I was marched by the Palace Guard through many corridors, which were straight at first but then became twisting and turning; we’d entered the old wing of the royal palace. The building had been erected on the ruins of a castle that had been already ancient by the time of King Kendrik the First, three centuries before, and which had burned to the ground during the reign of Izaak the Third; that castle, in turn, had been built up from an existing fortification, dating back to the time of the Old Empire. In this part of the palace, many walls were still carved from the very stone of the low hill it laid on; some even had ancient hieroglyphs – mysterious drawings and words of power – chiselled into them, which had always seemed familiar to me, though I couldn’t quite place where I’d seen them before.

The thought of how many centuries, how many people, these halls had seen go by had always unsettled me; I’d always avoided coming here, or even passing through, if I could help it. I’d been in the old wing maybe four or five times since I’d joined the Royal Knights, and it’d always been under Prince Izaak’s orders when he needed something from Verdun.

Again I briefly entertained the thought of just running away, of escaping the predicament I was in and simply disappear, to start a new life somewhere else. I gave a glance to the Palace Guards who were escorting me: there were a half-dozen of them, wearing breastplates and armed with swords and daggers, while I was wearing a simple tunic and trousers and was unarmed… But I could’ve taken them. I knew what their skills were like and they couldn’t hold a candle to a fully trained Royal Knight.

But I was still sworn to obedience by my oath. Even though I’d spoken the words before King Dominik, his authority had been exerted through Prince Izaak when the prince had ordered me to go before Verdun for… Punishment, whatever that meant. All my adult life, I’d abided by that code, that promise, that oath, and I wasn’t about to desert it now.

After walking for several minutes through claustrophobic, close-in hallways, we reached Verdun’s lab; one of the guards opened the door and I was roughly pushed in, with three of the guards following me inside while the others waited outside. The door slammed closed behind us.

The laboratory was… A cave. An ample and spacious natural cavern inside the limestone of the hill the palace was built on, which had been converted into a chamber filled with bookcases, racks of glass bottles and casks containing mysterious liquids, and crates upon crates of reagents – herbs, plants, pieces of animals, minerals, and several things I didn’t recognise. The room seemed completely dark at first, but after a few moments my eyes got used to the gloom, and I could see that it was illuminated by a faint, azure glow, seemingly coming from the ceiling; weirdly, that few light was still enough for me to fully distinguish all details.

“Ah, Commander, I’ve been expecting you,” Verdun said, rising from a table near the wall of the cave. He paused, and stroked his chin, caressing the short beard-and moustache that framed his mouth. “But you’re not the commander any more, are you now?”

I blinked. “How do you know that? The sentence has been handed down less than an hour ago, and we came here directly. There is no way you could’ve been informed already.”

He smirked. “That’s for me to know, and for you to find out,” he replied mockingly.

I glared at him. “I have little patience for your riddles, Verdun. And for your insolence, besides. You know I’ve always disliked you, and if I hadn’t been ordered here by Prince Izaak I would’ve gladly done without seeing you for a long time still.”

“My, my, such a sharp tongue, my friend,” he said, shaking his head, which made his long, black braid – which reached almost to his feet – shake too. Long hair was common to all wizards: it was said that the longer the hair, the more powerful the wizard, though it was a mystery whether the hair itself was the source of their powers, or if it grew along with their magical prowess, or if it was simply their preferred style.

I kept glaring. “We are not friends.”

“Ah, yes, of course,” he sighed. “You know, maybe in a different time, in different circumstances, if you’d been more… Reasonable, you could have been of use to me. As something more than a test subject, I mean.”

“Test subject?”

“Why, it’s your punishment! Didn’t the Prince Regent tell you? You are to help me with my magical experiments… Well, experiment. Singular. There is something I think I have finally perfected, and I’m just dying to try out.”

He was smiling widely, almost gleefully; I would’ve gladly jumped forward and clocked him in the face, just to wipe that grin off of it.

“Whatever it is, let’s get it over with,” I said.

He kept smiling, like a cat bearing down on a mouse. It was unnerving, especially considering he was much shorter than I was – he barely came up to my chest – and he was lanky, with no muscle definition to speak of. I could’ve easily snapped all of his bones with my bare hands, but somehow, he was intimidating.

“What’s the rush?” he asked. “We’re here, we’re having a nice chat, why don’t we sit down and have a nice cup of thèe?”

I cocked my head to the side. “Thèe?”

“Oh, it’s a peculiar concoction, made from hot water and the leaves of a plant that grows in a country far away from here. Very tasty, very rare, and very expensive. Want some?” he said, pouring something from a carafe into a cup.

