July 10th, 1996

Tore was beginning to think that their plans might actually be working. Without a major attack since the train incident in Creta, it seemed that having his teams sniffing around everywhere to make it harder for Arsenic, and its various possible allies, to work unnoticed, was keeping them hopping. Or, at least, too busy trying to figure out how to plan a follow up attack to actually pull something off.

Sifter and Marble's successful mission to discover the supply source that Arsenic's alchemists had used to get illegal supply had chased out the one lab. Investigations had managed to discover several likely locations owned by the same company that might be, or had clearly previously been, used for similar purposes. Either as small secret alchemy labs, or storage for the types of supplies they had taken off the Arsenic fighters that had died in their earlier attacks. An investigation into the business practices of Duluth Lange was limited, given he wasn't supposed to know about it, but definitely found several of those mysteriously under-rented or free-of-rent locations. Tore just wished they could, for certain, tie it to Brigadier General Dattin in West City. Tore had a separate investigation working in that direction, from inside the military directly, but they had to proceed carefully. Lange, even if he was involved, was likely only one sponsor providing money. It was also possible he was the one providing the weapons and supplies as well, given his business connections.

Not that Tore thought Dattin was any kind of mastermind behind it all. She didn't have the access to do half of what Arsenic was doing, even with Lange's contacts and finances. Tore was more and more certain that there must be, at the very least, a body of people in charge of Arsenic. Cells scattered throughout the country, possibly the continent, made more sense than that they could somehow hide in a singular fortress-like headquarters. That had only ever worked for alchemists in Drachma, which had thousands of miles of empty rugged mountain territory to hide in and exploit.

Amestris still had empty spaces, but not nearly as many as there had been a century ago. More roads, more trains, and a larger population made it harder to hide. So did their new aircraft, which Tore and General Bridges had set to flying practice maneuvers over a wide variety of terrain across the country. While they were being mostly used to deliver supplies between military headquarters, and patrol on the Amestrian side of borders, they had started including using them to deliver emergency supplies to more towns, especially more remote areas during whichever weather season caused emergencies in different parts of the country. The planes were small enough they could land on any appropriate length straight stretch of road.

It gave them practice, it gave them good PR, and it was a great way to spy from the air on wide swaths of the country looking for anything that might have been a terrorist organization outpost that was not tucked away in a city.

Which was why Tore was becoming convinced that they weren't out in the middle of nowhere. They had to be in the cities, where people wouldn't see them and they could get lost in the crowds.

That was only one of the concerns on Tore's plate, of course. There was also the political situation with Creta. Hopefully with Maes and Elena in Creta, they could get that taken care of. There were certain plans he could not put into action until the Cretan President put his name to the treaties that Amestris, Xing, Aerugo, Kartos, and the G.R.I.D. had already signed. There had to be internal pressure within Creta for it as well, even if Callius' devotees wanted a more isolated and internally focused government. The last thing Tore wanted was a long-term conflict—even just a verbal one—with their western neighbors.

Tore hoped that Franz and Sara's visit to Pylos was going well. The Cretan elections were in September. While he needed this political situation resolved before that, it would be incredibly helpful, going forward, if Thrakos Argyros won the election. Not only because Tore liked the man, but because putting the party back in power in Creta that preferred a wide international cooperation would be better for continental stability. The fact that Callius did not want Amestrian involvement in the matter of any Arsenic actions in Creta was a source of frustration. It didn't help that the man had all but blamed Amestris for it. Not that he had dared to say the government was involved in that, or the attack in Drachma, but he had suggested more than once in inference in interviews that it was Amestris' problem, and clearly Amestris should be taking care of it.

If I could find every last one of them and strike them unconscious, I'd do it in a heartbeat. Not dead, given the option. Tore couldn't wish death on a mass of people for whom he was still responsible. This was going to come to a head, and he was going to have to deal with it when it happened. He just hoped to do it with the least amount of loss on both sides.

Tore finally returned to office after a busy morning and afternoon of inspections, sparring with the regular soldiers today—he couldn't show favoritism to the alchemists, and he was good enough he wasn't going to lose to any of the youngsters, even if they got some good moves on him—meetings with Bridges about the latest flight schedules, plane upgrades, and the instigation of the new program to ramp up cross-training the engineers who were capable in piloting skills. Even if they would never be the primary pilots, when they had an engineer on board, it would be helpful if the pilots were ever incapacitated—or they ever had to fly long distances without landing again—to have more than one person in a plane who knew how to fly it.

He had missed lunch again, making a visit over to the military hospital to check in on the dozen soldiers currently there, mostly for accidental injuries in training or on the job, though a few of them had taken injuries in missions of more dangerous nature; one shot by a store robber he had been sent in with military police to apprehend; another with a leg bone broken in six places rescuing children from a rock collapse in the mountains. Even with alchemical healing, he would need several weeks of treatment and regular healing before the bones were in condition for him to go back to work. At least he hadn't lost the leg. Tore honestly cared about them. He'd been injured enough to know that it meant a lot when your superiors recognized your work, and your sacrifice.

