To alchemists, they consider themselves the pinnacle of human advancement. Their careers included years of painstaking research and lifelong learning, with most alchemists starting off at crazy young ages. Many capable alchemists only really start their career in their late 30s, after starting their learning at ages as little as 5. For that much hard work, it is understandable why they would value themselves in such high regard.

For those outside of the alchemical circle though, many viewed them as ominous weirdos, some even considering them as foolish as they were intelligent.

Imagine, training so hard for so much of your lifetime, only to lock yourself up in a laboratory for most of your life dedicating yourself to research that most of the time leads to dead ends. And even when fruit is beared, all you can do is publish in cipher to prevent abuse, resulting in many people considering you the worst cookbook author, making many inedible meals. There is no honour, no pride. Just endless years of research towards a deeper understanding that may never be reached.

For state alchemists however, it was more towards condemnation. To have so much potential, and yet to sign your life away to work for the military. To have potentially world changing research, only for it to be restricted towards tactical means, all in exchange for a rank on files, and a pocket watch. To be a weapon for the military, with your abilities used to kill and destroy instead of build and grow.

But for state alchemists however, they all have their own reasons for signing on.

Some do it for the money, of which you could see an alchemist become a heavy millionaire after only spending a decade in the service.

Some do it for the thrill, with the idea of being in combat and killing enemies exciting them.

And there are those who do it for a "higher purpose", whatever that even means. To use alchemy as a means to a greater good for themselves, the country and the world.

One of these state alchemists was non other than Brigadier-General Roy Mustang, codenamed "Flame". Back when he was a Colonel (COL), he had the high goal of climbing the ranks to become Fuhrer, to lead the country, and to then change it from the inside out. He was sick of the endless wars he had seen fought through his time in the service. Too many men he had seen killed in action, too many children that will never see the smiles of their fathers again. Too many innocents killed for some misguided ideals, and too many soldiers haunted by their acts in war.

With his promotion, not only was he put in charge of administering all the State Alchemist as Chief Alchemist, he was tasked to lead a new unit of the military: the Amestrian Military Deployment Force. This unit's main goal was to be deployed to other territories, not for conquest, but for humanitarian aid and social stabilisation. And the first place on the list was none other than the Ishvalan province, a land ravaged by the military during the civil war.

On the surface, the war was just a conflict between extremist groups and the military and ultimately culminated in a full out genocide. Going one more level deeper, the extremists were just an excuse for the Amestrian state to kill and gain more land in her constant hunger for conquest that spanned decades before. But anyone who knew it deeper, knew the truth. It was just one conquest out of multiple, one war of many that was meant to fulfill some ancient prophecy to fulfil some sick maniac's wishes of being god.

While this maniac got his wish of omniscience, he was now just the plaything of God himself.

All this sacrifice, all for nothing.

The BG vowed to right the wrongs of the past. No, that would be overestimating it. It was more to just make up the dues he owed to the people of the land when he was just a Lieutenant Colonel, those whose families he reduced to ash.

He would work to restore Ishval, and make sure that such a war would never happen again.

But this restoration may have to wait until later, he thought as he saw his adjutant, Captain Riza Hawkeye, run into his office with a letter.

"BG, I think you should read this," she said as she pulled out a letter from her pocket, with a slight pant in her words.

The letter was clearly addressed to her, with her name written on it. The opened stamp was unique, with a special imprint.

He could recognise Falman's stamp anywhere. From what he heard, the Warrant Officer was just appointed to become the new regimental sergeant major of the Military Intelligence Unit, located 20km away. He always had a certain way of making sure the letter was unreadable by any couriers, with a combination of ciphers and vague wording that he taught the rest of the team when they were together.

"Sergeant Major Falman will be here soon," the Captain said.

The letter was written with a lot of shorthand, with scribbles suggesting a haste. With a quick running through a decryption, the letter came out.

Sir,

I am currently writing to you to alert you to a sensitive situation that I found that may be consequential to the restoration of Ishval, or even the current peace in the country. As my new appointment means more eyes on my movements, this letter will have to do. I will be briefing you in person by the time you get this letter.

As he finished reading the decryption, the Warrant Officer walked into his office.

"Morning, sir. I trust you have read my letter to you?"

"Yes I have, Falman. So, how did you manage to leave your camp with so many eyes?" Mustang said, with the same cheeky grin on his face.

"I told them that I needed to pick up and handle some final files with you that I had not finished before my transfer."

"Well, it is good to see another familiar face again. So, let's get to business. What is the situation?"

"Well sir, do you remember the situation on the Philosopher's stones?"

"Well, of course."

After all, how could he forget? These stones were the key of the past 5 years and all its horrors. Souls, all distilled into energy. So many souls, so many people. After the coup de'tat, Mustang ordered a rounding up of all the philosopher's stones made from all the conflicts in those few years, from all those killed in prison, where they would be kept under strict surveillance, never to be removed again unless for some extremely important purpose, or when a way to free those trapped was found.

"Well, sir, from the records from Dr. Marcoh and from my own team's findings, we have a problem."

"We are missing some stones."

"On what magnitude are we talking about here?"

"About 5 of level 3."

That dumbfounded the BG. It typically required a large amount of souls to make a philosopher's stone. Even if it was to be assumed that there was usage of the stones before, it should not have been that bad, that the equivalent of 12 prisons' worth of souls was just not accounted for. Anyone with that number of stones could easily make their own small team of homunculi, or have the power to level a nation.

"Well, that's definitely a problem."

"However, we have a lead. When we backtracked to shipping records out of the country, we found a suspicious set of goods sent to Ostania."

"Why is it suspicious?"

"Because they were sent over by the Devil's Nest, Greed's previous hideout."

"Do we know who it was sent to?"

"To some man called Adolf Heinreich, but it didn't matter, as the train that was transporting the package was then hijacked with all the packages stolen."

"This seems like a dead end."

"Not necessarily. Some of my sleeper cells in Ostania had alerted me of some rumors that cropped up in Ostania, of an organisation called Garden, that had agents with the ability to fight an entire army singlehandedly."

So we have some unaccounted stones, a stolen set of parcels (that may have already been planned to be hijacked in the first place), and hearsay of a group of superhuman fighters. Even if they are just rumours, we cannot rule out the fact homunculi have been in production outside of Amestris.

Mustang knew the ability that homunculi had. Alongside the growing tensions with Ostania and Westeris, war breaking out again could become armageddon like he saw before. Even on a fully nationalistic mindset, the use of homunculi could set off a precedent where the world will try to make these biological weapons, a secret they have been keeping in Amestrian soil to prevent so much more bloodshed.

"So what do you propose, Falman?"

"I am hoping to send in one of our strongest agents to investigate on Garden, and retrieve the stones without much attention."

"Alright, who do you think is up for the job then?"

"Agent Owl."

Mustang smiled. He never thought he would hear that codename again.

"Alright, let's send him in."

Author's note: Dang, it has been a while, hasn't it! So sorry for the late updates. I have been busy in my life in the military (I know right, crazy), so finding time to type out the next chapter has been hard. Don't y'all worry though, I have the main story already mostly planned out already, so get ready for more steady updates.