The meeting had been as routine as ever, mostly a matter of formalities and reports. It was nothing that anyone was ever terribly interested in, and certainly very little of it had any real consequence to the leaders that had gathered in Figaro. But, such was diplomacy, and Chairman Delaz had simply accepted the fact that such things were necessary in a newly politicized world.
The gathering had been followed by a formal dinner, and Delaz now stood outside on the walls of Figaro Castle, taking a few reflective moments to admire the desert sunset and think in peace for awhile. He found himself doing this sort of thing very often anymore. In many ways, Delaz was very different from Edgar and Cyan. That wasn't to say that he felt distanced or unaccepted, but he acknowledged that he was in a unique position among the world's leaders.
Figaro and Doma were long-standing kingdoms that had stood the tests of time and prospered for centuries. Delaz's Southern Union wasn't even half a century old, and he was its first leader. Maybe the cities of the Union had been free at some point, long before the iron-fisted occupation of the Empire; but if they had been, it had been so long ago that nobody even knew about it. For the people of Tzen, Albrook, and Miranda, sovereignty was something still new and exciting. It was uncharted territory, which they were eager to explore.
Every time Delaz found himself at these international summits, he couldn't help but feel a certain sense of pride. He had lived through the latter days of Gestahl's Empire, and had witnessed the ravaging of the world at Kefka's hands. He could still remember watching Kefka's Light of Judgement descend on Miranda and scorch the city beyond recognition. Delaz knew full well the variety of hardships the people of the south had endured, and it filled him with both pride and joy that they now enjoyed a free and peaceful existence. Smiling, he let his left hand rest on the hilt of his sword, hanging from his hip in a heavy leather scabbard.
"After all these years," he said to himself, "Swords are finally just another formality."
"Let's hope it stays that way," Edgar answered him with a smile. The king emerged at a calm pace from the doors behind Delaz, and quietly walked over to stand beside him.
"We fought long and hard to win this peace," Edgar continued, joining the chairman in gazing out at the sunset, "We'd all love to see it last."
"Kefka destroyed the Empire, and the Returners destroyed Kefka," Delaz said in a soft tone, "Our two greatest enemies are just names in the history books now."
"That's a dangerous way of thinking, Chairman," Edgar calmly scolded his friend, "Things are never quite so simple."
"You think someone else will step up where Kefka left off?"
"I'm not saying that," the king sighed, "But allowing yourself to believe that nothing bad will happen is one of the best ways to ensure that it does. Kefka and Gestahl are both gone, yes… But people are greedy, you know. Sooner or later, someone will start to get hungry for power again, it's inevitable. We can enjoy our peace, but we always have to be aware that it could end at any moment, and we have to remain alert to try and prevent that."
"That seems so… Pessimistic."
"I suppose it does. I don't mean to dampen your spirits, Chairman, not at all. I feel the same way you do, really – I'm eager to live out the rest of my days in peace." Edgar chuckled softly. "I'm an old man now, anyway. I'm not the sword-swinging Returner I was back then. I'd like to think I've earned a peaceful retirement."
"No, I suppose you're right," replied Delaz, turning to face Edgar, "If we really want to enjoy this peace, we need to be vigilant. You and the Returners earned it for us; now it's up to our generation to maintain it."
"I don't imagine that responsibility could be in better hands." Edgar's calm grin turned into a warm smile, and he reached out and clasped Delaz's hand in a firm shake.
"But you should be getting to your ship, shouldn't you? You've got quite a trip back to the capital in Albrook."
"I suppose I should," agreed Delaz, releasing the king's hand, "Thank you as always for your hospitality… And your kind words."
"I didn't say anything I didn't mean," said Edgar, keeping his smile, "When you're ready, I'll have our guards show you to the gates. I hope I'll hear from you soon." With one final grin and nod, Edgar turned from Delaz and disappeared back into the castle, leaving the chairman to a few final moments with the desert sunset before he left to meet his aides.
A few hours after Delaz's sunset meeting with Edgar, the chairman stood by the helm of his executive boat, under a star-filled night sky, flanked on one side by a thin, elegant-looking young man named Raphael, who served as Delaz's chief aide.
"Did you enjoy your little bonding moment with King Edgar?" he asked with a subtle grin.
"Of course," Delaz answered with his own grin, "Edgar is a good man. I only hope I can be that kind of leader someday."
"I wouldn't doubt it," said Raphael, "Your popular support has been overwhelming over these past few years. Even with the bi-yearly elections, I think you'll be in this office for quite some time."
"It's not the tenure, Raphael… I could be Chairman my entire life, but it wouldn't matter. Even if I lose this election next month already, I simply want to have a positive impact on our people."
"I don't doubt that you have already, Mr. Chairman," offered Raphael, "And for what it's worth, I think next month's election will be another landslide in your favor. I wouldn't trouble yourself with these things now, though. Why don't you get some rest? We should be docking in Albrook in just another hour or two."
Delaz was about to speak again, but his helmsman addressed him first from the bridge.
"Mr. Chairman!" he called out in a shout, "There's another vessel approaching us quickly from the mainland. Doesn't look like one of ours, though, shall we hail her?"
"Go ahead," ordered Delaz, pacing back to the helmsman and standing beside him, "She's probably just a merchant ship."
