"I wouldn't dream of it," Prince Junjie didn't dare try the woman holding the sharp instrument to his neck.

"Smart man," said Ms. Fontaine and removed the point from his delicate skin.

"My aren't you terrifying," Junjie laughed in an uneasy manner. He put his hand to his throat to makes sure she hadn't drawn any blood. His palm came away clean.

"Thank you very much," Margot responded.

The automail surgeon gathered the medical instruments and supplies from her workspace by the bed. Sitting at the vanity she wiped the scissors clean with a piece of cotton soaked in isopropyl alcohol. Prince Junjie watched the unflappable woman return the impromptu weapon to her surgical instrument case.

"If you want to sleep have at it but I'll have to wake you in a few hours."

"Thank you. I know the drill," he replied.

"I'll bet you do."

Junjie laid down on her bed on his side. Eyes half mast he watched her seal the bottle of alcohol before taking a lighter and cigarette case out of the pocket of her suit jacket. Excluding attempted assassins, Margot Fontaine counted as the second person to ever threaten him with physical harm in such an open manner.

"I see now why my cousin chose you for her automail doctor," Junjie said.

Margot lighted her cigarette. Prince Junjie wrinkled his nose at the smell. She let the smoke out of her lungs in a steady stream.

"Is that so?"

"You're two of a kind," he said in admiration.

"I'll take that as a compliment."

"As well you should," The Ninth Prince smiled a bit and shut his eyes. He fell asleep before Margot Fontaine finished her cigarette.


Wei bound the tower of choux à la crème with spun sugar. The croquembouche looked almost too good to eat. The chef still regretted the lack of garnish but could do no more with the time he had. Without so much as a wobble Wei and his sous chef Huang moved the recreated centerpiece onto a service trolley.

Under the supervision of the sous chef two steady servers wheeled the trolley out of the kitchen. Wei wiped the back of his hand across his forehead and breathed a sigh of relief.

"Good job everyone," he declared. "Anyone who wants to watch the fireworks can do so after they clean their stations."

"Thank you, chef," came the resounding reply of his kitchen staff.

Wei set about cleaning his own station. Huang returned to the kitchen with the trolley and gave him a thumbs up. He nodded to his sous chef.

Over at the line a porter ladled a batch of hot cocoa into cups for the staff, while another garnished the well deserved treat with marshmallows. The staff completed their individual work and filtered out with their hot beverages. Soon only the head chef and the hapless server remained in the kitchen.

Wei removed his apron and laid it across his station. He poured himself a glass of port from his private reserve. A small reward for a successful evening.

Over at the scullery sink Peizhi dropped a tea cup. Wei lost his temper at the sound of shattering porcelain. He set the bottle of port down hard on the woodblock before him. In a fury the chef marched over to the server turned dishwasher who still had his back to him.

"What did I tell you about-"

As Wei drew near the server whipped around.

The edge of the knife Peizhi slashed across Wei's throat was honed so sharply that he hardly felt the cut. Across Peizhi's white apron Wei's blood spattered like droplets of pigment from a shaken paintbrush. The chef wasn't good with blood on the best of days. The sight of his own never failed to make him faint.

Wei's eyes rolled into the back of his head. He collapsed onto the pristine floor of his well kempt kitchen. Above him Peizhi stood wiping the knife clean on the hem of his apron. The server dropped the knife into the sink, took hold of the chef by the ankles, and proceeded to drag him into the pantry.

Once he had the chef out of sight Peizhi ripped off his apron. He used it to wipe up the streak of blood left behind on the floor. From the corridor Peizhi heard the sound of footsteps. He cursed under his breath and tossed the apron into the pantry. The cloth fluttered and fell onto his victim like a shroud. Peizhi needed more time to thoroughly clean up the scene, but time was of the essence.

In reckless abandon, Peizhi left the weapon in the sink. Safe in the knowledge Wei would bleed out before anyone found him, Peizhi hurried out the door.

His work here was done.


"Why do I let him talk me into these things?" Jin grumbled to himself.

He turned up the collar of his coat and crossed his arms as he walked through the streets. Instead of having dinner with his wife and baby, he'd spent the evening collecting missives from all around the city. The chilled air had turned freezing over the last hour.

Jin was miserably underdressed for the weather.

The day had been so lovely he hadn't bothered to bring a scarf or hat. Daiyu had fussed at him for that when he'd left this morning. As usual his wife was right. He planned on telling her that the second he got home, but he had one more dead drop to hit. After that he had to head back to the stables until after the fireworks.