Today's security officer (and assistant) had been one of the junior officers in his office, Second Lieutenant Peter Shand, and Tore felt only mildly guilty for making the man keep up with him. The younger man had kept a good attitude through the whole day, but it was his first time chasing Tore around. He looked vaguely relieved when they finally returned to Tore's office, then nervous when the Sensation Alchemist met them at Tore's inner door looking irritated.

"You were supposed to be back here at twelve-hundred."

Tore did not glance at the clock. He had his watch, and he knew that it was almost fifteen-hundred. "I didn't have any meetings, and the hospital round took longer than planned," he replied without apology. "Has the report from the State Alchemist's office arrived?" Any new word on how things were going with Clarina's attempts to lure Arsenic into recruiting her would come through Tringham. So far, there had been no word of any outreach since Alabaster and Proteus's performance eight days ago. Alabaster had put part two into action, with their permission, but appearing to sneak certain highly restricted supplies out of the same stores that they suspected Strobe and his accomplice—whom Ted had identified from his look at them as actually being a regular soldier, First Lieutenant Hobbs, and not a State Alchemist after all—were stealing from. Should anyone want to look at her work, she was still working late on those projects, and she had permission from Tringham to work on alchemical compounds that were generally not permitted for military purposes. In this case, poisons.

Flynn looked like she wanted to scold him. Tore refrained from smiling. "It's waiting on your desk, along with the papers that need to be prioritized for signatures this afternoon. The stack is marked."

"Thank you, Sensation," Tore nodded as he stepped past her, closing the door and finally finding himself alone for the first time all day. If alone counted when there were over a dozen people in the office just outside the door.

The papers were there, with the promised report on top, and a tray from the mess with a cover over it. Tore wondered if the food was still good, but then decided it must be. Flynn always had something waiting for him when he arrived, and it was never something that couldn't sit for a bit without going bad. She knew why he was doing things the way he was, and she approved or she would never have taken the position, but that didn't mean she didn't get irritated when he missed a meal.

Charisa had started complaining about it to, though at least she had a right to. He was always starving by the time he got home, especially on the days when he sparred with the men, or did full on combat drills with the State Alchemists.

Tore was expecting a sandwich or something, but when he pulled the lid off the tray he found himself facing a fresh hot steak, smothered in a mushroom sauce, with grilled potatoes and broccoli heaped beside it. While he had always known that it was possible to order up more custom items from the mess, especially for the ranking officers, he had never taken advantage of that option. Apparently Caroline Flynn had taken it upon herself to do it for him. I bet Breda ate like this on the regular.

His stomach responded to the smell like a rabid wolf, and Tore succumbed to the need to eat first. If he lost any more weight his wife was going to kill him, and it did smell amazing. He polished off the whole plate in a matter of minutes, chased it with a glass of water, then grabbed Tringham's report off the top, and opened the sealed envelope.

Fortunately, Tringham knew what Tore wanted to know first, and the update on the Alabaster Alchemist's recent work was right there at the top of the first page.

Tore had to refrain from letting out a whoop at the very brief, but meaningful report.

Contact has been made. Concern was expressed over Alabaster's well-being due to an altercation reported the night of the second. Alabaster reports an upcoming meeting with contacts to discuss moving forward as planned.

Vague enough that no one who didn't know what was going out would necessarily understand it, but it spoke worlds to him. Now, they just had to hope it went where they suspected.

There were days when Maes enjoyed being in the middle of everything. The last couple of weeks in Creta had been both frustrating but also immensely satisfying. Elena's team had been deep in negotiations with the Cretan government's new ambassadors who were responsible for the negotiations right here in the Cretan government buildings. The buildings were centuries older than the ones in Amestris, and far grander. Most importantly, however, it was an opportunity to support Amestris, and international cooperation, more directly than he ever had during his own military career.

An irony that, but Maes had made peace years ago with the fact that he could simply never even attempt to measure up to the legend that was his father, Roy Mustang, Flame Alchemist; the man who supplanted Fuhrer Bradley and brought Amestris into a new age. Nor could he ever really try and measure up to his own mother, Riza Hawkeye Mustang, daughter of the creator of Flame Alchemy, keeper of its secrets, Sharpshooter, and simply one of the most formidable presences ever. The only person capable of handling the Flame Alchemist.

Even his son did a better job of living up to the family name in that way. Maes was incredibly proud of Roy, Firestorm Alchemist, hero in both the Xing and Drachman civil wars, on top of being an excellent husband and father. Certainly, better than Maes felt he had done in those regards at times.

His daughters had never felt bound to the traditions or name of Mustang. They had all gone their own ways, and been successful doing what they loved. With even Mireia grown and out of the house, he and Elena had been free to travel as much as her diplomatic work, and their own wishes, permitted. His baby was twenty-four, and Roy was forty-two. Maes tried not to think about how old that made him. He was just grateful his children had all turned out better, in his mind, than himself.

