The military encampment in Gunja was fully functional and ready to support the Calling. They had cleared two wells without alchemy, which supplied the shower tent, a line of hand pumps outside the latrines, and the mess tent. The various habitation tents had also been set up, and the roughly two hundred soldiers were all moved in.
"The high cleric is the highest religious position the Ishvalans have," said Miles. "An important part of the restoration is recognition of the Ishvalan religion."
Major Miles sat at the table in the small conference room attached to Mustang's staff room at East HQ with the Brigadier General, Breda, and Havoc.
"But I'm not a follower of Ishval," said Roy. "And I won't work from a position of weakness, whatever my past sins. I'm already agreeing to their location and an Ishvalan ceremony as well. It is just as possible for the high cleric to meet his obligations by using a separate dish. I won't be bullied into doing it myself."
"But what if we could make clear that it's a voluntary concession?" asked Breda. "Like you did when you gave them the Philosopher's Stone?"
Roy covered his face with his hands and sighed. Then he looked up again. "Yes, if you can arrange that, I'll do whatever you think I should. But don't make me look weak. Or I swear, I'll wear the other gloves!"
"Why don't you just go first, sir?" asked Breda. "That way you can maintain your ritual purity."
High Cleric Bozidar was meeting with Miles, Breda, Havoc and Little Brother in the Ishvalan Relations Field Office tent in Gunja. They were preparing for Mustang's first official visit to the field office.
"That would defeat the purpose of 'sharing' the sand," answered the high cleric. "If no one else has touched it, it's no different than my having a separate dish. By going last, I impart a form of blessing on everyone who touched the same sand. And on the meeting itself."
"Okay, then what if Mustang goes last?" Breda asked.
"That would be awkward," said the high cleric, "if we keep the same seating arrangement."
No one wanted to touch the seating chart. It had taken long enough to come up with something everyone had agreed on there. And they would have had to bring the headman and Mistress Shan back in.
"So we'd go from the headman clockwise to me," said Breda. "Then skip over Mustang and back down the table on the other side to you, high cleric. You finish, and then back to Mustang?"
"Yes, we could do that," said the high cleric. "Would Mustang accept that? It seems to me that it singles him out even more obviously than a separate dish."
"Yes, it does," said Breda. "But the problem isn't singling him out. No one's trying to deny the blood guilt."
"No?" said Little Brother. "That's what it's going to look like to every Ishvalan at the table."
"Really?" said Miles. "The man gave up his sight for this. You think he's trying to hide?"
"He's a politician," said Little Brother. "It was necessary. No one is questioning that he will do whatever is necessary to make the restoration of Ishval a success."
"Then this must be necessary," said the high cleric. "I just wish I could understand why."
"Breda gets the politics," said Havoc. "But I know what it looks like to me. You're cutting him off from the team you're trying to build. Including even his own team – Miles and Breda."
Bozidar looked at the three Amestrians and it was clear from the looks on their faces that that was exactly the problem.
"So your discomfort is not with the blood guilt, Havoc?" he asked.
"That too," said Havoc. "That's why I put up with the other. People still let me know I'm part of the team in other ways."
"What other ways?" asked Bozidar.
"Well, nothing formal, I guess," said Havoc. "Major Miles and Breda just back me up. And you do too, sir. I guess even Little Brother does, in his own way. I mean, he always listens to me, even when he's mad."
"And Havoc's never the main negotiator," said Miles. "Breda or I are always there. In this meeting, Mustang will be primary on our side. And he stands in directly for the Fuhrer."
"What are we negotiating?" asked Bozidar. "I thought this was just a meet and greet."
"Apparently," said Breda, sounding annoyed, "how to do a meet and greet. So it sounds like we can't even have Mustang go last?"
"Get rid of the sand?" suggested Bozidar. "I just give a blessing in Ishvalan after all the introductions?"
"Headman Benjamin won't like that," said Havoc.
"I don't care," said Bozidar, bluntly. "He's been frankly obstructionist the whole way. If he didn't still have Mistress Shan on his side, I'd try to replace him right now."
