Jason’s death had unified the group in a way few other events could have. Perhaps this was the Federation’s equivalent of the saying about weighty matters… what was it? Something about a mountain?
Lance wasn’t sure of the exact phrase, but the sentiment seemed fitting.
At 9 a.m., Lance arrived outside St. Naya’s Cathedral. His reputation among the Empire’s immigrant community had been growing steadily, and many greeted him warmly as he passed.
Lance skillfully cultivated this public image, knowing that greater success required him to become a figurehead—a “representative.”
People, after all, were a multi-purpose resource. To a capitalist, they were endless mines to be exploited. To a politician, they were weapons—capable of being swords or shields depending on the need.
In the hands of different leaders, people could take on vastly different roles. They could even be reused, like a washed condom—so long as it wasn’t broken.
Many people, such as Mr. Jobav, failed to grasp this concept. Jobav had a solid base of support but didn’t know how to utilize it. That lack of understanding made him weak.
If Jobav saw people as power instead of as a means to generate money, his strength would grow exponentially.
Lance, however, had no such problem. If he possessed Jobav’s support base, he would become unyielding—a fiery force that could melt anyone who dared to challenge him.
Jobav was present at the cathedral that day, but his demeanor was unusually subdued. He stood to the side, lost in thought.
Lance greeted him, but Jobav didn’t engage. In the past, Jobav might have approached Lance for a chat, and Lance would have respectfully paused to wait. Today, however, Jobav had no intention of talking, and Lance wasn’t interested in pressing him.
Jobav had recently dined with the mayor, who had shown interest in having Jobav join his team. But the conversation had left Jobav conflicted.
The mayor had presented him with a clear, albeit blunt, proposition:
> “Once the President secures reelection, he’ll start granting legal status to illegal immigrants. This will give them voting rights.
>
> “Jobav, you hold a prominent position in the Empire’s immigrant community. I’m glad you’ve seen the bigger picture and chosen to join us. But you know, every member of our team has proven their value.
>
> “So, what about you? How will you demonstrate to others that adding you to the team will make us stronger, not weaker?”
The directness of the mayor’s request—bordering on coercion—had left Jobav deeply uncomfortable. Back in the Empire, even greedy nobles would at least maintain an air of civility.
But here? There was no pretense of decorum, just a blatant demand for him to “give.”
Yet refusing wasn’t an option. Jobav was grappling with a significant problem involving Arthur and a missing shipment of liquor. Although Jobav was confident Arthur wasn’t behind the theft, the lack of evidence left him at a dead end.
Joining the mayor’s team seemed like the only viable path forward. But the “fill-in-the-blank” nature of the mayor’s demand—that Jobav prove his worth—was a source of frustration. ṚÀΝ𝐎ꞖΕṨ
If Jobav offered too much, he’d regret it. If he offered too little, the mayor’s team might reject him. He felt trapped.
While Jobav brooded, Lance approached a group of young men nearby.
Gerald, seeing Lance, eagerly waved and ran to his side. The other young men greeted Lance enthusiastically as well.
“You’ve started a family!” Gerald exclaimed with excitement. “I want to join!”
Lance was momentarily puzzled. “Who told you that?”
“Everyone’s talking about it,” Gerald said earnestly. “Even Ennio and the others are with you now.”
Gerald’s admiration for Lance was clear. Back on the ship, Lance had protected Gerald from a fate he didn’t want to imagine. Since then, Gerald had idolized him.
Lance glanced at Bolton, who was mingling with some well-dressed Imperial immigrants in the distance. Turning back, he smiled. “You’ll have to convince your uncle first.”
Gerald snorted. “He only cares about how much money I give him every month, not what I’m doing.”
“I thought you two got along,” Lance said.
“Only if you consider his expectations for more money at the end of the month,” Gerald replied bitterly. “He’s stingy and constantly reminds me that I should be grateful for my legal work status, as if it’s all thanks to him.”
“My parents actually paid him a large sum to take care of me.”
Lance hesitated. “What will you tell your parents if you join us?”
“I’m an adult. I can decide my own future,” Gerald said firmly.
Lance clapped him on the shoulder. “I’ll give you an address. Take care of your family matters first, then come find me.”
Gerald’s face lit up with a wide smile.
The rumors of Lance forming a family quickly spread among the young people, possibly leaked by someone in the group. Regardless, it didn’t affect his plans.
In fact, it was a timely development. Establishing a formal organization would amplify his influence far beyond what he could achieve as an individual.
Addressing the group of young men, Lance assured them that if they encountered problems they couldn’t solve, they could come to him. He couldn’t promise solutions but pledged to do his best.
“We’re all from the Empire,” Lance said. “In this hostile and unfamiliar country, we must look out for each other.”
Meanwhile, on Sunday morning, Patricia sat at her vanity, carefully applying makeup.
Mrs. Lawrence, peeking in from the hallway, noticed her daughter’s preparations and headed to the study.
“Patricia is going out again,” she remarked.
Mr. Lawrence, engrossed in his newspaper, didn’t look up. “Let her go. She’s grown now. We can’t control her life forever. It’s her life.”
“She’s putting on makeup,” Mrs. Lawrence added. “I think she’s going on a date.”
“Is it that… Lance fellow?” Mr. Lawrence asked hesitantly.
“Lance White, I believe,” his wife corrected. “You should show some respect to the young man—and to your daughter.”
Realizing his tone had been dismissive, Mr. Lawrence lowered his newspaper and raised his hands in mock surrender. “You’re right. That was a foolish thing to say. I apologize.”
Mrs. Lawrence pressed her point. “We should invite him over for dinner. We need to get to know him properly.”
Mr. Lawrence considered this. “You’re right. Ask her to invite him. That way, they’ll be home before dark.”
Knowing her husband’s protective instincts, Mrs. Lawrence smiled knowingly. She chose not to tease him but couldn’t hide her amusement entirely.
A few steps later, she knocked on Patricia’s door.
“Can I come in?”
Patricia, slightly flustered, glanced back. “Of course, Mom.”
Mrs. Lawrence entered and stood behind her daughter. “Going out with Lance?”
Patricia didn’t deny it.
“Your father wants to invite him over for dinner,” Mrs. Lawrence said.
Patricia spun around, wide-eyed. “That’s not appropriate!”
“Why not?” Mrs. Lawrence asked gently. “Is it because you two haven’t defined your relationship? Or is there another reason?”
Struggling to answer, Patricia fidgeted.
Mrs. Lawrence placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “It’s a great opportunity for us to meet him. We’re worried about you.
“You can’t expect us to wait until you announce your engagement before we meet him. It’s just dinner. I’ll make sure your father behaves and doesn’t interfere. I promise.”
After some thought, Patricia relented. “I can’t guarantee he’ll come, but I’ll ask.”
Mrs. Lawrence wiped the lipstick from her daughter’s lips with a handkerchief. “Show him your natural charm—that’s your greatest strength. Make me proud, my dear.”
Looking at her reflection, Patricia saw the fresh, confident young woman her mother described. She suddenly felt more self-assured.
Who needed makeup? She was beautiful just as she was.