Home, sweet home. Or at least one of them.

The carriage rolled up at Duncan's family mansion in the capital city—they had several more spread across Adovoria and even a couple in a few nearby countries. However, this was likely their most impressive estate, having been built five centuries ago.

The grand mansion stood tall and proud, its white marble façade glistening in the afternoon sunlight with carved depictions of the great wars of the past that the Genuiver Duchy engaged in. Lush gardens enveloped the mansion with vibrant flowers and meticulously sculpted hedges.

He had barely stepped out of the carriage when a loud shriek sounded.

"Duncan!"

He turned to his right and saw his younger sister, Anastasia, burst out into the courtyard with unrestrained enthusiasm. Her laughter filled the air, and her crystal-clear voice echoed across the expansive grounds. It had been several years since they last saw each other, ever since their father, burdened by the pressure of his advisors, passed the position of heir to Anastasia instead of Duncan.

"I received your letter, but I didn't think you'd actually make it!"

Anastasia rushed towards Duncan with open arms, her long coiled blonde hair bouncing with each step.

"It's been a while. I hope you've been well?" Duncan embraced her in a hug and smiled down at his younger sister.

"Been well? Ugh. Do you know how much stress I've been under lately? I bought out an entire boutique to let off some steam, yet I still find myself devoid of suitable attire." She pulled away and inspected Duncan.

She twirled her finger, and Duncan, understanding her, circled in place.

"You look better than I expected," she said. "I guess you can't trust rumors; someone told me you looked like a traveling nomad."

Duncan chuckled. He suspected that whoever passed along that message must have caught sight of him because he did look like a traveling nomad until he ran into Luca.

"Ah! Where are my manners? A drink! And food!" With a mischievous glint in her eyes, Anastasia beckoned Duncan towards the gardens in the back.

She tugged his arm down a path lined with fragrant pink blooms. In a secluded corner under the shade of a willow was a table set up with delicate champagne flutes and a large spread of cheese, crackers, and fruit.

Three individuals seated at the table were clearly less than pleased with Duncan's appearance. They were Anastasia's advisors and part of her traveling entourage–the son and daughters of prominent nobles living within the Genuiever Duchy. However, they weren't so prominent that they fell into the top twenty-seven nobles of Adovoria. Thus they remained as advisors to one such as Anastasia.

"You're still alive and kicking?" One of the women with an exceedingly long nose commented. The other woman merely nodded in his direction with a tightlipped smile.

"You didn't come to tell us we were all going to perish soon, again, are you?" The man beside the two ladies poured himself a new glass of champagne.

Duncan glanced up at the numbers above each of the three heads. The woman that hadn't spoken yet and the man both had a decade remaining, which was still not much given they were in their early thirties. Still, it was much better than the five years the woman with the long nose had.

"Oh, stop teasing him!" Anastasia chided them and pulled Duncan to a new seat that a servant had placed for him.

"What brought you into the capital, then?" The man asked.

"A job," Duncan replied, accepting a plate of cheese and fruit Anastasia picked out for him.

"A job?" The man laughed. "You have certainly changed. What job, pray do tell!"

"It's still in progress, so I can't quite say," Duncan replied.

He saw no reason to explain himself to these three. Even though Anastasia was friends with them, he didn't care for them. The feeling was obviously mutual.

"No more talk of work," Anastasia piped in. "I want to enjoy this beautiful day outside and this tasty champagne."

She poured herself another glass and took it down like water.

The trio exchanged worried looks.

"Anastasia…. How many glasses have you had now?" The long-nosed woman asked.

"Oh, this must be my fifth now." Resting her empty champagne flute on the table, Anastasia pouted, her voice tinged with melodrama. "You won't be a party pooper and say I can't have more?"

"That's not it, dear Anastasia," the man replied, setting down his flute. "A little champagne never hurt anyone, but you know we have the Noble Council to attend soon."

"It's going to be a long meeting. You'll need to be in the right state of mind," the second woman added.

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"But you said a little champagne wouldn't hurt—it would relax me."

The man laughed nervously in reply. "Yes, but five glasses isn't a little. We know you have a higher tolerance than us, but attending the Noble Council intoxicated wouldn't be wise. Perhaps I can have one of the servants fetch a replenishing potion?"

"You know I hate the taste of those things." Anastasia rolled her eyes. "I always throw up after having one of them. The smell is enough to make me retch."

One of the ladies pulled out a pocket watch and showed it to the other two.

"Anastasia, we only have two hours to go," she said. "Perhaps it would be wise to head up into the mansion and relax your head, if you're so unwilling to take a replenishing potion?"

Anastasia's annoyance became palpable as she crossed her arms, her voice laced with irritation. "There's still two hours! And must you three be so rigid now of all time? Can't you see I'm enjoying a rare moment with my brother, whom I haven't seen in so long?"

The man cleared his throat, his voice betraying a hint of unease. "Dear Anastasia, it is imperative that you attend the Noble Council. The topics being voted on today hold great significance to all of our futures."

The two women nodded.

Unperturbed, Anastasia poured another glass of champagne, her laughter now edged with mischief. Raising her drink, she made a grand gesture toward Duncan. "Here's a thought. My esteemed brother, Duncan, shall take my place at the council."

