The young man sat on the rock at the edge of the sea and studied his toes. They were pale, narrow and somewhat delicate-looking to his eyes. Not the toes of a warrior, he mused. He wiggled them into the sand and enjoyed the simple sensation. Had things turned out differently, he might have become a merchant trader. He chuckled to himself at the thought of what his wife might have had to say to that idea! He shaded his eyes, looked out over the water and sighed. He had always loved the sea. He thought sometimes that the Farplane must be like that... calm and endless. He sighed again. Such a vast difference from his daily life. There was always someone clamoring for his attention...
"My lord?" a gruff voice said, behind him. Yevon closed his eyes, the only outward sign of his irritation. "Yes, Captain?" he said, evenly. "The ship awaits your pleasure, Lord." The captain made a hasty bow. Obviously not, Yevon thought, sourly. Ah, well. Duty calls. Yevon rose gracefully and brushed the loose sand from his lightweight traveling robes.
The delicate and decidedly unofficial embroidery along the cuffs and hem were his lady wife's work. She felt the embroidery was one way she could be with him on this journey. Her pregnancy had been difficult and the healers had forbade her anything that might cause her to strain herself. Yevon had, on a number of occasions, found himself surreptitiously rubbing the stitches when his temper began to rise. Mira would be pleased to know she'd been able to help, if even a little.
He shook the remaining water from his feet and reached for the kidskin boots that were also part of his 'uniform', although terribly impractical for actual use, as his abused feet could testify. Once the mantle of dignity was firmly back in place, he joined his Captain of the Guards and allowed himself to be escorted back to the ship.
He had heard that this diplomatic mission had been arranged by his predecessor long before the Challenge for Ascension had ended his reign. Yevon suspected that it had been expected to be more of an extended holiday than any serious attempt at diplomacy. He shuddered at the memory of the day they had arrived at the Bikanel Islands.
He had spent most of the trip pouring over what little information they had on the tribe that called Bikanel 'Home'. The only notes he'd been able to find referred to the perfect weather, untouched beaches, and local gastronomic delicacies. The only concession to the 'mission' had been a brief mention of the possible roots of the local language. His secretaries and minor advisors had assured him that he needn't worry, that the Minister of Relations had always handled most of the official communications with 'these people'. Being relatively new to the position himself, Yevon decided this once, he'd best follow the advice of those who had done this many times before.
As he and his retinue had disembarked at the seaport, the Minister of Relations had stepped forward and said very slowly and clearly "THE RULER...OF ZANARKAND...GREETS THE ...uh...AL BEED!" Yevon had been horrified. He saw the man that his minister had addressed clench his jaw in clear irritation, and had hurriedly stepped forward. He bowed low and smiled at the irritated man. "Forgive my minister, this is his first mission." He heard his Minister of Relations begin an angry protest and stepped backwards onto his minister's foot. "I am Lord Yevon, High Summoner, and Ruler of Zanarkand." He bowed again and waited, hoping for the best.
There was silence for a moment as the Al Bhed sized him up, and then, finally, a man stepped out from the crowd. "I am the leader of my people, " he said carefully, in Yevon's own language. "I am known as Dukot." He inclined his head at Yevon, raising a brow in challenge. Yevon allowed himself a slight twitch of the lips at the stunned silence of his retinue, and began the diplomatic mission.
Yevon smiled to himself at the memory of the outrage of his ministers and aides at his actions during the past seven days. Not only had he insisted on speaking to Dukot face-to-face like some low-level administrator, he had treated Dukot as an equal! Unheard of! Yevon was surely bringing shame to all of Zanarkand by lowering himself to this level!
Yevon ignored the impassioned pleas of his advisors and set out to learn about the Al Bhed. He sampled the delicacies and pleasures of the Bikanel Islands. Seafood was unsurprisingly one of the main staples of their diet. They prepared it in an amazing variety of ways, however. Yevon thought he may have sampled them all, during his stay. He toured the primary settlement on the main island and asked numerous questions of Dukot, comparing the more casual style of government to his own. Dukot was amused by the multi-layered tier-system of Zanarkand. Eyes twinkling, Dukot suggested streamlining the system by doing away with the ministers. Yevon said wryly that he was considering it.
Despite the assurances of his Minister of Relations that the Al Bhed were a simple people, uneducated and uncivilized, Yevon found Dukot and his people to be dignified and technologically brilliant. He learned of this 'knack' after he had offered to have a group of Dukot's people tour the ship. When the delegation returned, he found that not only had they grasped the concept of the hover drive, they had many well-thought out suggestions for improving the efficiency! It was at this point he had invited a group of Al Bhed engineers to come back with them for a cultural and technological exchange. At this news, the Minister of Relations retired to his rooms in distress for the remainder of the visit.
The muffled shouts of the Bikanel fishermen hauling in their catches brought Yevon out of his musings. He looked up to see a small crowd of Al Bhed clustered along the walkway leading to the ship. His Captain of the Guard tensed, automatically scanning for threats. Yevon touched his guard's arm gently. "It's okay, Captain. I believe they are just seeing us off."