“I’m fine, thank you,” I replied evenly.

“Suit yourself,” he shrugged. He drained the cup in a single gulp, and set it back down on the table. “Now, shall we get started?”

No matter how much I wanted to avoid it, there was no way out without breaking my oath. “Fine,” I answered.

“Good, very good,” Verdun said. He moved quickly, with birdlike movements, darting around his laboratory, and gathering several flasks filled with liquids of various colours; he poured each of them into a silver goblet, which was decorated with rubies and sapphires, and handed the goblet to me. “Drink this.”

I took the goblet from him and smelled it; the liquid was bright pink and had a foul stench, almost like rotting vegetables. “What’s in this?” I asked.

“Oh, a little bit of this, a little bit of that. And of course a little bit of the spark, of magic. It’s all very complicated, I doubt you’d understand even if I explained it.”

I looked at him for a second but I didn’t acknowledge the implied insult, then I put the goblet to my lips and drank deeply.

If the smell had been foul, the taste was even worse. It took all my willpower to finish drinking the liquid, and when I did I gagged.

“Excellent!” Verdun said. Without giving me time to recover he took the goblet from me, then grabbed me by the hand and pulled me to the middle of the cave, which was wide open, with no obstruction in the way. “Step carefully here, I’ve used a special ink but I’m afraid you could still erase some of the marks. That would be… Unfortunate. For you. Magical energies have to flow just right, you see, or there could be unforseen consequences.”

I looked down, and saw that the floor was lined with runes and glyphs, drawn in dark blue on dark grey stone. They were not unlike the hieroglyphs which had been carved by ancient peoples into the stone walls of the old wing of the palace; and although they were just barely noticeable in the gloom, they almost seemed to shine if I looked at them out of the corner of my eye.

Verdun pushed me to a specific spot, in the middle of several concentric circles of glyphs, and then retreated back to the side of the chamber.

“Very well, let’s begin,” he nodded. “The elixir you drank should speed up the process, but you should hold still: if I don’t do this right, it’s going to hurt a little bit.”

Hurt? What? “And if you do it right?”

Verdun was mumbling something in a language I couldn’t understand, looking down at his hands while making complicated gestures with his fingers and his palms; then he looked up, and he had an evil smirk on his face.

“Then it’s going to hurt a lot.”

Before I could react to his words he crouched to the floor and slammed his palms down on it; the ink around his hands began to shine, turning from dark blue to azure to cyan to white, and the change spread quickly, like a wave, until all the runes that had been drawn on the floor were so blindingly bright I couldn’t look directly at them, and I had to shield my eyes with my hand.

Then I began to feel the burning. It started in my stomach, but rapidly spread to my chest and my belly, before crawling down to my toes and climbing up to my hands, until I could feel it searing through my eyes; I felt as if every single cell of my body was on fire, it was the worst pain I’d ever felt in my life.

My muscles tightened and seized up, and I started screaming. The light became brighter, and the pain increased in intensity; my screams became louder and louder, until suddenly the light disappeared. I collapsed to the floor, in a half-faint.

Very distantly, I heard Verdun talk to the guards. “I’m done for now; take her away, and summon Healer Gallowan.”

…Her?

I didn’t have time to wonder about his choice of words, however, because my eyes rolled into the back of my head, and I passed out.

 

 

I felt like I was floating through a formless void; I could see nothing, hear nothing, taste and smell nothing. My body ached, but at the same time it felt weird, almost as if it wasn’t my body but rather someone else’s.

After a time that felt like an eternity, I floated back to consciousness. My eyelids opened just a crack, and my eyes were stabbed by the sudden inrush of daylight; they hurt, too.

Slowly the world came back into focus, and I found myself staring at an unfamiliar ceiling: vaulted stone blocks, smooth but blackened by decades of candles and torches burning beneath them, hung above me. The late afternoon sun was visible, framed in a window I could see to my right out of the corner of my eye.

I tried to turn my neck to explore my surroundings further, but a stabbing pain stopped me and made me grunt. That attracted someone’s attention, because I heard a chair being pushed back, and a girl crouched next to my bed; she smiled at me kindly, while she dabbed the sweat from my brow with a piece of cloth.

“Hey there. How are you feeling?” she asked.

I knew her voice. I knew her face.

“…Sylvie?” I croaked out of my parched throat. She nodded.

“What… Where am I?” I asked. My voice sounded weird, but I put that out of my mind for the time being – it would likely clear up once I’d had some water to drink.

“The maids’ quarters,” she replied. “The guards brought you here yesterday morning, as we were getting ready for the day’s work.”