He didn't look forward to telling her what he'd been up to all evening. His wife wouldn't be happy when she found out he was running errands for Shu again. Daiyu decidedly disliked his blacksmith friend who moonlighted as a spy. Still, he'd tell her all the same because they didn't keep secrets from each other.

Jin turned down an alleyway in the empty marketplace. Halfway down the side street he pulled a loose brick from the wall. He needn't have bothered coming all this way. There was no note behind the brick.

"Figures," he muttered.

He replaced the loose brick back in the niche and turned to retrace his steps. Instead he stopped in his tracks. At the end of the alleyway stood a figure cloaked in black and wearing a ghostly white mask. Wind whipped through the alleyway. Jin heard a sound behind him and looked over his shoulder. Another such figure stood at the opposite end.

In other words they had him flanked. Both of them carried a club and each of them pulled the pin of a smoke grenade. They tossed them.

A firework burst into red sparks overhead.


"Ow! Watch it," Edward Elric exclaimed at the man who just bodychecked him on the way out of the kitchen. He put a hand to his offended shoulder and glared after the guy, who didn't even bother to toss an apology his way.

"Excuse you!"

Edward flipped him off behind his back. He pushed open the door to the kitchen and stepped inside. The theoretical alchemist expected the room to be teeming with people, but the kitchen appeared entirely empty.

"Hello?"

The door swung shut behind him.

"Anybody work here?" He asked the empty room.

Silence.

"Guess not…"

Edward swept his eyes over the expanse of the room. Cups of hot chocolate steamed on a table. The marshmallows on top melted into a foam. A bottle of port and an untouched glass set beside an apron on one of the stations.

It was a ghost town.

Having spent the last half hour wandering the empty corridors alone in search of this place he found it more than a bit creepy. Ed reminded himself he was a man of science. There were no such things as ghosts. Ling's palace was just drafty and too big and definitely not haunted.

The sink dripped.

If the lights so much as flicker I am out of here…

Slowly, ever so slowly, Edward crossed the room to the walk in fridge. He opened the door carefully and peeked inside. The temperature was cold enough that Edward could see his breath. Edward decided to find something to carry ice in first before he ventured inside.

Shutting the door he turned around and stopped. Something that looked a hell of a lot like blood seeped out from underneath the door to the pantry. Edward's heart pounded erratically behind the cage of his ribs. He approached the pantry in apprehension. Ed pushed the door open with one hand.

He screamed.


In the courtyard outside of the Hall of Serenity the majority of the party guests gathered to watch the fireworks show. The emperor wasn't among them. Ling sat at the bar with a glass of lime and soda, eating maraschino cherries, and waiting for Lan Fan to return. He knew how much she loved fireworks; He didn't care to see them without her.


A firework burst into red sparks over the palace.

The Xingese woman remained in the alleyway alone and altogether unaware. Blood pooled beneath her head. Lan Fan's body shivered in a vain to keep her warm. The automail arm accelerated the effects of hypothermia.

No one looked for her.


Edward Elric dropped to his knees beside the bleeding boy on the pantry floor. The pantry door swung back and forth, alternating between casting shadows and light upon the two of them. Ed yanked the crumpled, crimson stained cloth off his body. Barely conscious but alive the boy clutched at the side of his throat and made a choking sound.

The theoretical alchemist's fear transformed to panic. Nevertheless, Ed didn't let the panic set in. He looked around him for something to stop the bleeding. Edward spied a shelf of linens. Wasting no time he grabbed a stack of cloth napkins from the shelf. He dropped back onto his knees, the right one twinging at the force, and pulled the boy's hand away from his neck.

Taking four of the napkins he pressed them to the Xingese kid's neck and applied pressure.

Eyes wide in terror the boy stared up at him. His breathing had a worrisome rattle to it. Edward feared he had a laceration to his trachea. He couldn't do anything about it if he did. All Ed could do was apply pressure to the wound and try to keep him calm.

"I've got you," Ed told him.

He hoped it wasn't a lie.

The boy blinked tears from his eyes.

They trailed down his temples and into his hair.

"I'm going stay right here with you. We're gonna wait for someone to come and they're going to get someone to fix this."

He tried to speak but could only produce choking sounds. The napkins soaked through with blood. Edward grabbed more from the stack next to him, leaving the ones already pressed against the boy's neck in place, and added to the pressure dressing.

"Don't try to talk," Edward shushed.

The boy sucked a breath through his bloodstained teeth.

"You're going to be fine. Want to know how I know? Because I've got my hand on your jugular. If we were dealing with your carotid artery then we'd have something to worry about."

Edward hoped he told the truth.