Lance, with Rebecca on his arm, was announced as they entered the hall. Lance wore grey chinos, with an open, black, wool overcoat over a grey suit vest, over a white collared button up with a grey and black striped tie in a four in hand knot with plain toe balmoral. While Rebecca wore a sleeveless white mermaid dress, with kitten heels. They turned quite a few heads as they entered the ball. The first to greet them are the Rymentall staff, then the announcers Tresha and Feabin, then the other competitors. Including: Fenton, who has on black pants, white collared shirt that didn’t quite fit his tall frame, wrinkled sports coat, and scuffed marks on his dress shoes. Monique wears a red, strapless, traditional, ball gown, with T strap heels. And Trent, who wears chinos that are too tight exposing his socks, and a jacket that's too small. It’s trendy to wear clothes slightly small in Falcon Rest circles, but not necessarily fashionable.

  Lance and Rebecca part ways with the competitors to start working through the list of people Lance is to schmooze. They start by talking to a representative from a district adjacent to Ylishia province. After trying to form a good impression, and listening with rapt attention to the representative’s stories, Lance suggests ways that Ylishia and their province can be closer, and how Elder Whistler would be delighted to talk to the representative. Lance sets up a meeting between the three at an upcoming date. Rebecca, already bored from schmoozing, excused herself to go talk with Fenton, Trent, and Monique. Lance still had a long night ahead of him and searched out the second target on his list.

  Fenton seeing Rebecca walking their way waved her over.

  “Rebecca will understand what I mean by ‘fortunate to be here’. Aren’t we in some way lucky to be at this ball tonight?” Fenton asks Rebecca, throwing her into the middle of some argument.

  “I wouldn’t say that there was luck involved. I became a mechanic for mechabelli. Why wouldn’t I be at a ball for mech pilots?” Rebecca responds already questioning if this is going to be better than schmoozing.

  “See, Rebecca gets it! If you are perceived to be the right caste then it’s obvious that you’ll get invited.” Monique chirps in.

  “That’s not what …”

  “You are both missing the mark. There is an obligation to be at parties like these for your family. If you are born powerful enough then you have the obligation to attend.” Trent interrupts Rebecca.

  “Babe that is not right, even if you are born to a wealthy family, if they aren’t trying to influence outcomes then they aren’t a powerful family and therefore can be skipped being invited. You have to make yourself a player.” Monique is insistent on her perspective.

  “Sugar, once you get so large you can help but shape outcomes. It is the responsibility of those born to use it wisely. An elephant doesn’t get smaller just because people have the wrong perception. If I wasn’t invited it simply means that the host is a fool.”

  “Okay I hear what yall are saying, but is there something to be said for who your friends are? I mean if I didn’t save Trent back when I wouldn’t be here today. Call it fortune or chance or luck, something outside of my control led me to be here.”

  Rebecca flags down a sommelier, takes two glasses, downs one drink, then returns the wine glass.

  The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  “Announcing the arrival of General Nixion.”

  Nixion stands an imposing 2m tall, his face like stone features formed by weathering, dressed in a mess dress uniform, his lapel holding medals that told the story of his career. His first tour of service had him as front line mechanic during The Great War. Then went on to become a mechabelli pilot during ‘The War of Restitution’. The medals show a steady rising in the rank, with this man being involved with every army operation in independent Falcon Rest history. The man smiled and back slapped his way through the crowd, having everyone in the room’s attention. Until he got to a staged area, and spoke to the crowd through the microphone.

  “First, I would like to thank Rhymentall for hosting this event. It is a pleasure to see what the best of civilian mechabelli pilots can do. It also gives the soldiers something to study in their class time. Second, I want to congratulate Lance of Ylishia for winning the tournament. It is a pleasure that Ylishia has moved its energy in a more productive direction. The tragedy for the people of Ylishia is over, and now we can come together over sport. Third, I would like to talk to a pilot whose skills shone above the rest, Trent. Clearly a cut above anyone else on the field. Fourth, in order to combat the increased terrorist activity of the YML in Merchese, I use the powers, delegated to me by Prime Minister Horus, of conscription. Those of requisite skill to pilot mechs will be prioritized. This will impact this community most of all. Fifth, because of the need for pilots we will be outlawing all mechabelli tournaments after the Quarst Cup till the acute terrorist threat is over. Thank you, and that will be all my announcements for the evening. Now if Trent could make their way up to the stage.”

  Trent walks over to the stage lacking the confidence he normally exuded.

  “Hello General Nixion, what you said earlier is high praise coming from someone as experienced as yourself.” Trent introduces himself accepting the older man’s firm handshake.

  “I just call them like I see them son. You outta sign up ahead of time. It would be a waste for you to get drafted. If you sign up before you are selected for service it is much easier to be a leader of a mechabelli squad or get trained for mechabelli special forces.”

  “Thank you for the advice, I will take it under consideration. I take service to protect my family seriously and that extends to my country.”

  “Good, and next time don’t go easy on that Ylishian scum. I understand wanting to show them that you can beat them with your arms tied behind your back, but you got too cocky and that’s why you lost. You can’t let Ylishians build up pride like that. They only understand force. Gotta keep them under your thumb otherwise they start getting delusions of grandeur. Everyone knows they are just looking for an excuse to secede from Falcon Rest. I think someone with your attitude ought to be in charge of the newly drafted Ylishians.”

  “Oh ahhh … yes”

  “Been a pleasure son. You keep them in their place.” Nixion says before walking to the exit.

  Trent walks back to his group, and Monique can tell from Trent's body language that something was wrong. Monique pulls Trent away for a dance.

  “What did the General say?”

  “He thought that I wanted to put Ylishians in their place. He called them scum.”

  “That does sound like something you’d be interested in.”

  “No… wait is that what you think I want? Is that what I sound like?”

  “I mean you were pretty intense over dinner. You called Ylishians boot licking colonist sympathizers.”

  “But that is like one thing, and it’s totally different to see them as scum. I don’t want to be like him. It’s just what your suppose to say when Ylishia comes up”

  “Babe I think you need to figure some stuff out, but I’ll be here no matter what you decide.”

  Trent gives a reluctant smile while they waltzed and then leans in to kiss his partner.