Up on the deck of the ship, he could see his people waiting impatiently to be off. They were eager to return to 'civilization', after such a long stay in such primitive facilities. It was amazing how very much people relied on modern technology, Yevon thought dryly. Give them a paradise, full of the natural wonders of Spira, and they whine about missing their favorite vidshow.
With a significant lack of fanfare, Dukot met them at the entry port and clasped his hands warmly in the Al Bhed fashion. "May we always learn from each other." Yevon bowed and replied, "And may we never forget what we have learned." Dukot smiled. "Farewell, Yevon of Zanarkand." he said, solemnly. Nodding once, he turned and walked into the crowd.
Zanarkand.
"The City That Never Sleeps" some wit on a vidshow called it after the Council agreed to extend working hours to both second and third cycles. The name stuck, becoming a badge of pride over the years. With citizens from any given cycle up and active at all hours of the day and night, it became commonplace that there was always something entertaining going on somewhere in the city, at any given time. After dark, the city slowly lit up in a dazzling array of glittering lights, and vid screens displaying the latest news or gizmo, painting the sea around Zanarkand in a variety of color. People visiting from outlying areas rarely had any difficulty finding the city that never sleeps...
It seemed to most that the city had been blessed. It ran a booming tourist trade and had always been known to accept and incorporate new ideas and new 'ways'. Personal styles ranged from the austere to the outlandish, and 'making an entrance' had become an unofficial sport. The citizenry were fiercely proud of their city and were always amused at the culture shock that almost anyone new to the city went through.
Seated at the foot of the Gagazet mountain range, and otherwise cradled on all sides by the sea, Zanarkand was actually fairly isolated from the usual trade routes. Despite this disadvantage, it still drew people from all over Spira, because of it's technological wonders, and remarkable cultural hodgepodge.
The people of Zanarkand had always been innately curious, and their technology enabled them to explore the world in ways that no one had ever thought of before. The most menial jobs were handled by machinery, so that the average citizen was free to live a more personally satisfying life. They were encouraged to educate themselves, either through one of the guilds, or through any of the learning centers scattered throughout the area. With Zanarkand's technological advancements, it's people had access to research and studies done by experts, and so increased the average knowledge pool. People of all ages were encouraged to learn a new trade or skill, should they show an aptitude. It was rare, indeed, to find someone with an occupation that they were unhappy with. With the opportunity for unlimited improvement, people most naturally found positions that they had a talent for, and that satisfied them.
The government was a balance of monarchy and democracy, with the ruler being informed and guided by a council composed of leaders of the primary guilds, representing a wide swath of citizenry. Rule of the city was neither inherited nor voted in. Any Summoner could challenge for rulership, as long as they could prove they were strong enough to protect their city, should it come to it. Such challenges were allowed once a year, although the challenge was hardly ever given.
In general, life in Zanarkand was a testament to the idea of free thinking and mutual acceptance. The supposed pinnacle of modern times...
"Lord Legolas! A moment of your time, sir!" huffed a slightly overweight man, waving an arm as he jogged after the Chief Advisor.
Legolas frowned. Now what? He slowed his pace to allow the other to catch up to him.
"Has Lord Yevon received the update on the council meeting tomorrow?" the older man wheezed. Legolas smothered a grin. "Yes, Dren, he has. You can tell Lord Nicos not to worry. I'll get him there."
Legolas clapped Dren on the shoulder and resumed his march, leaving Dren behind to catch his breath.
As he entered the personal quarters of the Ruler, he was stopped twice by the warriors who protected Yevon's expectant wife. It was standard procedure, and yet it never failed to amuse him that they would challenge the man they knew spent most of his day keeping Yevon informed and where he needed to be at any given time.
Lady Mira was seated in front of the 'screen transcribing one of the many findings of the Scholar's guild. It was in her nature to keep things orderly, and she hated to see the hard work of anyone not be safely recorded into the data files. As a trained Scholar, it had been her job before Yevon had been chosen, and despite her new status, she couldn't stay away. It was one of the many things that Yevon found charming.
Legolas walked over to where she was toiling, and then stopped when she raised one slender finger. Lower lip caught between her teeth, she brushed one silvery lock out of her eyes, and kept typing. He heard her muttering to herself as she typed, and he could tell she was nearing completion. He strolled over to a small couch and sat down, swinging his long legs onto the nearby settee.
"Aaand...done!" she exclaimed, triumphantly. She swung around and grinned at him. "Sorry about that! I've been on that one for too long to lose track of it now!" She snagged an apple out of a decorative bowl of fruit and took a bite. "What's up?" she said, around her mouthful.
"Just wanted to let you know that Yevon's ship is docking and he should be here soon." Legolas said, nonchalantly. Mira let out a very undignified squeal, her eyes lighting up. "I've been waiting all day for that news!" She heaved herself up out of her chair and headed for her rooms. "I have to get something else on! This makes me look fat!" she called over her shoulder. Legolas shook his head and grinned. Trust a woman in her eighth month of pregnancy to worry about looking fat!