The Imperial Calendar hanging in the grand hall marked the day in sharp, crimson ink: Day 57k 19.
Devin stared at it, adjusting the stiff, suffocating collar of his ceremonial tunic. Every cycle in this world dragged on for four hundred pars—four hundred long days, divided neatly into five rees. Today, however, was the only par that mattered. His eighteenth birthday. The day he would officially be confirmed as the Crown Prince of the Kingdom of Trangdar.
The heavy oak door to his chambers didn't just open; it flew inward with a dramatic bang.
"There's the little prince!"
Devin didn't even flinch. He turned away from the mirror to see his older sister, Queen Bridget, leaning heavily against the doorframe. She was twenty-four, breathtakingly elegant in her flowing cerulean gown, and completely, undeniably drunk.
"Bridget," Devin said, a genuine smile breaking through his usual cynicism. "You're starting early. The celebration doesn't begin until thirteen hundred."
"Time is an illusion, little brother," she slurred slightly, pushing off the frame and sauntering into the room. She held a crystal goblet filled with a shimmering, pale blue liquid. "Besides, I had to survive the voyage from Colstar. Do you know how boring a royal ship is when the trade council insists on traveling with you?"
Devin chuckled. Colstar. The kingdom loved by the ocean. Bridget had been married off to their king to secure a trade alliance, She hadn't fought the arrangement. Colstar was the only kingdom in the North where the subjugation of sub-humans didn't occur. For someone like Bridget—who carried the Holy Gene just like their mother—it wasn't an exile. It was an escape.
"You smell like kelp wine," Devin noted, taking the goblet from her hands and setting it on the table.
"And you smell like a boy who is terrified of a little public speaking," she countered, poking him hard in the chest. "Relax. They are going to love you. Just smile and don't trip over your own cape."
"I'll try my best," he muttered.
He looked at her, noting the slight flush in her cheeks. Colstar was a paradise. They specialized in marine tech, underwater herbs, and the provision of pure water. People said Colstar's water, which never needed treatment and could never be contaminated, was a direct blessing from God.
Devin sneered internally at the thought. God.
That was the one thing that truly separated him from every other sub-human in existence. The Holy Gene was supposed to be absolute. It was a biological mandate to possess an unwavering, automatic faith in the divine. But Devin? He felt nothing. He had the gene, but when he looked up at the sky, he didn't feel reverence. He just felt an empty, profound skepticism.
"Come on," Bridget said, grabbing his arm and dragging him toward the door. "The music is already playing in the ballroom, and I need to find something stronger than wine before I have to talk to the trade ministers."
The ballroom was a kaleidoscope of color and sound. Banners bearing the crest of Trangdar draped from the high ceilings, and the air was thick with the scent of roasted meats and expensive perfumes. Diplomats, nobles, and emissaries from trade-contracted kingdoms swirled across the dance floor.
Devin descended the grand staircase, maintaining a carefully practiced, neutral expression. Bridget had already abandoned him, vanishing into the crowd the moment she spotted a servant carrying a tray of high-proof spirits.
"If it isn't the man of the hour."
Devin turned at the bottom of the stairs to find a familiar, grinning face. Ferran Mortipia. Beside him stood his twin sister, Fenrys.
"Ferran. Fenrys," Devin said, his posture relaxing instantly. These were his people. His best friends from the United Educational Institute.
Ferran slapped him on the shoulder, nearly knocking him off balance. "Look at you, all dressed up and ready to rule! I almost didn't recognize you without a textbook shoved in your face."
"Someone has to do the reading, Ferran," Fenrys said quietly, her eyes bright with amusement. She was dressed in a modest, deep purple gown, the pride of the Mortipian royal family shining through her poised demeanor.
They were the only two scholarship students at the UEI—the most prestigious academy in the Northern region, accepting humans from across the borders. Ferran had secured a Frazer scholarship. He raced high-speed, dangerous racecycles on the tourney circuits, aiming for the title of Top Frazer. It was a sport that seemed alien in Trangdar, a kingdom severely lacking in such technology.
"When are you going to let me get you on a racecycle, Devin?" Ferran asked, grabbing a skewer of meat from a passing servant. "I swear, with your reflexes, you'd be a natural. We could dominate the duo-circuits."
"Trangdar doesn't even have roads smooth enough for a cycle, Ferran," Devin replied dryly. "If I tried to race here, I'd end up in a ditch."
"Details, details," Ferran waved him off, chewing loudly.
Devin caught Fenrys's eye. She offered a small, knowing smile. Fenrys was brilliant, holding an intellectual scholarship that most assumed was born of pure hard work. Devin knew better. Like him, she was a publicly undeclared sub-human. Her intellect was sharp, but the miraculous flashes of insight she occasionally displayed were undeniable to anyone who knew what to look for. She reminded him so much of his mother, Eleanor—highly motivated, brilliant, and forced to hide her true nature just to survive in a world that would burn her for it.
"Are you ready for the speech?" Fenrys asked softly, stepping closer so the loud music drowned out her words to anyone else.
"As ready as I'll ever be," Devin said. "Just hoping I remember the words."
"You will," she assured him. "You always do."
At precisely thirteen hundred hours, the music faded, replaced by the heavy, authoritative ringing of a brass bell.
The crowd parted as King Arthur stepped onto the raised dais at the end of the ballroom. He looked every bit the passionate, imposing monarch the kingdom loved.
"People of Trangdar, and honored guests from across the seas and borders!" Arthur's voice boomed, carrying effortlessly across the vast room. "Today marks a momentous occasion. For seventeen years, you have watched my son grow. Today, he steps into the light as your rightful Crown Prince!"
The applause was deafening.
Devin took a deep breath, smoothing the front of his tunic, and walked up the steps to stand beside his father. The sea of faces looking up at him was overwhelming.
He stepped up to the podium.
"I believe in the Kingdom of Trangdar," Devin began, his voice steady, projecting a confidence he didn't entirely feel.
A wave of applause erupted, echoing off the marble walls.
He waited for it to die down before continuing. "I believe in our people. And I believe in, and deeply value, the relationships we have forged with our neighboring kingdoms." He made a point to nod toward the Mortipian and Colstar delegations. "As Prince of Trangdar, I vow to serve this beautiful nation. I vow to give my all, every single day, until the day comes when I can give so much more as your King."
The crowd erupted again, the cheers even louder this time. Ferran was whistling loudly from the back, and Fenrys was clapping with a proud smile.
Devin stepped back, exhaling a quiet breath of relief. It was done.