Doing this work with Elena, supporting her, made him feel fulfilled. Somehow, he was more content in the supporting role, and had been for years. They made a great team, with her in the spotlight.

Like right now, when she sat around the table full of ambassadors negotiating what might be the closing moments to finally getting an agreement made with the Cretan government. For almost all of that two weeks proposals had gone back and forth, with word coming back then next day that Callius was still not pleased, or refused to sign until other concessions were made.

There were several points that Callius had disliked in regards to the agreements on what was being done with Drachma—about which they could change little now without reconvening the entire Continental Summit—the rules regarding airplanes, and some of the border tariffs. With permission to negotiate along certain lines from the Assembly and Shock, Elena had managed to work them around to almost exactly the same deal, explaining the necessities of each point and why they were the way the original ambassadors had agreed to them. She had been well prepared by Charisa before coming.

They also seemed to have at least one ally on the inside, if what Maes had noticed about Gian Ioannou was true. The junior ambassador seemed to be phrasing his own arguments in ways to help bring his compatriot to the table, without obviously agreeing with everything Elena said. He simply had additional, incredibly astute information that made it clear that the original deal was better.

Maes had tried pulling him aside for a casual chat at the dinner the evening before, and while it had been a pleasant conversation, the man had given no hints as to why he was in agreement with the original treaties more than his own party in his own country. When he had tried pressing a little on where he had gotten some of his very insider-sounding information, Ioannou had grinned, shrugged and said he had friends in high places. An enigmatic answer that could have meant anyone, but there was amusement in his eyes, and Maes wondered if it was a mutual acquaintance, or someone Ioannou was at least assuming that Maes would know, given the circles in which he traveled.

Knowing that Sara and Franz were still visiting the Argyros family, Maes would have bet his sens on it being Thrakos, or perhaps even his father. In any case, it was definitely making Elena's job just a little bit easier. Which was good, given the fight it had been since they arrived.

Maes' seat was directly behind his wife's right shoulder, like most of the aides in the room, giving him a good view of everything even if he wasn't permitted to speak during negotiations. That was fine by him. Elena was far more articulate.

They were right in the middle of a fascinating debate of the finer points of border air space when suddenly everyone in the room went dead quiet. Maes looked up to realize that the doors at the far end of the room were open, and everyone was scrambling into standing positions as Tyron Callius himself strode into the room for the first time since he and Elena had arrived in Creta.

Maes had to admit, Callius cut an impressive figure for a government leader. He was about the same age as Roy; in good shape, with dark hair and tanned skin. There were only the barest flecks of silver in that hair either. He had sharp eyes, that one. As he stood behind Elena, he wondered if this should be taken as a good sign, or if the man was about to torpedo everything they had been working for.

Callius looked around the room before striding forward to the end of the table at which there was an empty chair. Not that he sat. Instead, he commanded the attention of the room by the very nature of his position. :As we near final deliberations on any new agreements, I thought I would like to come hear them for myself,: he spoke simply, his voice carrying easily across the quiet room, which had been designed for great acoustics. Then he turned and looked straight at Elena. :I wish to hear from the Ambassador from Amestris, though the woman I see before me is as Amestrian as I am Kartosian.:

Which was to say, not at all. Maes felt his hackles rising, but kept his feelings tightly inside, and his facial expressions neutral.

Elena, in her infinite patience, smiled at Callius. :Mister President, it would be my honor to engage you in discourse on any topic of your preference. You would be correct, were a person's nation only determined by the location of their birth, however you will find very few, if you go back more than a handful of generations, who are purely and wholly from only one nation or another, particularly today. It is also true, is it not, that all of our nations today were once many, smaller ones. Creta itself holds the history of nearly a dozen proud ancient peoples, even as its existence under that name and flag precedes us by nearly a thousand years. I am, in fact, here speaking to you on behalf of both of the countries of which I am considered a long-standing citizen. Aerugo shares as much of your border as Amestris, and they—too—listen when I speak, for I give them only the truth, provided in their best interest.:

Keeping his expressions from showing was going to take all of his acting skills today. Maes watch Callius' eyebrows climb slowly as his eyes widened. Then the man nodded slightly, as if confirming something to himself. Probably that Elena was everything he had heard her to be. She had not stepped a word or tone out of turn with him, but she had still taken him to task. Callius did not apologize. :Then they are fortunate that you speak the truth. I wish you to speak the truth to me as well. You have negotiated fiercely over the points outlined in these documents. Treaties and trade agreements that do not provide much apparent benefit for Creta. My concerns must be, and always shall be, firstly for my people, their country, and its security in all things.:

