The sun rose high in the azure sky, unobstructed by clouds and casting white streaks of light onto the surface of the sea beneath the city of Zanarkand. Flocks of birds were flying in circles above the clouds, singing their songs with liberty. Warm mist was diffusing in the air, bringing a stifling heat that led to windows left wide open in sundry buildings. Wind was barely blowing to the displeasure of people making their way to the Blitzball stadium with reddened faces and clothes that felt clammy on their skin.
At the stadium, three guards were stationed near the entrance to regulate and distribute small pieces of paper for three long lines of visitors to write on. Banners had been newly erected for the visitors to examine and be aware of the four contenders selected by the Elders – a group of wise and impartial representatives at the highest echelon of the court and legislative body – to become Yaj Yeshe's successor; Yu Yevon was one of them.
Inside the main hall, ten tables, each manned by three administrators appointed by the legislative body, monitored visitors as they inscribed the names of their preferred candidate onto their papers with a provided quill pen. These papers would then be tossed into ceramic urns safely guarded by a potent sealing magic.
This went on for seven days and ended with the doors to the Dome tightly shut from the public as legislative officials scurried to count the ballots. Numbers were drawn and submitted for further appraisal until they had been fully confirmed to be true. A council was then summoned to the conference hall for deliberations on the ballot results.
Those bade to be present at the council were greeted with the Elders already seated at the long table made of polished stone in the centre of the hall. A large glyph made of symbols from the ancient language and carved onto the floor below the table, glowed radiantly in a dark blue and purple accent. Yevon settled onto Zopa's right and greeted others in attendance with the bowing of his head.
Hamu, the oldest of the four Elders, was the first to speak, "As we all know… the people of Zanarkand had spent seven days deciding on what the future of the city would be. We are here to discuss what is to be done next." His speech took a pause as he perused several pieces of paper presented to him by a scribe sitting two seats away. His protruding eyes made a squint now and then, causing restlessness to rise within those watching.
Soon, he raised his head and addressed the rest at the table again, "Only two out of the four contenders we've selected performed outstandingly in the ballots: Lord Dai Denzin… and Lord Yu Yevon."
Yevon's heart constricted at the mentioning of his name. The prospect of becoming the person who would continue building Yeshe's dreams enthused him and yet… he set his sights onto Denzin and noticed his newly designated opponent clenching his sharp jawline.
Denzin had been the minister of defence under Yeshe since five years ago. Yevon found him to be an inflexible man who was rarely willing to admit his faults, and thus making him difficult to reason with. They had clashed several times over statebuilding decisions and yet, not even Yevon could deny his competency in the art of war.
Hamu was exchanging a few words and nods with the other three Elders before relaying, "We, the Elders, have decided to grant an opportunity for all in the council today – except for the scribes, as well as Lord Denzin and Lord Yevon – to choose out of the two who they deem is best to lead our city and we want a full document of reasons."
Distraught murmurs ensued and Hamu decided to give his audience the chance to air their grievances, "Are there any objections?"
A man not younger than twenty-five years of age tentatively raised his hand. Yevon had dealt with this man in all matters pertaining to the developments of the city's artistry and thought that his name was suitable for his non-confrontational nature: Kipu.
"Would it not be fairer if we let the people decide?" Kipu suggested, bringing smiles of mockery to the many faces in attendance.
"And risk further delaying the appointment of our new leader?" a woman's demanding voice had retorted, drawing all attention to the owner – Ziba, the youngest of the four Elders. Her eyes reflected intelligence but also impatience; her lips were perpetually puckered, stretching the skin along her cheekbones. "We don't have all the time in the world, Lord Kipu." When Kipu offered no reply, a slight smile of satisfaction was formed on her lips.
The council was nearing its end and Hamu queried once again, "Are there any more objections?" When no one spoke, he gave his closing words, "Very well then. You have three days to make your decisions. We'll deliberate on your reasons and finalize the ballot results."
Three days went by almost too rapidly since the council was summoned. At the break of dawn, the Elders hurried to the conference hall to read through documents they had received from the council attendees. Ones that were too long or too hard to read were re-examined and converted into more succinct documents by their scribes. Tea with a strong aftertaste brewed from the healing parts of a Marlboro were served to keep them awake.
"Some of these court officials have the worst scribes!" Ziba had complained when a pile of hardly readable documents made it to their way. "They need more training," she asserted, gesturing at her scribe to make a note of the plan.
