Weiss stole a moment to stare at her reflection; her handmaiden standing in the doorway, blocked by the door she held open, waited without a word but that could only last for a few seconds. Starting at her hips, Weiss carefully stacked her vertebrae with an inhale, ending in a roll of her shoulders. Her exhale saw her posture settling into place, visibly rounding it off into something vaguely reminiscent of a casual posture, accompanied by a smile so subtle only the softening of her cheeks indicated it. Her hand rose, fingertips hovering just over the start of her hairline; she brought it down deliberately, pausing only under her chin before her arm dropped, the expression wiped from her face. Though they never grazed her painted skin, she felt that light touch and the weight that followed. Her mask for the night was in place.

The heiress passed the young woman who had helped her get dressed, although now with little recognition of familiarity. Behind her the door closed, but the heiress paid it no heed as she made small, light, lithe steps down the hallway she knew well. When she reached the point where the house wing of the manor met the others, for the estate was built with six branching corridors that met at a central point, she turned left toward the wing whose function was primarily for entertaining, which she typically saw only once every month or two. She could not recall if she had been told where to make her entrance, and possibly wouldn't know where that door was anyway; once in the proper wing the movements of staff and tendrils of noise leaking from behind doors were always enough to guide her into position.

Stalled before the large, ash wood doors, the heiress visualised the scene beyond so vividly that the light wood need not be opened to reveal it. Her eyes traced the lines of texture, her hands far beyond any need to reach out or even twitch to feel the smooth polish and pointed edges of the engravings. More than two years had passed since she first stood before a set of these doors, ready to be presented, her father at her side; it was premature at 13, it should have been earlier this year, but pressure on her father had led it to be pushed earlier. Winter was to wait, much to her dismay for the allure of dresses and socialising was fanciful to her, sheltered from the practicality of it all; at her birthday her pleas will likely be renewed in earnest with claims that her sister had debuted at her age.

A servant each, the doors slid to either side, revealing the expected display of expensive clothing adorning well-groomed people of society from which a hum of conversation was emitted below her. The heiress stepped forward, halfway to the railing of the ornate staircase, presenting herself before the guests that hushed and turned one-by-one despite the well-oiled doors failing to announce her. Hair bound to one side, decorated but free to hang down, served as a complement to the flawless gown with its pleasing aesthetic of asymmetry. Contrary to her father's wishes, however, her hair was pulled to the right, highlighting the scar over her left eye. It had been concluded sometime before her first descent of these steps that her hair long and unbound highlighted her youth, capable of giving her freedom for minor mistakes and encouraged guests to drop their guard around her; she presented her scar silently so that her words might be granted consideration more than casual dismissal.

The heiress, having garnered a sufficient amount of the guests' attention, descended the ornate staircase to the right, a gloved hand hovering over the banister. A melody independent of any composed song wafted through the room, dominated by strings, serving to highlight the current atmosphere of introductions and light mingling. With limited time until the meal was served each guest had a duty to meet with certain acquaintances, not one free from careful observations on how much time was spent with any other. The heiress had the advantage of not needing to seek out many of hers; a line had already begun at the bottom of the staircase. Her hand was offered to the first, her face warping into a smile as he took it and she spoke his name.

Those interactions were relatively short, a few lines of small talk apart from greetings and some mercifully accepted a group conversation if they wanted the benefit of additional time. However, the people it was imperative she meet with had not sought her out, understanding too well that she would seek them out in time. The heiress had yet to locate the head of Schnee Dust Company, but had dared not look around the room whilst speaking with guests. She adroitly side-stepped a woman eager to speak with her and carefully entered a conversation between the head of the Mining Regulations Board and the wife of an affluent land-owner that had seemed to reach an impasse.

Twas a simple matter for her entrance to shift the conversation to polite topics. Using practiced finesse the heiress turned the conversation to the head of the Mining Regulations Board and without much wasted time offhandedly mentioned her father's trouble with a mine to the east of Atlas. She allowed just enough time for him to cast off the idea of business and bothers before emphatically insisting he follow her to meet the lovely daughter of an Atlesian Air Force Brigadier General, set to marry the son and heir to the largest shipping company in the kingdom. His hesitation, vocalised by claiming that he was a simple public servant in outmatched company, was respectfully ignored by the heiress as she remarked favourably on the match.