:Which is precisely why this treaty is so important, Sir,: Elena replied with aplomb. :The long-term benefits will always outweigh the short term limitations. Joining in on this endeavor, this first Continental coalition with trade and travel agreements on such an international scale, will open Creta up to far more opportunity than it will close, as you perceive it.: Which of course, implied that it was not in fact, closing any doors, just changing policies he saw as the more beneficial. :Consider the benefits of trade that permits you direct access to Xingese markets, without having to pay import and export tariffs through at least one other country to get them across land? Goods coming by faster trains, and eventually by air, protecting your merchant vessels from the risky waters south and east of Aerugo, as treacherous to cross as the desert during the calmer seasons. Trade in both directions, and alliances with some of the largest nations that include not merely pacts of non-aggression but peace that does not come with an expiration date. If any one nation under the pact violates a border with military force, they will be brought to task. The goal is to put an end to needless warring, and balance our resources so that no nation finds itself failing due to a lack of support from its neighbors. There is room in the agreements for adjustments as circumstances change, within reasonable limits. The risk is minimal to sign on, but much greater not to. Not because Creta would make enemies, because you would not, but because you would deprive your country of the benefits of taking part.:

Whether Callius had heard this before or not, Maes was unsure. It would only have made sense that the arguments were presented to him along with the documents, but perhaps he needed to hear it, from the right person, said in the right way. If anything, he seemed to be listening intently now. :Do you believe that Creta is not strong enough to stand alone?: he asked, without accusation.

Elena did not flinch. :I believe that Drachma thought that, in its size and its might, it did not need the others, and should stand alone. It has tried many times. You have seen its failures. Amestris once tried to stand alone, under the direction of a dictatorial regime that threatened everyone, and aided no one. Nearly a century since then, and the world is a drastically changed place. There are still people alive in all our countries who remember that once, we were all at each other's throats, and internally as well. We have all faced strife from within as well as from without. The leaders who find a way to bring about lasting peace will not be seen as idealistic fools; they will be seen as visionaries. Idealists do not spend as much time as this on the particular details, and dreams do not save people. Hard work and cooperation are how cultures thrive and grow. Can we want anything else for our people? For any people?: She left the question hanging in the quiet.

For several seconds Callius stood there, then nodded again. :Very well. Thank you for your time, Ambassador. You may continue.: With that, he turned and left.

It was several seconds after the door closed before murmurs of voices picked up in the room again. It appeared that none of the Cretans had expected his appearance this afternoon either. A short recess was called, and several people stood to find restrooms, drinks, or confer in corners.

:Do you know what that was about?: Maes found Ioannou directly. If anyone might tell him, that was the one man who would.

The Cretan looked at him for a moment, as if considering his words carefully. :There has been pressure on the President to make a decision before waiting on the outcome of the election. He would prefer to sit on it until he knows for certain whether he will continue in the position. The decision is fraught with political peril in both directions, and signing, or not signing, before then will definitely impact how people vote in September.:

:Given what we just saw, do you think it's a sign that he intends to sign, or not to sign? Or continue stalling?:

:I do not know,: Ioannou admitted. :I wish I did. It is unprecedented even for a President of Creta to interrupt mid-session and hijack it that way. Or to call out another country's Ambassador in session. Your wife handled that… exceptionally well.:

:She did,: Maes agreed with a grin, now that Callius was gone. :She has been doing this long enough, nothing phases her. Not that she was ever easily shaken,: he added. :During the Aerugean civil war, she escaped the assassination of her family on their estate on foot, and made her way hundreds of miles alone until she reached the Amestrian line. Her father had been the Aerugean ambassador to Amestris for several years at one point, and the family lived in Central during that time. She has seen a country fall apart from the inside. Her wish for the best for all of us, including the people of Creta, is genuine.: He would never forget being on guard that night, and having the most beautiful woman he had ever known, someone he had never expected to see again, appear out of the night in a vision of moon-kissed perfection.

Their lives between then and now had not always been smooth, but nothing they had faced had ever stopped Elena or, somehow, her unshakable faith in him despite his many failings, and near-disasters in the early years of their marriage. His beautiful, tenacious Elena.

Ioannou looked past Maes at Elena with a deepening respect. : So there was nothing he would do that would have thrown her.:

:Not unless he wanted to point a gun at her head,: Maes agreed. Which, of course, the Cretan President would not have done. He wasn't known to be a violent person. Beyond that, Maes didn't think he knew how to use a firearm. :Even then, I'm not sure she would have backed down on anything she said.: It would reflect badly on the President, Maes thought, at least in the eyes of the people in this room, if his responses to this were unfavorable. She had pushed the defense of Creta as a primary reason for the treaty. The previous ambassadors had all been in agreement on this. The ones in this room were all in agreement, for the most part. If he remained the only hold out, even among his own party, than he might risk his chances at winning a proper election.

Maes did not admit aloud that he hoped the man signed it, and then lost anyway.

Elena had not been expecting the sudden appearance of Tyron Callius in the middle of their deliberations, but she felt like she had kept control of the conversation despite his interruption of her in the middle of making a critical point. Meeting his eyes had not been difficult. Speaking her mind had not been difficult either, even if the words were more patient and appropriate than a few choice ones in her head. Callius was not an assassin, or a man-eating jaguar stalking her family in the Aerugean jungle. He was simply a younger, less experienced leader trying to do what he thought best for his country.