I frowned. “The maids’ quarters? Why?”

Sylvie hesitated. “I… They said you’d been found guilty of treason, and stripped of your status as a noble as a result. And also…”

She paused, as if she was searching for words to say something.

“And also that you’ve been put through a change by Master Verdun, as punishment for your treachery. We’ve been ordered to treat you like one of us from now on. Like a maid.”

What?

My mind had started to clear by then; my body didn’t ache as much any more. “This is ridiculous,” I said. “I am not a woman, how can I be a maid?”

Again, she hesitated. “Perhaps… Perhaps it’s best if I show you,” she answered. “Can you stand up?”

I hesitantly nodded, and helped by Sylvie I lifted myself up, first to a seated position on the bed, and then, slowly, to my feet.

“Okay,” she said. “What do you see?”

I looked at her in confusion. What did she mean by that? “I see you.”

“Right,” she nodded. “What am I looking at? Where am I looking?”

“You’re looking me in the eyes, of course,” I answered. “And you’re…”

I stopped. I’d suddenly realised something.

She wasn’t looking up, but straight ahead of her.

The last time I’d seen her, when we’d ran into each other – literally – in the corridors near the Royal Knights’ quarters, she was shorter than I was. Now we were the same height.

“But…” I began to say, but couldn’t find any more words.

Sylvie nodded again, slowly and carefully; then she took my arm and guided me across the room, until I was standing next to the door, looking into a mirror. My reflection startled me: my face was softer than I remembered, though I was still recognisably me, and my hair, which had been close-cropped ever since I’d started at the academy, ten years earlier, was now hanging down just past my ears.

I started breathing faster. I ran my hands over my body, taking stock of everything – and just then noticing I was wearing what looked like a woman’s nightshirt. My muscles were still there – mostly, they’d plainly decreased in size; there was a curve to my hips that hadn’t been there before, and my chest had a sort of flabbiness to it: I didn’t have breasts, but I didn’t have toned pectorals any more.

I suddenly felt faint, and my legs buckled from under me; Sylvie quickly guided me to the chair she’d gotten up from a few minutes earlier and had me sit down.

So that was what Verdun had done. He’d turned me into a woman; partially, at least.

I suddenly realised something, and I groped between my legs: my member was still there, apparently unchanged. That, at least, was something Verdun hadn't been able to modify.

Then I remembered Verdun’s words, as I was fainting: I’m done for now.

Apparently there was more to come.

“Sylvie…” I began to say, but was interrupted by a heavy knocking at the door of the room.

Sylvie frowned, walked to the door and opened it; Andrej, along with another Royal Knight I didn’t recognise, was standing behind it.

“Is she awake?” he asked; then his eyes darted to me, just briefly, before coming to rest on Sylvie once again.

“She is,” she replied. “But she’s in no condition to--”

“I have been ordered by the Prince Regent to bring her to the throne room as soon as she woke up,” Andrej interrupted her. “I cannot delay much longer, Sylvie.”

Sylvie looked at him for a few seconds, then said, “Give us a few minutes, I’ll make her presentable.”

Andrej turned her gaze from her to me; he regarded me for a moment, and his stern expression softened a bit. He nodded, and Sylvie shut the door, then walked back to me.

“Come on, up and at ‘em. We have to hurry,” she said.

I got to my feet. “Sylvie, what’s happening?”

“Prince Izaak wants to see you, he’s been very insistent about it all day,” she answered, opening a trunk at the foot of the bed I’d woken in and starting to root into it. “You need to get dressed. Here, put this on.” She handed me a dress – the same kind of maid’s dress she was wearing, only this one was clearly larger, likely in my size.

“You’re joking. I’m not going to—” I began, but she cut me off.

“Listen,” she said, grabbing my hands. “You know how the Prince Regent is. After what he’s done to you, do you really want to risk displeasing him?”

“…Fine,” I replied. “How do I put this thing on?”

“It’s designed to be simple,” Sylvie said. “Arms up.”

I lifted my arms up straight above my head, and with a deft move she stripped the nightdress off of me; I realised I was naked underneath it, and I reflexively moved my hands to try and cover my crotch.

“No time for that,” she chided me. “Underclothes. Put these on,” she told me, handing me two small strips of cloth. One was clearly meant to be slipped up my legs to my crotch, and I did so; it was a bit small, but it fit. The other one though…

“That goes over your chest,” Sylvie said. “I’ll tie it for you this time, but you’ll need to learn to do it by yourself.”

I nodded, and let her put the piece of clothing over my chest and tie it behind my back.

“Okay, hands up again.”