It was thirty minutes past midnight when the last of the documents were fully perused. While their scribes helped compile and arrange the papers neatly on the table, the Elders spent a few minutes resting their sore eyes, stretching their cracking joints and massaging pinched nerves on their shoulders and legs.
Hamu trailed his eyes to the walls of the conference hall. They were adorned with murals illustrating the cycle of life and death originated by those Worshipped. They began from the story of a celestial man with horns on his head like those of the Juggernauts, forming living shapes out of seawater with his hands; continuing to an epic saga about his meetings with other celestial beings as he sought to nourish the lands in Spira; and finally ending with his ascension to immortality. The murals were commissioned by Yaj Yeshe, who wanted to eternalize Zanarkand's heritage at a time when he was rapidly expanding the city.
It was as if the murals were telling him what to look for in Yeshe's successor.
"Have you all come to a decision on who shall lead us from tomorrow forth?" Hamu prodded, eyes unwaveringly locked onto his associates.
"Yes," answered Sahame, the Elder who was just a year younger than Hamu was. His powdered face was serene; its droopiness poorly concealed. There always seemed to be an overpowering fragrance that he was carrying with him to mask the smell of aging. "It can be no other than Lord Denzin. Many have praised him for his work in building our armed forces," he reasoned.
Across Sahame sat Nima, an Elder who was five years younger than he was. She grunted disapprovingly before refuting, "I will have to disagree, Sahame. There are several complaints lodged against him too, particularly on his foul character." On her temples were bulging veins, marks of a longstanding illness that could never be cured. An almost permanent state of frowning arched her brows as she fought sudden pangs of pain in her head.
"Surely his accomplishments outshined his foul character?" Sahame countered, defensiveness rising in his tone.
"But do they outshine those of Lord Yevon's?" Ziba challenged, her gaze too intense for Sahame to return. "Lord Yevon was not only the most trusted friend and advisor of Lord Yeshe, he was also the one who discovered the sacred ritual of becoming a Fayth which no other Summoners outside Zanarkand is able to perform. And the powers these Fayths bestowed to us are certainly more compelling than the Machinas that Lord Denzin are eager to use."
"Speaking of Machinas…" Hamu swiftly interrupted, direly in need to express his concerns. "There are rumours floating about Lord Denzin's excessive keenness to acquaint himself with those in Bevelle."
The air in the hall was growing sultry, urging a scribe to undo some windows, hoping for a breeze to relieve them from the heat. A number of scribes had excused themselves as if unwilling to be around while the conversation was ongoing between the Elders.
"Your accusation is rather… severe, Hamu," Sahame mumbled, sounding nearly offended. "And over unfounded rumours too."
"They are not unfounded," Hamu pressed. When his eyes met those of Sahame's, no words were spoken. Some things are better left unsaid, he thought.
Ziba clasped her hands together and cleared her throat, "I believe… we have reached a consensus on who would be Zanarkand's new leader."
A hanging clock from the ceiling rang its bell, marking the first hour of a new day.
Yu Yevon's inauguration as Zanarkand's new sovereign began in the ninth hour of the day. Banners with his images were installed along walkways; the city came alive with a cacophony of music continuously performed by artists, and stands were erected, distributing food gratis by generous merchants and good Samaritans. A procession followed him and Uma as they ambled through the city, speaking to people who offered congratulatory remarks and gifts, besides requesting for their signatures to be penned on items of value. Glowing spheres fitted into almost all building exteriors were operated at their full capacities to capture the eventful occasion as video recordings.
The Blitzball stadium served as their final destination where the rest of the legislative body was waiting. Their arrival was greeted with a smiling Hamu, who handed Yevon a ball that once belonged to Yeshe. "Congratulations, Lord Yevon. May Zanarkand prosper under your leadership."
The ball felt light in his hands. It brought memories of his conversation with Yeshe about designating the children's game of Blitzball as an official sport in Zanarkand. Blitzball was meant to tie all of Zanarkand together.
"Thank you, Lord Hamu," he said, bending himself down to the delightful surprise of the surrounding spectators.
Hamu gently patted Yevon on his upper arm, "Now now Lord Yevon… I think it's time for us to officiate the opening of the new Blitzball season." He led the way to a lectern located close to seats reserved for dignitaries and watched as Yevon placed the ball onto the tabletop.
The crowd burst with cheers, clamouring the stadium as the digital boards animated with names of competing Blitzball teams. A spherical field made of water was gradually taking shape at the centre of the stadium, a sight that never ceased to marvel Yevon.
His eyes strayed to a figure standing close to his left; it was Denzin. He gave Yevon a flat smile, to which Yevon returned the same.