His daughters made their way into the crowd to mingle. Fritz kept a little to the side at first, watching them. He had to blink away a little tear. They had become so big already, and so beautiful and strong and smart. Just like their mother. If only she could be here to see them now, he knew that she would be proud. But Fritz pulled himself together. He picked up a drink from a servant carrying an entire plate of them, and drink in hand he mixed in with the crowd. He knew many people here already, ofcourse; it was mostly the same people as always, although there were always new faces and there were always missing faces. He spotted a particular mask in the crowd and made his way over to the man. Even though the figure was mysterious now, a high priest who hides his appearance, Fritz still remembered the man as a little boy, and the way his eyes shone when he gave him the wooden bird with flapping wings made out of real feathers. Fritz nodded towards the younger man with respect - he was, after all, no longer that little boy, but a high priest - and raised his glass to him as a greeting. "Father", he said respectfully, but his eyes twinkled with amusement. The wine helped with that, too.