The heiress flitted around the ballroom in a similar fashion. She introduced a new member of the building regulations committee to the owner of an array of factories and warehouses, starting them on a conversation about innovations in material strength. A charming young man climbing ranks in the Royal Tax Commission, the branch that covers the whole kingdom, introduced himself to her with a kiss of her hand and feigned a blush when his companion added that his mother was decorated in the military and heir to a manufacturing corporation. As time ran low she greeted a group of debutantes nearest her own age as though they were old friends, sliding into a conversation of potential suitors but not contributing.

Soon the music changed, the pace quickening and volume increasing, politely interrupting conversations. Guests split off from the small groups, finding their place settings among the tables that lined the hall. Servants brought in a few additional tables, already set, with great care and skill as space opened up. Along her way to the head table, the heiress was slowed by guests determined to have their moment but she kept them as brief as she cordially could. The head table had few differences from the others, located centred before the stage and at it seating Mr. Schnee along with the other most respectable people of Atlas, yet it was effortless to distinguish it amongst the sea of round, white-clothed tables.

The dinner was a many-course business affair, the main event of the evening regardless of any pretences. Mr. Schnee directed much of the conversation while his dutiful daughter, sitting across from him, listened quietly or engaged anyone who had grown too argumentative. While her manners were rigid and precise, his gave an air of comfort and nonchalance that softened his imposing societal stature. The head table was still sipping warm beverages after dessert as people at other tables found themselves on the dance floor or moving seats to meet with another associate. By the time the head table had stood and concluded business most of the guests were moving around; the extra tables, along with some others, had been removed, their chairs added to the remaining tables.

The heiress quickly found herself descended upon by the usual line of suitors and lobbyists the moment the music turned to recognised dance pieces. Each was allowed a single dance, attempts at a second were treated only as jokes, accepted with grace and ended with gratitude and a curtsy. The bulk of the list, containing a sparse few she was not familiar with, got their turn before she respectfully declined the next, requesting a break. The man genially walked her to an empty table and went to send a waiter with water over but did not return himself, content to converse with other guests until his turn came, a gesture not unnoticed by the heiress, who smiled as she sipped from the glass.

The crisp liquid moistened her tongue and cooled her cheeks, aching from the well-practiced smiles. She watched rainbows form from twirling dresses across the ballroom, led by smart, well-fitted suits. The beats of soft steps, made audible only by their number, accentuated the music that continued tirelessly. After another absentminded drink from the glass, condensation drenching her hand, her eyes glazed over as they followed the rhythmic movement of the skirts. The scrape of a chair across from her highlighted how nice yet odd it was that she had been given a moment of peace; attention brought back to the present she found her new companion was a young woman, older than herself, wearing a long, red dress, simple in cut but elegant, which covered the tops of her arms in short sleeves and was accessorised with only a muted, yellow scarf tight around her neck, the ends of which trailed behind her. Stranger still, the woman sat in the seat across from her sideways, one arm resting on the back, facing the ballroom with not so much a glance at the heiress.

It was the end of the next song before the heiress turned back to the woman and finally broke the silence between them with a smile and a simple, "Hello."

"Hello Ms. Schnee, how do you do?" replied the woman, peeling her attention from the dance floor to the hostess, adding a small bow of her head in lieu of a curtsey. Her unnaturally dark hair, in stark contrast to the heiress's, seemed eager to remain over the front of her shoulder regardless of the red bow that tied it back and that it was nearly too short to rebel.

"I am fine, thank you, and yourself? Are you enjoying this soiree?"

"Well, thank you for asking. Very much so, your house is very skilled at planning grand events."

"Ah, you are too kind, but I shall be sure to pass on the compliment."

The guest's attention drifted back to the revellers, seeming to have no interest in forcibly carrying the conversation or promoting a particular topic. The heiress's attention lingered, disturbed that she could not recall the name of this woman. Curiosity and an unwillingness to be at a disadvantage eventually winning out over the desire to not present as unprepared, she worked herself up to ask.

"Pardon my ignorance, but I cannot seem to recall your name."

The woman turned, her torso following her head, a smile showing that she took no offence. "You may call me Aschelle tonight. Aschelle of the family Glas."

"It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Aschelle of Glas."

"The pleasure is mine."