The trio of exchanged bewildered glances, taken aback by the unexpected suggestion.

Duncan gazed at Anastasia, taken aback himself and wondering what she was scheming.

"Anastasia, such a proposition is highly irregular. Your presence is of utmost importance," one of the trio replied.

Anastasia waved away their concerns with a dismissive flick of her hand. "I am intoxicated, as you say. And I have grown weary of the suffocating rules and stifling expectations of the Noble Council. Besides, Duncan is still a representative of the Genuiver Dukedom and thus a viable replacement."

Amidst the murmurs of protest, Anastasia leaned closer to Duncan, her voice lowering to a confidential whisper. The veneer of drunkenness dissipated, and she spoke with a clarity that belied her earlier performance of intoxication. "Duncan, I need your help. Publicly opposing the Lineage Act of 740 would raise eyebrows and jeopardize my position in court. I originally planned to simply not show up at all; however, with you here, I have an alternative. Vote on the remaining issues however my advisors suggest, but vote against the Lineage Act of 740."

"I understand," Duncan replied.

He had been wondering for a while now, on what pretense Anastasia was pretending drunkenness. Unlike most people, his younger sister had a strange disposition where alcohol had no effect on her, and replenishing potions made her ill instead of better. However, she never let on this little secret of hers to anyone else apart from Duncan. She gained satisfaction from behaving drunk and doing as she pleased without consequences while being thoroughly aware of her surroundings.

Anastasia pulled away and smiled. Playing her part, she poured herself another glass of champagne to the protests of her advisors.

***

The heavy oak doors of the Noble Council creaked open, revealing Duncan Genuiver to the expectant room. As he stepped forward, a voice echoed through the chamber, breaking the silence.

"Presenting Lord Duncan Genuiver of the Genuiver Dukedom," the herald announced, his voice carrying a tinge of surprise.

Whispers erupted like wildfire, spreading like ripples on a pond among the nobles. They leaned in, their curiosity piqued, as they exchanged hushed comments about the unexpected turn of events.

Duncan, undeterred by the sudden attention, strode confidently to his designated seat at the High Table, reserved for the royal family and the three dukedoms. He adjusted the black silk mask that concealed the scar across his face with a quick, fluid motion. The murmurs continued, punctuated by stolen glances and curious stares.

The trio of advisors that followed him inside dispersed to greet and talk with advisors serving other voting members of the Noble Council.

Just as the whispers began to fade, a new announcement resonated through the hall. "Presenting Duchess Meriwa Ozeryn and Lady Sedna Ozeryn of the Ozeryn Dukedom."

Tap. Tap. Tap.

The room fell into a hushed silence as the nobles fixated on the young woman. Sedna, her face determined, made her way forward, aided by a metal contraption attached to each of her arms, enabling her to walk despite the weakness in her legs. Duchess Meriwa walked beside her, a pillar of strength and poise.

Whispers swirled behind Duncan, a soft chorus of pity and sympathy. They painted a sorrowful picture of a young woman burdened by her affliction, their voices tinged with regret and questioning the choices made on her behalf.

"Why does the Duchess force her poor daughter to attend these meetings? She should be enjoying what little time she has left," one voice murmured.

"Enjoying? I would have wanted the easy way out if I were in her position," another voice sounded. "Forget the wrath of whatever gods they pray to. Living like that is just not worth it."

Duncan, gazed down into his hands, feeling a pang in his heart. The disease or curse that afflicted Sedna was a mystery, despite the Ozeryn family putting significant effort into identifying and finding a cure for their one and only heir. Whatever it was, it caused her hair to turn an icy blue and gradually made her lose control over her muscles, starting with her limbs.

Sedna was just twenty years old but had just four years left. Duncan suspected those four years would only grow more difficult and painful as Sedna's muscles continued to deteriorate.

As Duchess Meriwa and Sedna took their seats beside Duncan at the High Table, the room gradually shifted its attention back to other matters. Conversations resumed, filling the air with the low hum of discussions about politics, trade, and alliances.

"What a surprise to see you here." Duchess Meriwa smiled at Duncan.

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat and glanced up her way for the first time since she had entered the room. He had been attempting to avoid looking toward the two this entire time.

A decade ago, when he first met Sedna, she was but a child and celebrating her tenth birthday. And at that party, he had mistakenly offered his insight about her impending death to the Duke and Duchess. It was not well received. It caused a scandal at the party and cemented his removal as heir.

"I've been meaning to apologize," Duchess Meriwa continued speaking. "I don't know how you knew back then, but thanks to you, we were able to begin investigating treatments for Sedna when the first signs of trouble began."

"Perhaps it would have been better if he never intervened," Sedna muttered, seated on the other side of her mother.

"Sedna!" Duchess Meriwa exclaimed. "Don't say that. We'll find a way."

"Why? Haven't I suffered enough?" Sedna leaned forward, and her golden eyes met Duncan's.

Duncan instinctively gazed up at the hanging number above Sedna's head. He smiled, seeing that the number four had changed to a six. Although it ultimately cost him his position, his intervention appeared to have helped, albeit only two years were added to her lifespan.

No. Two years is a long time.

However, his eyes were then drawn to another number, indicating the number of lives one had lived, and a wave of unease washed over him.

It was 23.