Behind Delaz, one of the crewman began flashing a bright light mounted on a post, hailing the other ship's attention. The boat remained silent, however, offering no indication of a response.
"That's curious," Delaz said idly, "Try again."
Again, the crewman flashed the hailing light toward the boat. This time, they saw a light coming from it. It didn't seem like a hailing light, however. It came from lower on the ship's hull, and was a flaming red color.
"Sir, that looks like-" The helmsman didn't have time to finish. It soon became apparent that the blazing red light was a weapon, and it struck the ship head-on, setting the bow on fire and rocking the boat violently.
"We're under attack!" Delaz shouted, "All hands, to your battle stations! Return fire immediately!" On his command, the boat began to turn, bringing her broadside to face the oncoming vessel. The enemy ship, however, continued to tear through the water at full speed, moving straight for their ship.
"Fire cannons!" barked a commanding Delaz. With a thunderous roar, the cannons along the ship's side spat out a line of heavy cannonballs toward their enemy. Most of the balls were off target, since the approaching ship's front side left a narrow target. One ball grazed the ship's side, but didn't appear to cause any significant damage.
Moments later, another bright red flash struck Delaz's ship, setting another series of fires that began to spread across the deck.
"We're being boarded!" came the frantic cry of one crewman. Sure enough, the enemy vessel careened into the side of their boat, and several wooden ramps were dropped from the ship's bow onto Delaz's deck.
"Everyone, abandon your stations and draw your swords! The fight is on deck!" Diaz shouted at the top of his lungs, drawing the heavy sword from its scabbard and holding it in one hand at his side. Just hours ago, he had reflected on the weapon as a simple formality. Now, here he was, ready to fight with it.
"Enemy on deck!" cried another crewman. Down the ramp came a number of imposing armored figures, carrying narrow blades. They cut down several crewmen as they came, casting aside the bodies of those who tried to impede their march.
One of them approached Delaz, and he immediately noticed something peculiar about his adversary. His armor was sturdy, but very compact. On closer inspection, he came to realize that there wasn't anyone in the armor – it was moving by itself! What he had assumed to be a sword was actually a blade embedded in the armored creature's forearm, and he soon found it being swung at his head. Delaz was able to duck the blow, and swing his mighty sword up over his head, bringing the weapon crashing down on the thing's shoulder, drawing a diagonal cut that severed the monstrosity in two.
"They're like some sort of robotic creatures!" said Raphael, shouting over the chaos on the deck. He came beside Delaz, holding a narrow rapier in his right hand.
"So it seems," Delaz said with a nod, advancing toward the boarding ramps. He and Raphael fought close to one another, cutting down the robotic invaders as they came. Their crew did not fare quite so well, however, as many of them were struck down quickly, their bodies cast overboard into the sea. Despite the valiant efforts of Delaz and Raphael, the two men soon found themselves surrounded by the grey-armored robots, with over a dozen blades pointed their way. The two men stood back-to back, blades still drawn, eyeing their enemies cautiously.
"It seems fate's caught up with us," Raphael said grimly.
"Indeed it has," came a man's voice. The circle around the two parted, and an older man with gray hair stepped into view, dressed in light armor and a grey overcoat. "I hope you've enjoyed your tenure, Mr. Chairman, because I intend to end your term tonight."
"Golan," sneered Delaz, "I knew I should have had you taken care of the first time you started causing trouble."
"Yes, I suppose you should have," Golan replied with a twisted smile, his green eyes twinkling with a sinister amusement, "But it looks like you missed your chance."
"Did we?" Raphael quickly lunged forward, thrusting his rapier straight for Golan's throat. Defying the appearance of his age, Golan leaned easily to one side to avoid the thrust and grabbed Raphael's arm, twisting it and forcing the man to his knees as the sword fell from his hand.
"Raphael!" Delaz moved to help his friend, swinging his own blade toward Golan. He never made it that far, however, and he quickly felt the narrow blade of one of Golan's robotic soldiers cutting into his chest. Delaz's blade joined Raphael's on the ground, and the wounded chairman staggered back toward the edge of the boat, leaning on the rail for support as blood trickled down his chest.
"I should have expected as much from you," smirked Golan, walking toward Delaz, "You're a very stubborn man, after all. But that won't save you here, Mr. Chairman… Nothing will."
"You bastard," Delaz growled, clutching his wounded chest with one hand, "You'll pay for this… If not by my hand, then by someone else's."
"Oh, certainly not by yours… Or your devoted aide's, either." Golan gave a simple nod, and the robot nearest to Raphael lowered its arm swiftly, severing the aide's head with a single motion.
"No!" Delaz screamed in agony as he watched his friend fall lifeless to the deck. In a fit of rage, he lunged at Golan again, but to no avail. The older man simply grabbed onto Delaz's arm, swung him back toward the rail, and hurled him over the edge. Delaz quickly grabbed onto the rail with one hand, the other still holding onto his bleeding chest.
"So you fight it all the way to the bitter end, do you?" chided Golan, "Well this is the bitter end for you, I'm afraid. Enjoy your afterlife." With a final arrogant smirk, Golan chopped his hand down onto Delaz's. The chairman lost his grip and fell with one last agonized cry into the waves.