The silence between them returned, both focused on observing the other guests, but it was not uncomfortable, at least not for the heiress that savoured the momentary pause in expectations to carry on conversation. The song drew to a close but another did not fill its place. It was time for the band's break. A lone violinist stood centred on the stage and began to play a calm, winding tune. Guests disbursed from the dance floor, dancers finding bystanders, and conversation picking up throughout the hall. Servants streamed in with trays of beverages, trays of canapés to come next. Predictably, there was soon a crowd around the heiress, including in chairs turned from near-by tables.

"Yes, the mountain towns are lovely but the security is woeful and this time of year the lower regions begin to face flooding." said Aschelle, turning toward the heiress as the pairs and trios of suitors, along with businesspeople not quite important enough to disturb the head of house found themselves near the two young ladies.

Surprised, the heiress hid it within a smile. "Of course, of course, but there is something undeniable about the air there, no?"

A few of the newcomers attempted to join the discussion, but did not press the issue. A few peeled off as they started their own version of it, while those on the outer rings of the group had struck up conversation from introductions. It was a short back-and-forth before the two ladies allowed the others to insert themselves, either by mention of property, travels, or regulations on the two. Despite the inevitability of the conversation turning to serious matters, Aschelle and the heiress took turns slowing it down with a comment toward lighter topics. Just as the topic was shifting from simple debate to a meeting of contradicting opinions the band returned to the stage marked by a modest round of clapping.

Aschelle stood while tapping her hands together lightly, then turned to the heiress. "May I have this dance?" she asked, offering a hand over the table to the younger woman. Her arm extended past another, recently debuted, between the two of them in age.

"I believe I owe a song to Lieutenant General Grunewald first," she replied, indicating a man standing not far from her, "but I can offer you the next." she suggested before adding to the group, "I would be remiss, however, to leave my friend here alone." The heiress swallowed a bad taste from her mouth, despite it being imaginary; that word had felt strange, perhaps it had too commonly become a word to use falsely, was it used differently now?

Several people eagerly volunteered, including a woman about Aschelle's age that headed a line of breweries, giving her quite the selection to choose from. Many had done so to win favour in the eyes of the heiress, including the woman, but the black-haired woman in the red dress failed to even look at them; easily picking out the volunteers that had taken an interest in her, with a smile to one that had not volunteered, she offered her hand to a young man who had. He took it, as did L.G. Grunwald the heiress's, and the two new friends were led to the dance floor.

Many dances later some guests had retired for the night and behind the thinned crowd the heiress and Aschelle Glas once again sat at an otherwise empty table, this time only a single chair apart. Even the music had switched to less energetic melodies. Across the room, drunken laughter boomed from someone in the group around Mr. Schnee, even they had returned to a table for their discussions. Aschelle and the heiress were each sipping a sparkling beverage, again without needing to hold a conversation, watching the people with business agendas slowly concede and leave while revellers attempted to remain steady on the dance floor.

"I should get going, I have an early lesson in the morning." Aschelle announced.

"Oh? Must you? How unfortunate."

"Yes, I have enjoyed your company very much, but the world doesn't stop for a party." she said as she stood up.

Weiss stood up in response, "Thank you for joining me, it was a pleasure. Would you like me to walk you out?"

"No thank you, I recall the way. Have a good night."

"Good night to you as well." The heiress hesitated, tempted to kiss her cheek as one does with favoured people but Aschelle was already two paces away. She settled for one last remark, "Hopefully it won't go much later." It was a personal statement, something beyond pleasantries and business politics.

In less than an hour the heiress had been excused for the night and reached the threshold to her rooms. Her handmaiden was there, but did not appear to have been waiting long. She was handed a warm cloth as she sat down and scrubbed her face while the handmaiden began unclasping the dress. Weiss sighed and rolled her now-free shoulders as she placed the cloth on the table and removed her shoes. The handmaiden had proceeded to unlacing the corset before she spoke.

"How was your evening?"

Weiss's tired face pulled upward with a hint of a smile, "Not much different than most events, but there was this one woman I met."

"Oh? Someone new?"

"I believe so. I do not recall meeting her previously but we got along well."

"Could she be recently debuted?"

"No, she's quite a bit older than me. Perhaps 24? I did not pry beyond her name."

"What's her surname?"

"Glas, I did not recognise it."

"Nor I, could it be a family that has arisen recently?"

"I'm not sure. She held herself flawlessly."

"Could she have moved recently? Perhaps away with her family through the military? or from another city in the kingdom?"

"I suppose. The white one." said Weiss, naming one of the two nightgowns the handmaiden held.