Brilliancy
by Lady Norbert
A/N: I plotted out a basic outline for this story today and I realized that it might end up being even longer and more (needlessly?) complicated than Flowers of Antimony. I hope nobody minds. It's also going to be containing some flashbacks - certain events later are going to make Riza and, more particularly, Roy look back at some things that happened in the past. Most of those will actually be missing scenes from the manga, because I love showing everyone my headcanon.
Remember - the meaning of the story's title doesn't necessarily have anything to do with the plot, and the meaning of a chapter title doesn't necessarily have anything to do with what's in the chapter. Necessarily. :)
Thank you for all the nice reviews on the first chapter! You've set my mind at ease.
Chapter Two: Romantic Chess
Romantic Chess: A style of play characterized by bold attacks and sacrifices.
"General Mustang?"
"Yes, Colonel Mustang?"
It is as close to a running joke as they tend to get in their Ishvalan office. Their staff is competent, polite, and dedicated, but not much for kidding each other. While Riza tends to appreciate this for the most part, she misses her four (moderately disciplined) goofballs. Back in Central, that exchange of titles would have been followed by a guffaw or a snort, the offering of a treat to Black Hayate, the suggestion of a ridiculous plot to put off work as long as possible, or the stakes of the latest betting pool. It's funny, really; she always knew she'd miss Fuery, Falman, Havoc and Breda themselves, but she never thought she would miss the slacking.
"I have your schedule for the day, sir."
"Let's hear it."
There's nothing too out of the ordinary on the agenda. They are slated to attend a meeting with some of the higher-ranking Ishvalan officials and religious leaders regarding the current projects. This will occupy most of the morning and be followed by lunch with Major Miles, after which he will join them for a tour of the proposed site for the new manufacturing plant. A few of the Ishvalans are still slightly hesitant about this planned venture, but Major Miles is enthusiastic and this helps with most anything. Once the building is complete, expert glassmakers will be brought from Central to teach the natives how to turn the desert sand into fine glass for windows, mirrors, and the like, which will open up new opportunities for trade. The whole idea germinated from one of Roy's late-night brilliant flashes, actually, and he's been following through on it very intently, working with the engineers and calling in a few long-standing favors when necessary to get the ball rolling. Riza is proud of him.
"Hm. I think I'm tired already," he says now.
"After the tour there's just some paperwork."
"And we both know how much I love paperwork, Colonel."
"Would you rather do it now, sir?" she inquires sweetly.
"No, I suppose not." He rubs the spot between his eyes and gives her a slightly bleary smile. "Is there more coffee?"
"Of course." She refills his mug, watching him uneasily. "Didn't you sleep well?" Ever since that fever which delayed their wedding by several weeks, she's tried to keep his workload from burying him and to make sure that he gets enough rest. She understands why he pushes himself so hard, but she worries about him becoming that sick again, so she's constantly on the alert for signs of overtaxation or ill-feeling. It's nothing new, really, she's not watching him any more than she ever did - she's just gotten sharper about identifying signals.
"Once I fell asleep it was fine," he assures her, accepting the fresh brew with a grateful wink. "Just took me a little while to doze off, that's all. Don't worry."
Major Miles is pleasant as always, though still mostly formal. Scar, who accompanies him to the lunch meeting, is largely silent. Riza never knows what to make of him; it's strange enough to have known him as an ally in battle, but stranger still to have him now as an ally in peace. He does not altogether trust either her or Roy, though he trusts them more than he once did and she's willing to accept that. The only Amestrian he seems to completely trust is General Armstrong, for reasons that are his own.
"The Ishvalan representatives are extremely pleased with the plans for the glass factory," Miles informs them. "This is going to provide a host of new employment opportunities as well as trade. You've done well, General."
Roy demurs. "I just had the idea. I don't know the first thing about making glass except that you need sand to do it; my contacts in Central are really the ones who deserve the credit."
"You've grown modest," Miles says good-naturedly. He's not normally one for teasing.
"Me? Never. Just honest."
