II

Colonel Aaron Miller tugged profusely at his collar as he stared out across the city of Amestris from the balcony of the Drachman diplomatic mission. The turtleneck style uniforms of the Drachman army were, if anything, for aesthetics. To the casual onlooker, they were part of the mystique that made Drachman soldiers look like the fierce, elegant elites that they were. But the soldiers knew better. Goddamn tailor he thought to himself. Goddamn sonuvabitch. He unbuttoned the top button and finally relieved himself of the horrid choking feeling. Fuck the dress code. He was the highest ranking officer at the embassy anyway. There was a mild knock at the door of his office as he turned to walk back inside. "Come in." he said. The door creaked open slowly and a man much younger than the 42-year-old colonel stepped in.

"Something just arrived." said Captain Kale Abbas. "It's from Fuhrer Bradley."

"First things first. Call me a fucking tailor. The next time you come in, you may find blue-faced on the floor." Kale gave a slight smile. "Onto business now. So what's this letter?"

"I don't know sir, I haven't had a look at it yet. It's addressed to the Drachman ambassador and it's an official state letter from the Amestrisian Chancellery." Colonel Miller took the letter and gently lifted the flap to reveal the stiff paper inside. He unfolded the letter and read it silently as he crumpled the envelope and threw into his wastebasket.

"Motherfucker." he said.

"What is it sir?" Aaron said nothing. He continued to read, then nodded his head and turned to the Captain, holding the letter upwards and shaking it.

"This is an ultimatum."

"For what, sir?"

"There threatening to move against us if the annexation takes place." Captain Abbas walked over and retrieved the now infamous letter. "Cocksuckers." shouted Miller. "They have no right to tell us this shit. That's sovereign land, and it doesn't have to answer to them." he shouted as he sat down at his desk and reached into the drawers and drew from it some paper and a pen. He then reached for the phone on the edge of his desk and picked it up. The signal automatically was sent to the Imperial palace in Drachma, where one of Emperor Cedric's adjutants answered the call. "I must speak with his majesty. This is urgent." Abbas sat down and quietly listened to the Colonel as he frantically strummed his fingers on the desk. "What do you mean he's indisposed! You…never mind. You must make sure this message gets passed on to his majesty." After briefly explaining the situation, Colonel Miller slammed down the receiver and looked over to his aid. "Pack your bags, Captain. I don't know how much longer we'll be sticking around."

XXXXXXX

"Is he still asleep?" asked Major Hughes as he approached Al outside of Colonel Mustang's office.

"Yes, he's been on the couch since last night. But Colonel Mustang said he would personally wake him soon." Maes' eyes widened upon hearing this comment.

"Al, did he really say he would personally wake him up?" inquired the Major in a disconcerting tone.

"Yeah. Why do you look so concerned?" Hughes said nothing, instead simply burying his face in the palm of his hand. A few moments later, there was an explosion that seemed to emanate from the room. Al jumped and covered his head while Hughes simply stood and watched the smoke seep from under the doorway.

"What the fuck was that?" The two instantly recognized the sound of Ed's voice. Alphonse burst into the door while Maes' brushed aside some of the thick, black air in the hallway. Colonel Mustang was sitting very non-chalantly at his desk with his legs crossed while Ed was sitting upright on a small love seat to one side, a vein in his forehead standing out about a foot or less.

"Sorry for the rude awakening sleeping beauty, but there's business to be taken care of." Ed reached up and rubbed the top of his head, brushing out a bit of soot. He then swung his legs over and sat on the edge of the small sofa.

"There's always business to be taken care of. What I want to know is whether or not it's worth any of my time." responded the irate young alchemist.

"What I tell you to do should never be considered a waste of time, especially with what's happening right now." Roy sighed and turned to look out the window. "Yesterday, the Fuhrer sent an ultimatum to the Drachman diplomatic mission. It stated that if their annexation of Ishbal takes place, the Amerstrisian government would take measures to deal with any potential hostilities." The flame alchemist turned back. "That means there's a possibility of war, colonel." Ed raised his eyebrow at the odd comment.

"Colonel?"

"Lieutenant Colonel, to be exact. Congratulations, Mr. Elric."

"Why the sudden promotion?"

"We're being placed on high alert. The Fuhrer wants the state alchemists to be ready for mobilization. As I said, there's a threat of war, and if I'm deployed, he needs qualified personnel to watch the home-front."

"The home front?" Colonel Mustang handed Ed a piece of paper that had been lying on his desk.

"Yes, Ed. Here is your order of promotion, and your new assignment. We need you to take charge of the home-guard state alchemists." The fullmetal alchemist rubbed his eyes and skimmed over the order, then smiled.

"Well, it's about time you had me do something useful." ­

XXXXXXXX

For the first time in nearly four weeks, the 28-year-old Emperor Cedric III was alone, sitting quietly in his study with his coat draped over the back of his chair. He was reclined rather lazily in a position in that most would deem unfit for a monarch, with his body slumped and legs agape. The Drachman ruler, however, didn't care. To him, he was in paradise. No advisors, no strategists, no diplomats rambling about the current state of affairs. To Cedric, maintaining a balance between work and pleasure was all important to keeping the state running smoothly, and right now, pleasure was the ruling virtue. He sighed as he stood up and stepped forward to one of the shelves and removed a large, leather-bound edition entitled The Bases of Alchemic Catalysts. He could spend hours if he wished flipping through the pages of these periodicals, letting his mind drift until being interrupted by some piece of state business. "Your majesty?" There was the state business. A hard knock came at the oak doors. "Your majesty, are you in there?" Cedric recognized the voice. It was his foreign advisor, a tall twig of a man named Arthur Feiller.

"Yes I'm here." replied the young monarch as he shut the book and shoved it back onto the shelf. The door creaked open, and Feiller stepped in.

"Ah, your majesty. We have just received words from our diplomatic mission in Amestris." Cedric sighed.

"Nothing good, I presume?" Feiller ignored the snide comment.

"It is with regards to the Ishbal annexation. Fuhrer Bradley has taken it as hostile action."

"Rubbish. He understands perfectly well this is a territorial matter. Anything we do he's going see as a hostile action."

"I fear, your majesty, you do not understand my point. Bradley has indicated that he may take action against you if the annexation takes place." Cedric paused as he walked over to a small drink trolley and poured himself a small glass of dark, red wine. "He's threatening war."

"I gathered that." Cedric took a long drink, draining the glass, and then slamming it back down on the trolley. "But don't be so dense, Feiller. We've known it was only a matter of time before something like this happened. Send a reply to this ultimatum. The annexation will take place, and to view it in any hostile light is a merely a conclusion based on previous aggressions. It is a purely diplomatic issue between our government and the Ishbali people." The Drachman monarch then gathered his cap and jacket, slipping them on as he walked past Arthur and out the door of his study. "Get in contact with the Public Relations Minister. I wish to make a radio address as soon as possible." he said as they entered the entrance hall of the imperial palace and exited towards the street. A pair of armed guards marched out beside him as he walked out the door. At the bottom of a long series of steps was a car that never left the palace until it was ordered.

"Yes, your majesty." The thin man bowed as did the chauffeur when he opened the door.

"If Bradley wants war, we can't stop him, but that doesn't mean we'll allow him to catch us off-guard."