The end of April was approaching. Soon, the real heat would arrive.
Isteia was generally a hot region, and in the peak of summer, the southern areas became so sweltering that it was difficult to be active during the day. Because of this, the upper classes — nobles and the wealthy middle class — often owned townhouses or villas in Elcantador, the capital, or nearby northern regions to escape the heat.
They would gradually migrate from mid-April, and by the end of April, most would be gathered near Elcantador.
Thus, for the upper class of Isteia, the end of April marked the beginning of the social season.
And the grand opening of that season was the debutante ball hosted by the Emperor.
The Emperor of the Isteia-Lorance Empire ruled by alternating capitals every other year — one year in Elcantador of Isteia, and the next in Burejeu of Lorance.
Of course, just because the Emperor wasn’t present didn’t mean the heat wouldn’t come. So even during years when the Emperor resided in Burejeu, the social season naturally began around May.
However, nobles with daughters had to be on high alert. If they missed this year, there were only two choices left:
Wait two years for the Emperor to return, or travel to Burejeu next year and have their daughter debut there.
But the former risked missing the optimal marriageable age, while the latter wasn’t recommended — unless one was willing to marry their daughter off far away in Lorance.
Astrid stared blankly at the map Lady de Vasquez had hung up. Burejeu was deep inland.
“If I’d been caught next year, I probably would’ve died before this necklace ever reached His Majesty.”
Astrid fiddled with the pendant dangling near her collarbone. As expected, this necklace still carried her father’s luck.
Since the bell tower incident, Astrid’s etiquette lessons continued at the Del Fontó mansion, as part of her extended house arrest.
Lady de Vasquez visited almost daily, sometimes with instructors, to oversee her lessons personally.
Astrid noticed the deepening hollows under her eyes. According to Rosana, she spent her mornings supervising preparations for the ball at the palace and her afternoons teaching Astrid at Del Fontó.
Feeling guilty seeing the lady so tired, Astrid had behaved well in her recent lessons. Thankfully, after finishing her fencing lessons in the morning, she felt sleepy in the afternoon but could still sit through the lessons.
Lady de Vasquez pointed to various locations on the map with a pointer as she continued her explanation.
Dotted lines divided territories — this land belonged to such-and-such duke, that one to some count. Astrid pretended to follow the pointer but kept her eyes on the coastline.
Despite everything, the closest coastal city to the capital was Rouge Rosada.
“It’s west from here… I wonder if I can get a compass.”
Lost in thought, she rested her chin on her hand until the pointer tapped sharply beside her.
“Miss Del Fontó. Please focus.”
“Ah, I’m sorry.”
Astrid straightened her posture.
“Rumors about you are already spreading among the socialites. As His Majesty’s ward, you must behave properly at the debutante ball.”
“Yes…”
Her unmotivated response made the lady add,
“If you maintain good behavior during your lessons and perform well at the debutante, I’ll speak with His Majesty to lift your house arrest.”
“Yes!”
Astrid’s eyes lit up at that. The lady sighed.
Next came dancing. When Lady de Vasquez asked if she had ever danced, Astrid sprang from her chair and began dancing joyfully while singing a sea shanty.
Rosana, standing at the doorway, stifled a laugh, while the countess swept a hand over her face before nodding.
“…Your voice is quite nice. I’ll bring in a singing instructor next time.”
Astrid’s lips clamped shut at the thought of yet another lesson.
The countess continued.
“Let me explain the order of the ball. The first dance is traditionally with the partner you arrive with — usually a male relative like a father or older brother.”
“I don’t have any male relatives in the family.”
“His Majesty has arranged someone for you. From the second piece onward, gentlemen will ask ladies to dance. Even if you like someone, you must not dance two consecutive pieces with the same partner. The number of dances you receive determines how successful your debut is.”
She kept it brief and sat at the clavecin (also called harpsichord) to play a simple melody.
“The dance rhythm is usually like this. Felix, since we have no male partner today, stand next to her and demonstrate the basic steps for ladies.”
Rosana stood beside Astrid, who closely watched her and copied the movements — forward, sideways, the opposite direction, then back. It didn’t seem too difficult.
The lady played three consecutive songs, and by the end of the last one, Astrid could manage on her own with decent rhythm.
Rosana praised her quick learning, but Lady de Vasquez still looked dissatisfied.
“I’ll bring a proper practice partner tomorrow.”
Next was dress fitting.
She had a trunk brought out, from which a white dress was removed. Astrid had tried it on once before at the palace, but the neckline and sleeve decorations had been altered. An amethyst brooch with a silver trim was attached to the chest — it resembled her father’s necklace.