Miles doesn't press it, but his smile is still there. "How is Fuhrer Grumman?" he asks, turning to Riza.
"Very well, thank you. I spoke with him yesterday."
"Is he still planning to attend the opening of the completed factory? The people are, I think, interested to see him - he has been generous with us since his rise to power."
"As far as I'm given to understand, he's looking forward to it. He's never been to Ishval." This is true. Grumman had nothing to do with the conflict of some years ago, having been already stuck in Eastern Command. Yes, Ishval is in East Amestris, but Fuhrer King Bradley only wanted his own loyal generals involved with the war, not a gentler soul like Grumman who would have tried to stop the bloodshed. This has turned out to be helpful in the long run, since Grumman's name isn't cursed in Ishval the way Bradley's always will be.
"He'll be welcomed." Riza honors Miles for the sincerity of that remark.
"How is General Armstrong?" she inquires, taking a turn at conversation. Out of the corner of her eye she sees Roy's lips twitch, fighting a smile. He and the blonde General are as fond of each other as they have ever been.
"Doing well. I had a message from her recently. The peace talks with Drachma are progressing to her satisfaction."
"I'm glad to hear it. Oh, Scar..." It occurs to her that he might not have heard. He raises his eyebrows, wary at being addressed. "We had a letter from Edward Elric yesterday. His brother Alphonse is engaged to May Chang."
There is a pause. "Really?"
"They'll be coming to Amestris sometime in the next few months. I'm sure she'd like to see you."
The mention of his little friend has a salutary effect on Scar's generally stoic demeanor. "It would be nice to see her as well," he acknowledges with one of his small, rare smiles.
"I'll find out when they're expected to come here. I don't see why they couldn't visit Ishval on their way to the Elric home in Resembool, especially since we're on a more direct railway line now."
He nods. "Thank you." Words of gratitude always sound a little strange coming out of Scar's mouth, perhaps because he has occasion to say them even more rarely than he has occasion to smile. The fact that she was able to elicit both responses from him in the space of one meal is oddly satisfying to Riza.
The tour is short, not least because of the bitter winds. There's only so much to be seen, anyway; the rubble which occupied the spot has been cleared away, and construction on the glass factory is slated to begin in the next two weeks. There had been some brief - very brief - contemplation about possibly letting alchemists erect the building, which would certainly go much faster, but this was roundly vetoed. Instead, it's been decided that the majority of the construction workers will be Ishvalans, with the aid of a few engineers from Central. Miles will be the military's liaison on the project, of course.
"If all goes according to plan," Miles says as they drive back to headquarters, "everything should be finished by early summer. Once we have a better idea of when completion will be, we can more accurately schedule His Excellency's visit."
"Very good." Roy seems tired, to Riza's trained eyes, though to anyone else it's less visible. "Keep me informed, gentlemen, and thank you for all your hard work." (He's always careful not to thank them for their help, because he says that makes it sound like they're doing him a favor and he knows they're not doing anything for his sake.)
Leaving Miles and Scar, they return to Roy's office, where he more or less collapses into his chair and groans. "Can't we go home now?" he asks, giving her his best puppy dog face.
"Sorry, sir, but there's still the joy of paperwork to be done." The office is currently empty, which is the only reason he can get away with what he does next; he knows he can get away with it, and she knows that he knows it. Riza can read the intent in his eyes and folds her arms, fully prepared for what's coming.
"I love you," he says, his tone plaintive and wheedling.
"Yes, General, that's been fairly well established."
"You mean more to me than anything in the world."
"Where are you going with this?" She of course knows exactly where he's going with this.
"Do you think you could..."
She sighs. It's not as if she doesn't have work of her own to do. But he's showing some genuine strain, today, and that's sufficient reason to capitulate; besides, she's never been very good at telling him no in any case. So she takes half the stack of papers and transfers them to her own desk. "Best get started, sir."
"Right."
He picks up a pen, looking gloomy but resigned. Riza, watching him out of the corner of her eye, smiles to herself. "I love you too, sir."
He doesn't say anything, but his mood seems to improve.