When he left, she had put her mind right back to work. There was no time to be shaken, or worry about what it meant. Her words had made an impact or they had not. After the break, the discussions had finished, hopefully final agreements had been made, and the papers had been taken to Callius' office for the tenth time in the past weeks. Hopefully, this time, they would be agreed upon. If so, they would be signed with witnesses, and she would return to Amestris where they would be signed jointly by the Senior Chair of the Assembly, and Tore Closson.

When they were released from the room, and awaiting Callius's response—which usually took an hour or so. At least he was prioritizing the talks enough not to make them wait when he wanted more changes or disapproved of some phrasing or other—they availed themselves of the refreshments available for all concerned in the large hall nearby. Elena was grateful that food was provided, because there had been no extended breaks for actual meals. She took a small plate and selected a flaky spinach puff, a couple of dolmas, and a few deep purple and green olives, and went to find Maes.

Her husband was, as always, playing his role of assisting harmless trophy husband perfectly. He stood in a group with several ambassadors and aides from both countries, chatting and grinning as he told one of his many quick, funny stories that made everyone laugh. Or at least, that was what she thought it was until she got closer and realized he had chosen this moment to regale them with at least a portion of their adventure in the Aerugean jungle. He was telling the story of how they had outsmarted and killed the three jaguars that had tried to eat them. He was doing an excellent job of building up the tension to the moment the maneater had attacked, and he had their rapt attention.

Elena walked up behind him, smiling as she reached out and put a hand on his shoulder. :That's when it lunged!: she put her hand down, making Maes jump, which made everyone else jump.

:Yes, just like that,: Maes chuckled, and around them everyone laughed, though nervously as he continued. :Right past the flames… and it charged me, eyes glowing embers in its dark face.:

:What happened?: Ioannou asked.

:I raised my gun, took aim… and watched it die sliding up to my feet as my mother shot it in the head from above.: Maes ended it with a grin. :She was one of the best snipers the Amestrian Military ever had, and she never got out of practice.:

With the release of tension, that got more sincere chuckles.

"An interesting choice of story," Elena commented more quietly as she sidled up to him.

Maes shrugged, grinning. "It was requested, actually. Your fierceness was noted today."

"Fortunately for me, I am not the cat, but the sniper," Elena replied in his ear before stepped back just a little so she could eat. She noticed Maes had not embellished the story. Nor had he made her a focal point or tried to give credit anywhere other than where it was due. She supposed that, given the story was twenty-five years old, likely no one here had actually heard about it. There had been thousands of stories that came out of the earthquake that had devastated the coastal regions of her birth country. Though they had come out by way of Creta, so they had made the news. Of course, she had been recovering from illness and having been chased by man-eating cats, and had just discovered she was pregnant with Mireia, so most of her thoughts had been elsewhere.

Maes leaned in and spoke quietly into her ear. "If that is an offer to hunt me later, when we celebrate your success, I accept."

"Let's not get too confident yet," Elena cautioned, though she appreciated the sentiment. "He may approve, or he may decide he didn't like what I said to him and find some way to make us start nearly all over."

Maes' eyes shifted as he looked over her shoulder, focusing elsewhere for a moment. "And I think…we are about to find out."

So quickly? Elena turned and found that Maes was correct. The President's Aide who had brought the papers back and forth throughout the endless days of sessions had already returned. He looked slightly stunned as he held up the document, and crossed the room heading straight for her.

When he was close enough, he stopped and held out the agreement. It was not the formal signed treaty, of course, but when Elena took it, and read it, it was an acknowledgement that he intended to sign them, and would make it known with a public signing that evening. Elena had to refrain from showing too much enthusiasm. She smiled though. "Tell President Callius that I accept, and will be honored to be there this evening."

Sara had to admit that the highlight of their vacation, odd as it might be, was sitting in the private family living room of the Argyros estate with all of the members of the Argyros family currently in town, watching on television as the Cretan President, standing with Ambassador Elena Mustang, signed the treaties brought from Amestris, both with Amestris directly, and the Continental Accord. Knowing that they had been able to have a hand in helping push things in that direction was imminently satisfying.

Beside her, Franz's expression was one of relief. Despite the fact it had been several years since his tenure, they had both done a lot of work securing the beginnings of the alliances that had led to this moment. At the time, Creta had been one of their staunchest allies. Losing them here would have been a huge blow.

Callius did not speak as if he had always been planning this, which would have been trite and directly counter to much of his rhetoric of late, especially since the case in tracking down Arsenic in any of their countries was still ongoing. The fact that the group refused to step out and make any kind of public statement of responsibility was nothing like anti-government or anti-alchemist groups of the past. But then, Arsenic had tried to take over the Amestrian government first, so destruction was not their primary goal. They wanted something left to control.