"Will anyone else care?" asked Breda. "That would solve so many problems…"
"It's such an old custom…" said Little Brother, reluctantly. "Getting rid of it here and now…"
"Teamwork. Status. Blessing," muttered Breda. "Damn this whole blood guilt thing."
"It is damnable indeed," agreed Bozidar.
"Well, that's what you get for accepting help from a genocidal alchemist," said Breda. "Would you rather have someone else?"
"Major General Armstrong would have been an option," said Miles, testily, "if you hadn't destroyed her reputation on the Promised Day, Breda."
"It was going to be a problem, anyway," said Havoc. "Briggs killed Central troops."
"Enough!" said Little Brother. "Everyone did what they had to do on that day!"
Silence.
High Cleric Bozidar sighed. "I'll use a separate dish and give a general blessing when it comes to me," he said. "Can we all agree on that?"
It was the first time Mustang had visited the Ishvalan Relations Field Office. After Roy greeted Mistress Shan in the traditional Ishvalan way, lunch was brought in from the mess tent. A formal meeting with the Ishvalan leadership was next on the agenda.
The Ishvalan meeting tent could hold a gathering of up to fifty people, so the group around the low rectangular table in the middle looked small in the empty space surrounding it, even though there were eight people seated comfortably around it. The low table had the usual long shallow dish of sand going down the center of the long axis of the table.
Mustang, wearing his earpiece, sat at one of the short sides of the table, directly facing Headman Benjamin, who sat at the other short side. Hawkeye stood several paces behind Mustang, slightly to his right, with her headset on. Havoc stood several paces behind the headman, slightly to the headman's right, also wearing his headset. Both were standing at ease, the stock of the rifle on the ground to the left of the left leg, left hand at the horizontal midpoint of the body covering the muzzle, right hand holding the rifle just below the left hand.
Unlike what had become the usual procedure when Havoc was at meetings with an Ishvalan table, there was no separate dish set aside for Mustang. Instead, the separate dish of sand was next to the high cleric. None of the Ishvalans looked pleased. The headman was clearly angry but resigned to the arrangement.
The headman started the introduction ceremony and the introductions continued clockwise to his left. Mistress Shan introduced herself after the headman, then an Ishvalan alchemist from Central City who gave his name as Hirom. Breda made his own introduction. Then he placed a shallow dish to Mustang's right and put some sand from the center of the table in the dish.
"And you're set, sir," Havoc said softly into his headset.
Mustang slowly took the plain gray glove off of his right hand and touched the sand in his separate dish and then his forehead. "Brigadier General Roy Mustang, Commander, Eastern Headquarters."
Then Miles continued, using the sand from the main dish. "Major George Miles, Commander of the Ishval Relations Office, under the Commander of Eastern Headquarters."
After Little Brother, the High Cleric ended the ceremony, using the sand from the main dish. He gave the general blessing as well, anyway. The point was made. Mustang had conceded to use the separate dish, because the high cleric had been prepared to do so as well.
After the meeting between Mustang and the Ishvalans, it was time to take care of the road between the military encampment and the city center. To underscore the importance of the road, the military was not just going to clear the road, but surface it as well. Once the road between the encampment and the city center was fixed, they could restore the Prayer House and get the city center facilities ready for the Calling.
Hawkeye stayed a few steps behind Mustang so she could keep an eye out for anyone getting too close to the Brigadier. Havoc was on a slight rise with a good view of the entire stretch of road the Brigadier would be working on. He had armed soldiers stationed at regular intervals along the road to provide security.
Breda and Corporal Kaufman Mauser were with Roy. Mauser stood on his left, and provided his arm to guide the Brigadier. Breda was on Roy's right.
"Corporal, do you have the wooden barriers set up on both sides of the road?" asked Roy, after they had gotten to the planned starting place for the road work.
"Yes, sir," said Kaufman. He was still somewhat in awe that he was actually guiding and talking to Brigadier General Mustang himself, the man responsible for setting up this whole restoration process in the first place.
"Good," Roy answered. "I assume there's a rope connecting the barriers?"
"Yes, sir," said Mauser.
"Corporal, please place my left hand on it."
Mauser placed Roy's hand where he'd indicated.
"Right, I have it," said Roy. "That gives me width of the road. Now I should be able to follow this…"
He ran his hand to the left, toward Mauser, until he came to another rope at right angles to the first one.
