I thought you famously disliked the water!”

Mustang chuckled, tapping his chest with an expression of pride.

“As it happens, I am a half-decent swimmer, yes. Rain is a sore spot in a combat situation, but I’d hardly wish for it to stop raining entirely. Besides, I’m a halfway important officer now, I’m not supposed to be taking the field personally so often.”

Ember shrugged, “Important’s what you make it. Sometimes it gets people to listen to things you never expected they would, other times it makes people treat you like poison-tipped glass.”

For a moment they both stood silently on the rooftop, listening to silent thoughts and howling wind.

“In any case, we’re here for dinner, right?” Ember spoke suddenly, taking hold of Mustang’s forearm and transporting them both to the streets below.

 

[Roy Mustang]

Mustang removed his overcoat, dropping it over the shoulders of the chair before sitting at the table. Across from him, Ember did the same. The Emerald Mare was one of the most sought after establishments in Mylesia. Even with his military officier pedigree, he had needed to call in some favors to get the reservation in any degree of timeliness, and the price tag that had gone with it had made him wince. Still, there were few things that could be considered a more appropriate time to splurge than this.

He glanced out the massive glass window that formed the outer wall of the restaurant. Below them the coastline stretched off around the edge of the city. This little cove had been set aside by the architects for visitors and small ships. Beyond the rocky outcropping of buildings at the far side, Mustang knew the rest of the harbor would look far more industrial. There was no escaping the fact that Mylesiawas a factory venture first and foremost. Even here in the portion set aside for fine dining, there were mining facilities visible just across the cove.

“Not quite rooftop quality, but at least we don’t have to worry about being blown off.” Mustang shrugged with a faint smirk.

Ember gave a light chuckle.

Within seconds of them settling down on their seats, a protocol droid in the shining purple of the Guild stepped over to their table.

“I am G-4PO, human-cyborg relations. How may I serve you?” The protocol droid spoke in a tinned warble of a voice.

Mustang took the proffered menu with a nod. He was never quite sure how to deal with droids. Or drones, or robots or androids or whatever mechanized automation behaving like a person you wanted to call them. They acted with all the awareness of a person, yet many of them, like Ashe-0 and their waiter here, seemed to be stubbornly entrenched in servile roles.

“Do you say that to everyone? Or just us humans?” he asked, mostly wondering out loud.

“I am fluent in over three million forms of communication.” G-4PO responded without the faintest hint of irritation at the question, “‘Nanye G-4PO, elda- tamne ner carpe. Manen finyldë?’ would be my greeting for a guest fluent in Quenya. If I am providing refreshments for a Centauri guest, I would-”

“Alright, I get it. That’s enough.” Mustang cut in as Ember sat laughing. The droid would probably list off greetings for hours if he didn’t interject. Once again, G-4PO continued without hint of irritation.

“Before taking your order, I have been requested to provide you both with a holo-communicator from our provider.”

Mustang and Ember shared a significant glance.

“...Of course.” Ember said after a half-beat of consideration, “We’d love to speak with the baron.”

Without waiting any further, G-4PO placed a small metal disc on the table. The holographic bust of Trade Baron Thelonious Rex joined them at the table.

“The Arbiter AND the Hero of Markov!” The skull face of the Guild leader was grinning as he spoke, “You should have told me you wanted to dine here! I would have reserved a whole wing for you!”

“Hello Theo.” Ember gave a polite smile and Mustang nodded in a formal manner.

This was the other drawback posed by choosing a public venue. Mustang had to admit he was impressed with how quickly the trade Baron had caught on. But that meant he couldn’t just enjoy himself this evening. Mustang closed his eyes briefly. When he opened them his expression had shifted from gregarious and relaxed to cunning and attentive.

“That would be too much, sir. This place is in high demand.” Mustang placed his elbows on the table, chin resting on the backs of his hands.

“Nonsense, nonsense!” Thelonious’s bony hand briefly waved into view before vanishing again, “People of your calibre deserve privacy for this kind of excursion.”

Ember frowned and Mustang’s eyes narrowed. He was beginning to understand the reason that the Trade Baron had been so quick to inject himself into the situation now, and the implications sat uncomfortably in the pit of his stomach.

“...With respect, sir, celebrity is a fickly thing to make a lifestyle from. I’d much prefer not to rely on it.”

The Trade Baron grinned on, expression utterly impossible to read.

“Cytokine doesn’t know what they have with you, boy.”

A compliment and a dismissal in one. Mustang’s mouth twitched towards a smirk as Thelonious turned to face Ember squarely. He had to admire the efficiency.

“Do enjoy yourself this evening, honored Arbiter. I hope you will have the time to pay a visit to the Guild as well within the coming weeks?”

“I would be delighted to.” Ember nodded, her expression guarded.

And there it was.

It was an undeniable fact that, regardless of intent, Mustang represented Cytokine Industries. As such, Ember was signalling implicit approval of the organization by associating with him. The Guild and the Pilot’s Union had greater issues with each other than either had with Cytokine, this was well known. Yet, with their Arbiter freshly returned from the Unmaking and vowing to take a more active role in the planet’s endeavors, all three factions would be eager to curry her favor.

“Capital! Well, don’t let me intrude further upon your evening. I know that our esteemed Colonel wants to be seen without special favors, but you will both have to forgive me. Guests such as yourselves deserve the best of what we have to offer here in Mylesia. I took the liberty of sending you a bottle of le folie brille, straight from Inverexe! If you ask me, the stuff is one of the best things we get out of that accursed moon!”

And with an echoing laugh, the Thelonious’s holographic image faded. Without missing a beat, G-4PO placed a tray with two fizzing glasses and a bottle onto the table and ambled off.

Mustang and Ember both let out out a breath that neither was conscious of having been holding.

“Sorry.” Mustang pinched his brow briefly before sitting back up, “Seems I didn’t consider all the implications when I suggested this place.”

“Not your fault, Roy. Being the Arbiter is nothing if not a balancing act. But that’s something I just have to re-remember now, I suppose.” Ember took one of the glasses as she spoke.

Mustang chuckled, taking the other glass. They both glanced out the window, the evening’s mood somewhat derailed by the reminder of their respective duties. There would be time to deal with that in the future, Mustang told himself. He held up his glass for a toast.

“To future problems and current pleasures?”

Ember chuckled.

“I’ll drink to that!”

Their glasses clinked together.

Almost on cue, an explosion rocked the far side of the cove.