Instead Callius was spinning this as a decision made in agreement with the wishes of the members of government, so he could be seen as being willing to compromise with the various views in his country. A smart move with the election coming, depending on how many people it convinced.

:I hope we didn't lose you the election,: she commented to Thrakos, who was sitting on the two-person sofa with Minxia, next to the one she shared with Franz. His parents had their own chairs, and his sisters and their families had also come for dinner, since Sara and Franz would be leaving in the next couple of days to head back to Central. They all sat around watching the news, except for the children, who were playing in another room.

Thrakos shrugged. :It's nothing I can't handle. The treaty and the trade deal are too important to let fall through. Besides which,: he added with a cocky, knowing smile, :I may have the last word in this. They're interviewing some of the ambassadors and their staff next, and my friend is one of them. I got a call from him this afternoon.:

:Oh really?" Arius Argyros looked over at his son. :I knew you were cut out for this.:

:Yes, Father. So, you keep saying.: Thrakos did not roll his eyes, but the tone of his voice implied it.

Minxia chuckled.

Sara thought she was wise not to comment. It had become clear over the past weeks that Arius had always known his son had a natural aptitude for the things that made a good politician, even if he had been wholeheartedly uninterested in ever being involved with government as a child and a teenager. He had been quite happy following Minxia around the continent on her archeological explorations, and not just because Minx was there. Still, it was the first time he had taken a step in a direction in his adult career that did not directly stem from assisting Minxia with hers, and that in itself was notable. Not that he hadn't been incredibly busy and successful in his chosen work. The President of Creta was not a military officer, and as such he needed some of the same skills, but many different ones than did a President of the Amestrian Military, who oversaw the military but did not have authority over the Assembly, or the general laws governing the country.

Sara found it very easy to like Thrakos as a person, getting to know him more as the adult he had become. He had definitely had a streak of his uncle in him, growing up, and while he had been proud of his family, he had never let it to go this head. It was also easy to respect him for that, as much as the fact that even now he wasn't really interested in personal glory.

:Oh there he is.: Thrakos' comment brought her back to the television, which had moved on to interviewing various people about the decision and recent negotiations. The name on the screen said Gian Ioannou, and he was answering much the same questions as the others, but not entirely.

:Several people have commented to us over the past few days that you were the source of several vital perspectives and pieces of information that led us to where we are today,: the reporter was asking him. :What do you have to say to that?:

Ioannou grinned. :I'd like to take credit but the truth is, while I did pass on quite a bit, only some of those insights are things for which I can take credit. Often, when there is a question of international policy, you go to people with knowledge to get you what you need. Where do your priorities match the country you're working with to make a deal? What are the conflicts of interest? How have they been overcome in the past, or how might they feel about it? In this case, I have the good fortune to have worked extensively with a gentleman who, while he is Cretan, has a better finger on the pulse of international negotiation than most, as well as a lot of international travel and personal experience.:

:Can you tell us the name of your colleague?: The reporter asked, her eyes a little eager.

Ioannou chuckled. :Thrakos Argyros.:

General sounds of approval filled the room around Sara.

:You've been speaking with a presidential candidate about negotiations over deals with Amestris and the Continental Accord?:

:His insights in this area have always turned out to be spot on.: Ioannou shrugged. :He was also involved in the Summit negotiations in Amestris during the Drachman Civil War, at the beginning of the new alliances that have led to this new Accord. So, yes, he has a better grasp on Amestrian thought and priority, as well as other countries, than many of our less experienced diplomats. I considered his insights, agreed with them in my own professional experience, and used them.:

The discussion moved on from Thrakos at that point, and quiet conversation broke out around the room. Gia and Lori, Thrakos' sisters, and their husbands, all engaged Thrakos in conversation, while Arius stood, stretched, and came over to join Sara and Franz.

:Some of that insight is due to you both, for which you have our thanks.:

Sara smiled as she also stood. :Your son was the one with the forethought to ask those questions. We only answered them.:

:With more depth and candor than we might have gotten from anyone else.:

That much was probably true. :I'm just glad we could help Thrakos, and keep numbering Creta among our allies, even though I expect there will be contention between our politicians in the future if we don't get the outcome we're all hoping for.:

:Is it acceptable for Amestrian Generals to have favorites in foreign elections?: Arius teased.

