In the end, It was a matter of diplomacy that brought Ling back to Amestris. The last steel track had been laid to complete the Amestrian-Xingese railroad, officializing the physical and political connection between the nations. This marked a new chapter of Amestrian international policy, previously rife with conflict and isolationism while strengthening the reign of the newly instated Yao emperor after decades of civil unrest and clan-infighting.
To celebrate the completion of the historic project, both leaders were to be its first passengers. This led a small group of Xingese officials out of the Imperial palace onto alien soil, past what once was a harrowing trek across unforgiving desert and Xerxsian ruins.
Ling thought this journey was much more comfortable the second time around, though Xerxes had been much more interesting up close. Memories of his teenage desert journey with Lanfan and Fu replayed in the passing sand dunes. The landscape would soon evolve with industry brought by the railway, but for now Ling was comforted to see that something had stayed the same, despite how much everything else had changed, including himself.
The first signs of the Amestris came with the replacement of golden sand to the rolling hills of the countryside. Elric territory, he mused.
"Resembool is not so far from here," Lan Fan said aloud, reading his thoughts exactly. "Perhaps we can visit on the way back?"
"Yes," He turned from the window, "It's been a long time since I've bummed food off an Elric."
Lan Fan's face made Ling pause. A quirk of the brow on an otherwise inscrutable expression. She didn't always look at him that way. Only when he looked like Greed. Some of the homunculus's mannerisms had stayed as a souvenir, most notably his wicked grin. But the traditional Yao regalia ruined that image. Too much silk and not enough menacing black trenchcoat.
Ling averted his gaze "-But on second thought, I think Winry would kill me if I tried. Ed's letters seemed to indicate that the Rockbell wrench is quite egalitarian."
The image of Winry's wrench embedded in the Emperor of Xing's forehead snapped Lan Fan out of her stupor. She imagined the possible reaction of the conservative Wu Chang that was part of their travelling party. His stoic expression would give way to shock, then outrage. How May Chang would delight in such a story. It would only endear her more to her future sister-in-law.
Of course it would never happen, on her honor.
"Assaulting a foreign dignitary is a capital crime,' Lan Fan said at last.
Ling gave her a sly look.
"So is human transmutation if I remember. I don't think the Elrics have much regard for rules…but neither do I. They were very alike that way.
"Hmm."
Ling and Lan Fan turned back to the windows, both musing memories of a certain pair of blonde alchemists and the drama that followed them, Central City looming closer by the second.
Roy had dreamed of being Fuhrer ever since his days in the military academy, but as the stack of reports he needed to read, public statements he needed to approve, and events he needed to RSVP to grew taller than a Fort Briggs cadet, he romanticized his East City Command days.
...and those were only the ones that were delivered in the morning.
Behind his well-put political facade, some would be surprised to know that Roy Mustang had always been a procrastinator. He was a man of action, preferring to be in the line of fire (no pun intended). He was not suited to being chained behind a desk. His position as Furher gave him the opportunity to change Amestris, but democracy had its ways of moving at a glacial pace.
New Fuhrer, same man, Havoc would say. But he still was the New Fuhrer, Mustang would remind him, and then joke about how if Havoc were still in the military, he would court-martial him for all the drinks he'd racked up at East City bars on the then Colonel's tab.
An expected knock on his office door saw the entrance of former Hawkeye, now his chief of staff. He smiled despite himself at the sight of her. She was a well-welcomed reprieve from his current errand.
"Sir," she said, in her ever professional tone. "The Xingese envoy will be arriving within the hour. This is your itinerary for the day."
As she handed him yet another stack of papers, Roy paused to see as Riza's eyes roamed his desk with a sniper's gaze. She had perfected her poker face since his days as her Father's pupil. If she was unimpressed it did not show.
"Yes. Thank you."
And he meant that, for more than just handing him his daily schedule. For everything. For being his eyes when he could not see, literally, in the past, and now, as his representative. Though so much had changed over the years, he always had her by his side. They'd walked through a river of blood together, and here they were still.
When Riza finally turned to leave, she suppressed a wry smile. Roy at the center of a mass of paperwork was familiar a sight she was all too accustomed to.
New Fuhrer, same man
The Xingese envoy drew a sizable crowd as it inched closer to the heart of Central. Ling curiously observed the crowded streets through tinted car windows, feeling somewhat anxious. The spike in Lan Fan's usually steady chi indicated the same, and it was understandable. The last time they had been there they had almost died.
They had left for home immediately after the Promised Day, long before reconstruction had taken place. The excited civilian crowd was more than a welcome sight. However, despite the pristine sidewalks and unblemished building facades, all Ling could see in his mind's eye was smashed concrete, bullet holes, and the mangled corpse of Fu haloed in a puddle of crimson blood.
As they were sharing the car, Lan Fan had put on her mask, and therefore her countenance betrayed nothing to the other officials across their seat. But Ling had known her his whole life. He had much training in perceiving her moods by body language alone. He could recognize her upset a mile away. And so, to the ignorance of the other occupants, he slipped his hand into hers, concealed by the fabric of imperial robes. As she turned her midnight eyes grateful through the mask, he was suddenly too thankful that he did not have to make this journey alone.
Fifteen minutes and five security checks later, they were greeted by the stern and familiar faces of Fuhrer Roy Mustang, and his constant aide, Riza Hawkeye. They looked almost the same to the last he had seen them, albeit for the slight stubble the Fuhrer now sported, he guessed to make him look more dignified.
Riza wore the same navy uniform as well, concealing countless weapons no doubt. Ling had heard through his officials she was now his Chief of Staff, a position that did not necessitate a uniform, but just like Lan Fan, a change in position did not change the woman herself. The two were the same like that, their insistence in their ways. Roy and Ling were also very similar in that way as well, keeping their closest allies at their sides.
Roy was the first to extend his hand in the event of the evening, the official handshake.
To the press, this was their first official meeting. Ling wondered if Roy saw the juxtaposition in them shaking hands in the same place they all battled Father, but he also saw why Mustang had chosen the venue. It made an advantageous background for their photo-op, Roy in his military uniform and Ling in his robes. They both knew a certain couple in Resembool would eventually find the picture most amusing in their daily newspaper. The Colonel Bastard and Phony Prince together. Winry would keep it on their pinboard.
"Fuhrer," Ling intoned.
"Emperor," Roy regarded. "Welcome to Amestris. I hope you're enjoying your stay so far."
"I am. The countryside is quite beautiful," Ling said, smiling politically. Roy was suddenly reminded that he and Ed were the same age, and both had been replaced by men seemingly overnight. "It's just as I remember," Ling grinned, "aside from some small details."
Roy chuckled. "Yes, small details indeed." If you could call a nationwide conspiracy plot small. "Come inside," he beckoned, "We have much to discuss