"This rope is connected to the barrier going the length of the road toward the city, correct?"
"Yes, sir."
"And that gives the other dimension of my rectangle," said Roy. "We're doing it this way because the dimensions have to be precise. We don't want to disturb the graves. Now I'm not going to use a circle. I'll place both my hands on the ground here, then I'll straighten up and touch the knot at the intersection of the two strings with my left hand. You may need to help me get it there."
"Yes, sir."
Roy pressed his hands together, squatted down to touch the ground with both hands, then straightened up, and got his left hand on the string. Mauser moved it down to the knot. All of the rubble for the first block of the road was pulverized.
"Your turn, Corporal," said Roy. "Move the sand over to the side of the road on the other side of the barriers." He could have done it himself, of course, but he wanted to get an idea of what Mauser could do.
"Erm," said Mauser, "I usually draw the circle big enough to include the area I want to affect. I've never drawn a circle that big."
"No," said Roy, "you certainly don't need to do that." He showed Mauser where to draw the circle. "That will set the origin point. This is going to be a rectangle, so you put that symbol in the center, and then the x and y coordinate defining the diagonal go to the left and right of it. Do you have the drawing, Breda?"
"Yes, sir," said Breda. He showed Mauser a sheet on his clipboard, with the correct dimensions written in.
"So, here," said Mauser, and drew the circle.
"Double check him, Breda," said Roy.
"Looks good."
"Activate, corporal," said Roy.
Mauser bent down to activate the circle, and all the sand Mustang had created from breaking down the rubble gathered itself neatly on the far side of the barriers on each side of the road, for a distance of one block.
"Wow!" Mauser couldn't help exclaiming. "It worked!"
"Glad to hear it," said Roy, smiling. "Let's continue clearing the rubble down to where the city starts, then we'll lay down the surfacing on the way back. You'll only need a slight modification of your circle to lay the asphalt."
An hour later, the road was cleared and resurfaced and they were back at the Field Office end of the road.
"Can you show me how to break up the big rocks, sir?" asked Kaufman, excited. "It would really help clearing the wells."
"That's more complicated," said Roy. "I don't have the muscle memory to draw a circle blind from scratch. We're going to have to get an alchemist who can see to draw that for you the first time."
Later that day, there was another less solemn meeting planned in the mess tent. All the military volunteers wanted to meet the man who'd set up the Ishvalan Restoration project. And given up his sight to do it.
Despite the official story about the Promised Day and Bradley, there was no love lost for the former Fuhrer, whom they all still blamed for their orders in Ishval in 1908. And it was already an open secret that the Ishvalans credited some of Mustang's subordinates from Ishval, a Briggs soldier called Buccaneer, and Little Brother with killing Bradley. None of them believed the official story that Brigadier Generals Klemin and Edison had actually masterminded Bradley's defeat.
Roy met with the soldiers as they cycled through the mess tent in seatings of roughly fifty at a time. He spent time at each table for each seating, talking with each one, shaking hands, and listening to their stories.
"Me next, sir. Here's my hand."
"No, don't worry, they're not those gloves."
"Oh, then let me shake his hand too."
"You're really blind, sir?"
"Don't be stupid, of course he is – see, no pupils."
"And he's still in charge? Wow!"
"You can still sign your name, sir, can't you? This is for my brother's widow. He died in Ishval."
"Klemin and Edison are a couple of cowards. You're really the one who took Bradley down, right sir?"
"No, it took a lot of people to do that, and I never touched him, myself. But if you quote me, I'll have to disavow all knowledge…"
Laughter.
"Thank you, sir." "Thank you." "Thanks."
"I finally have some hope."
"I came this close, even had the gun to my head…"
"You saved my life." "… gave me hope." "I feel human again."
"Thank you." "… hope…" "… saved my life…"
"… lifesaver…" "… lifesaver…" "… you're a lifesaver…"
Hours later, he and Hawkeye drove back to East HQ in the dark.
Author's Note:
This occurs just before and during Mustang's and Hawkeye's first visit to the Ishvalan Field Office from Chapter: "Ishvalan Relations Office in the Field" from my fic "The Toll."