It was Franz who responded. :Retired Generals, and yes, obviously. Even if we aren't supposed to say, voice them on international broadcasts. Not that my preferences would get anyone very far these days.:

:It is the way of things that no matter how many people put us there, there will always be people who find our decisions while in authority to be problematic.: Arius nodded. :As much as I enjoyed the work, I find it preferable to spend time at peace, with my family. So, now that we've all digested, and seen the good news, how about an evening celebratory swim?:

One of Sara's favorite places to spend time on the estate had been the Argyros' pool, which included a hot tub, waterfall, diving area, and well-lit walkway with ambience lighting that came up out of the landscape greenery, and even lights in the pool, which made swimming at night a fascinating experience. It made her wish they had the space for a pool on their property. :I think that sounds like a delightful idea.:

July 14th, 1996

Clarina was beginning to wonder how much surveillance the State Alchemists in the labs were under by Arsenic, or Arsenic sympathizers, that they had identified her and approached her so quickly after the staged fight with Ted, and her apparent new interest in unapproved alchemical processes. Strobe had even been the one to approach her the first time, catching her at the hour when it was mostly empty, and to express his sympathies over the scene he had witnessed. He had recognized what she was working on, at least on concept. Clarina had done her best to lay the groundwork without seeming too obvious. She had thanked him for his concern. Begged him not to report her work and, when he promised not to, had confided in him the fake story that Ted had been making advances on her for several weeks and this was the culmination of his ill-advised attempts to rekindle their non-existent romance despite his marriage. She had refused, clearly, but he wasn't taking no for an answer. Though, she admitted, he hadn't bothered her since Strobe and his friend had seen them, so she thanked him for that.

After four nights of conversations Strobe had told her there was someone who wanted to meet her who had mutual interests, if she was interested. Clarina had taken her time agreeing. If she seemed too eager it would be suspicious. Still, she had agreed to meet and talk with whoever it was, though she made no promises other than that she would not report anything she saw or heard during the meeting to her superiors.

The meeting, unsurprisingly, would not be in Central. If Clarina was serious, she was going to have to be willing to meet the person in question outside of town. She agreed and, on the weekend, got in a car with Strobe and he drove her out of town. This first time, as soon as they got outside town, she was blindfolded. A step she had agreed to in advance, even though it made her nervous. If they had seen through her… this could just be a trap.

If it's a trap, I'll just have to fight my way out. Clarina had insisted on not going with any kind of wire on her. She had been sure she would be searched, and when they arrived at their location, she proved to be right.

They walked her inside somewhere, and removed the blindfold. When Clarina opened her eyes, she was in some sort of room. It might be in a warehouse, or not. She got the general feeling that there was space around it, but also it had that feeling of being underground. Perhaps it was a basement.
A woman she didn't know stepped forward and searched her then, patting her down for anything suspicious. Clarina had brought nothing, and come in plain clothes as instructed, so she didn't find anything. The woman had dark hair, pulled back in a tail, and thin-rimmed glasses. Her expression was entirely business.

At least they hadn't had Strobe pat her down. A small courtesy.

"This way," the woman said, opening a door, and leading Clarina through without bothering with an introduction. The less information they give me, the less I can betray. It made sense. They didn't trust her yet.

The room beyond was as non-descript as the first, though this one had a table, and a couple of chairs. The continued lack of windows only lent credence to her theory that they were underground. They couldn't be too far from central, but there were eight or nine smaller towns that they could have reached in the time Strobe had been driving.

What made the room not look like an interrogation chamber were drinks sitting on the table.

Clarina was not alone. The person she had suspected to be behind at least some of this, was exactly who was standing in front of her, though Clarina had not seen her old teammate in years.

Vera Kollan, once titled the Ultraviolet Alchemist, didn't look much different from the last time Clarina had seen her, outside of the ways they all did having aged a few years. Though Vera's hair was cut short, in a much more current style, with it almost buzzed on one side, and the rest, including her bangs, hanging to the left. Her dark hair was now also streaked in a color that was nearly ultraviolet itself. Her outfit was the fitted, black working kit that Clarina recognized at once as what passed for the uniform look of members of Arsenic.

Clarina did not attempt to feign real surprise beyond the bit she felt at being right. The less she had to lie, the less likely she would be found out. Still, her eyes widened a little at the look. "Vera? Is this why you stopped answering my letters?"

Vera smiled, and looked slightly contrite. "It was necessary, Clare. I'm really sorry, honestly. I had my reasons. Though, from what I'm hearing, you've got your own for being here. A certain golden-haired asshole giving you trouble?"

So, the rumor had gone back exactly where they wanted it. That was good. Clarina hadn't heard a word of it outside of the labs, and neither had Ted, yet, which implied that Arsenic had not seen fit to spread it around yet, only that Strobe had reported the incident directly to Vera.

Clarina snorted, and managed a legitimately disgusted look. "That might be too polite a word," she replied, trying her best to envision him the way he had been acting during their scene. If Ted had ever really been like that, she would never have forgiven him. "He's just gotten more insufferable over time. Especially when they didn't court martial him after that mess in Drachma."

Vera rolled her eyes. "I never did believe that was a sanctioned mission. Proteus is nothing but a loose cannon and a semi-talented hack. If he wasn't Fullmetal's grandson and Heimler's nephew he never would have made it that far. Though I admit, I didn't have him pegged as this level of letch. Guess he hasn't gotten more charming."

"Not at all." Clarina shook her head. "And I didn't think he was either, until he started showing up around my lab a few weeks ago, claiming to be bringing deliveries from the State Alchemist's office, but he… well he implied all sorts of things, and then…well I guess someone told you about the other night."