The countess stepped out while Rosana helped her change. The petticoats were layered, and the skirt was wider than anything Astrid had ever worn.
If she wasn’t careful, she could easily sweep aside everything around her.
“It fits well. No further adjustments are needed.”
The countess examined her from all angles, turning her around like a doll. Just as Astrid began feeling dizzy, someone knocked on the door.
“Countess de Vasquez, young lady, sorry to interrupt your lesson, but a guest…”
It was the butler — and thanks to him, Astrid could finally stop spinning.
“Tell them to wait… Oh?”
The countess turned toward the butler and noticed the shining blonde hair behind him.
“Oh my, my! Look who it is, Florian Orteze!”
Standing behind the butler, looking a bit pale, was Florian.
“Greetings, Countess de Vasquez.”
He bowed deeply to the countess and gave Astrid a reluctant nod. The lady gestured him in, and he stepped forward hesitantly.
She looked at him as if she couldn’t adore him more.
“Still working hard, I see.”
“Yes…”
He couldn’t bring himself to say that his father sent him here without any real reason, so he just nodded.
“So diligent. If only my eldest son were half like you.”
Then the countess glanced between Astrid and Florian. She suddenly smiled brightly — Astrid had never seen her look like that before.
“You know how to dance courtly dances, don’t you?”
“…What?”
“Huh?”
Florian now stood across from Astrid, who wore a white dress. No wonder his head ached since morning — it must have been a cursed day.
His father, blushing like a teen since hearing Florian had tea here last time, paced around his office and eventually forced him into a carriage headed to the Del Fontó mansion.
The butler was strange too. Despite having no appointment, he led him straight to the young lady in the middle of her private lesson.
“Did my father bribe him?”
A reasonable suspicion.
As the two took hands, Lady de Vasquez began playing the clavecin. The bright melody filled the room.
One, two, three. One, two, three.
As expected from a beginner, her steps were rough. Even worse, from the perspective of someone used to dancing, she kept trying to lead rather than follow.
Florian had to guide her back into rhythm every time. Fortunately, Astrid didn’t resist, and the dance, somehow, looked decent.
“Your hand… is really soft.”
“What?”
Startled by the sudden comment, Florian sent her twirling away.
Astrid’s turns weren’t graceful but full of energy and joy.
“Up close, your eyelashes are really long too.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Just saying.”
Every time she looked like she might say something, Florian made her spin again. Soon, their dance was half steps, half spins.
With each turn, her wide skirt flared in a perfect circle.
“Orteze, too many turns. And Miss Del Fontó, don’t whisper while dancing. It’ll spark rumors.”
Lady de Vasquez stopped playing and offered a warning. Thankfully, she hadn’t played the entire song, and Florian was merely tired — not completely exhausted.
The lady checked her watch, closed the clavecin, and stood up.
“That’s enough for today. Orteze, since you’re here anyway, stay and help her practice more.”
She packed her map and pointer into the trunk and had a servant load it onto the carriage.
The young pair saw her off at the front gate. The carriage bearing the imperial seal rolled away with a soft sound.
“I thought you said you wouldn’t come again.”
Astrid poked his side. Tense, Florian leaned against a pillar and slid down, sitting with a thud. Astrid quickly pulled him up.
“…My father made me come.”
It was an embarrassing reason. He didn’t want to seem like a man who obeyed his father unquestioningly at this age — even if the entire capital knew he did.
Still, Florian told the truth. Something about her made him feel like she wouldn’t mock him — even if she had once held a sword to his neck.
“It’s good to listen to your dad!”
Astrid laughed in the glow of the setting sun. Florian winced at the dazzling light and shielded his eyes.
“Wanna take a walk? The garden’s finished.”
“I don’t think we’re the type to go on walks together.”
“Fine, suit yourself.”
She shrugged.
“It’d be nice if you came to the ball. It’d be less nerve-wracking to see a familiar face.”
“I told you, I can’t go.”
“…Sorry.”
“What?”
Startled, Florian dropped his hand from his eyes and looked at her.
“Back on the ship… Sorry for pointing a sword at you.”
“…What’s with the sudden apology?”
“Well, I was wrong, so I’m apologizing.”
Astrid stuck out her right hand. Her voice had lost all its usual playfulness.
“I just… feel like I want to get along with you from now on.”
Florian stared at the hand. It was an unexpected apology — one that would surely make his father happy.
His father… would be happy.
The thought of his father pressed heavily on his chest.
“I accept your apology.”
He shook her hand. Astrid smiled, then gasped.
“Ladies aren’t supposed to shake hands!”
“Is that really the issue right now…?”
Florian let out a deflated laugh.