I complied, and she slipped the maid’s dress over my head.

“Now you just tighten it at the waist with this belt,” she said, handing it to me, “And you’re set.”

I nodded, and tied the belt – which was cloth, I noted: I’d been used to leather belts – tight and secure.

Sylvie gave me a once-over, had me slip into a pair of low shoes, then straightened my hair a bit with her hands, and nodded. “She’s ready,” she told Andrej, opening the door again.

Andrej nodded, then looked directly at me; I couldn’t even begin to decipher his expression. Shame? Pity? Contempt? A combination of all of them?

“Go back to your quarters,” he told the other Royal Knight who was with him. “I’ll escort her to the Prince Regent. You,” he pointed at me, “Come with me.”

I nodded, and followed him down the corridor, towards the throne room. I trailed behind him for a few minutes; he didn’t turn around, not even once, to make sure I was still following him. I thought I should say something.

“My friend…” I began.

“Quiet,” he said curtly.

I was startled by his response. I was expecting him to be more… Understanding.

“But—” I said, but he cut me off again.

“Do not speak.” Then he lowered his voice to barely above a whisper; I could just barely make out his words: “You know Prince Izaak has eyes and ears everywhere in the palace. We cannot be seen or heard talking to each other alone, or he’ll think we’re conspiring against him.”

I understood what he meant. He was worried… Worried that I would be punished further? Or worried that he would be punished, too? I could not tell. Still, there was one thing I had to know.

“Prince Izaak said Aleix has been executed. Is it true?” I asked.

Andrej didn’t speak for a long while until, when I thought he would not answer, he said: “It is.”

“I see,” I whispered.

I stayed silent the rest of the way.

Before long we reached the throne room; after announcing me and himself to the Palace Guards who were stationed outside – and who gave me a look of contempt – we entered the hall.

“My lord,” Andrej said, dropping to his knee. I was unsure what I should do, so I also kneeled.

“Thank you, commander,” Prince Izaak said. “You may leave us.”

“By your command,” Andrej answered; he got to his feet and left the room.

Commander. Apparently Andrej’d been promoted to the spot I’d left vacant.

“And you, you may rise – though we will need to teach you proper manners: women don’t kneel, they curtsy.”

I bristled at Izaak’s words, but I got to my feet, and looked at him; he was sitting slovenly on the throne, Verdun standing by his side.

“Hmm, yes, I can see the change, slight as it is,” Izaak said. “You did well, Verdun.”

“Thank you, my lord,” the wizard replied. I glared daggers at him, and the prince noticed.

“It seems you have something you want to say,” he drawled. “Speak.”

“My lord, I do not understand why I’m being punished in such a way; I have been nothing but your loyal servant. The thought of betrayal never--”

“Lies,” the prince said. “I know that you were plotting to overthrow me, to replace me as my father’s heir. Either through assassination, or otherwise.” He looked straight at me. “But now, now that you’re a commoner, you’re no longer able to inherit the throne,” the prince continued. “And my succession is secure.”

My eyes narrowed. So that was it. In his blind ambition, and probably spurred on by Verdun and the members of the council of nobles, Izaak had judged me by his own standard: he thought I’d been a duplicitous liar, out to get him, to eliminate him for my own advantage. He’d completely failed to realise that I’d always been loyal to him and faithful to my oath as a knight.

“Oh, but I forget!” Prince Izaak exclaimed. “We need a new name for you! After all, Herik is a royal name, which was borne by kings; and a man’s name, at that. You simply cannot be allowed to keep it.”

He put his finger to his chin. “Let’s see… We shall call you… Erica. Yes, I think that’s fitting.” He paused. “No family name or title, of course; commoners do not have those.”

The prince clapped his hands. “Perfect! It is my command that henceforth, you shall only refer to yourself as Erica, and that everyone will call you by that name. Further,” he continued, and I could hear a tinge of cruelty slip into his voice, “If anyone asks, you will have to tell you who you were before, and why you’ve… Changed.”

I stared at him. “My lord--” I began.

“You are still bound by your oath of obedience, until your liege releases you. Do not forget that.”

I grit my teeth, but bowed my head to look at the floor. “I won’t, my lord,” I replied.

“Good.”

He got up from the throne and walked the distance that separated us. He put his hand under my chin and lifted my head, so he could gaze into my eyes.

“Now, tell me,” he said, his voice low and smooth. “Who are you? Speak your name.”

I briefly hesitated, then took a deep breath.

“Erica. I am Erica.”

And, Gods help me, Erica I was; at least until I managed to find a way to sever the oath that bound me to him.