"When he so charmingly tried to force you in your own lab?" Vera nodded. "I heard. I also heard you might be planning to do something about it."

Now there was a leading question. Clarina nodded. "I've been…thinking about it. Especially if he tries anything again."

"Is he still bothering you?" Vera didn't necessarily sound sympathetic, but there was a note of at least passing concern in her voice. She didn't seem at all surprised.

"Not since he ran into Strobe the other night," Clarina acknowledged. "At least, he hasn't tried coming into the lab again. He might be waiting for things to cool off though. He's not the kind of guy to take a hint." That much, at least, rang true. After all, he had totally missed her interest in him when they first started working together.

"No. He definitely needs something a little more in the face," Vera agreed. "The fact that he's still walking around with a State Alchemist certification instead of in jail is just a sign of how much of a mess the whole system has become."

Another very leading statement. Vera said it casually but Clarina could tell she was waiting to judge Clarina's reaction to the statement. Clarina, unlike her former friend, had gone back to the State and had been working there, by all accounts, with a perfect record since. But then, so had some of their most recent biggest traitors. Vera was feeling her out to see if she was ready to consider defecting.

Time to play this very carefully. "It is a mess," Clarina agreed as if the statement was perfectly logical. "On one level or another it always has been, even if what we have now is better than what Bradley used State Alchemists for. That doesn't make it perfect. Not even close."

"So why do you stay?" Vera asked more pointedly.

Clarina shrugged. "They paid for my auto-mail surgery and rehabilitation. They fund my research, and I haven't been required to join a combat unit since I was injured. Research life suits me, and I figured they owe me the rest of a life's pay after what happened." Logical, common sense. Not an emotional reason. No mentions of loyalty.

Vera's eyes went briefly to Clarina's arm. It was clear that it bothered her at this point more than it bothered Clarina. She'd had years to get used to it, and in truth the Elrics had done an amazing job maintaining it and giving her a hand that was just as dexterous and useful in the lab as her real one. The aesthetic was far more sophisticated than early auto-mail. It was almost a work of art as much as a functional arm. It didn't bother her when people saw it, not that they did much in the lab, since most of the time they were in long-sleeves and gloves when working with chemicals. Right now, in plain clothes, it was definitely visible. "Can't blame you for that," she acknowledged. "Though that makes me wonder what you're up to with your current project."

Clarina knew exactly what Vera was talking about. The "stolen" supplies, the secret project… all pointed to poisons. "Call it insurance," she replied vaguely, with a slight smile.

Vera nodded. "I'm not going to insult you by pretending you're stupid. I take it you've already figured out why I want to talk to you, seeing as you came willingly."

"That you were the one who designed that explosive fuel additive? I had a hunch," Clarina admitted. "They trusted me with the analysis. It was an incredibly elegant bit of work, honestly. I was… hoping it was you. When you stopped returning my calls and letters I was worried something had happened to you." All true, every word. Except for hope. She was glad to know that Vera was alive. Now was not the time to ask too many prying questions, however. Keep it simple.

"That's a lot of trust." Vera looked at her consideringly. "You're putting a lot on the line by even being here."

"They think I'm on a weekend visit to see family. No one expects me to be back in the city before I'm supposed to show up for work tomorrow morning." Clarina shrugged. "Like I said, they have no reason not to trust me."

"Can I trust you, Clare?" Vera asked then, with an intense expression behind her eyes.

"Of course, you can. We're friends, aren't we?"

"There are a lot of people I used to think were friends, that haven't proven to be. I had to ask." Vera seemed to relax a little. "The real question is, are you willing to help me? With my work."

"I'd need to know a little more about your work," Clarina pointed out. There was no way Vera would have believed a blind I'll do whatever you want. "Or at least, what you want me to do specifically."

"Right now… supply requisition is tricky. No one will question that your reports are accurate if you say, slide a few things our way that disappear from the inventory manifests. That and…information. You said they trust you. They brought you the explosive to analyze. That says a lot not just about trust, but about how good you are at this. So, anything you might hear that's useful to me. Especially if they're closing in on my people. I don't want anyone to die needlessly."

An irony that, given what Arsenic had done so far. Clarina had to remember that. Vera had designed an explosive that had been aimed at killing people. Arsenic had tried to murder—and had already successfully killed—dozens. Vera said her people. "What are you actually going to do?" Not that she really expected a detailed answer. "I'm all for tearing down the old system, and replacing it with something better. But I also don't want to see people die without good reason."

"Oh, don't worry." Vera smiled now, but there was something unsettling in it. "I don't want to kill everyone. Neither do my associates actually. If they did, they wouldn't have tried to take over from the inside. But, they were foolish, and they failed. Which leaves it to me. I just want to make sure the military leadership learns their lesson."

Clarina didn't like the sounds of that. Still, she nodded. "Seems reasonable enough to me. I'm in."