My eyes opened, and I was instantly awake. The room was almost completely dark, with just the slightest hint of the morning aurora coming in through the window; I could just barely see Sylvie sitting up on her bed. Apparently I’d woken up at the right time.

Sylvie heard me stir, and looked at me. “Good morning,” she said; she was probably smiling, but I couldn’t see her face in the darkness. “How are you feeling?”

I took stock of my body; it ached, but I felt no pain – surprising, since I’d been through another of Verdun’s... Treatments.

“I’m okay. How long was I out?” I asked, sitting up in my bed. Once again, my voice was slightly different than before, and more on the feminine side.

“Not long, you were brought to see the prince yesterday,” Sylvie replied. “I found you lying on your bed when I came back to our room after the day’s work, so probably just part of the afternoon and the whole night.”

A bit more than twelve hours, then, I guessed. Longer than a normal sleep, but much shorter than the over twenty-four hours I’d been laid out after the first time.

“Could you light a candle, please?” I said. “I want to see what has changed this time.”

Sylvie nodded, stood up from her bed, and walked over to the room’s table; she reached a hand towards the tinderbox, then stopped, as if realising something, picked up a small packet wrapped in cloth from the table, and handed it to me. Puzzled, I unwrapped it, and found it contained two slices of slightly stale bread and a piece of cold meat – beef, by the looks of it.

“You must be hungry,” Sylvie said. “We’re not supposed to have food in our rooms, so I sneaked this out of the mess hall last night.”

I hadn’t been paying attention to the signals my stomach was sending me, but upon seeing the food, I realised I was absolutely famished. “Thank you,” I said with gratitude, and took a bite; the bread was dry and tough, and the meat even drier and tougher, but to me, they tasted like heaven. I’d soon finished them, and found myself wishing there were more – but no matter, we would get to breakfast soon enough.

Sylvie, meanwhile, had busied herself with the tinderbox: she’d struck a spark and set fire to a small bundle of dry twine, which she’d used to light a candle in turn.

I stood up from my bed and walked over to the mirror – and in doing so, I realised I’d lost another inch or so of height: not nearly as much as the first time, when I’d shrunk a half-foot, but now I was slightly shorter than Sylvie instead of being the same height as her.

Looking into the mirror yielded more surprises, too: my face was even softer than the previous days, and my hair was longer, past my ears and just barely touching my shoulders. While my parents had died when I was very young, I’d always had portraits of them hanging in my room whenever I went – at the palace when I was young, then at the academy, then in my quarters as a Knight and as commander – to remember them by, so I could tell I was starting to resemble my mother very much.

Once again I moved my hands over my body; my shoulders seemed narrower somehow, and I’d lost more muscle, my arms were noticeably softer, even when I flexed my biceps. My chest had the barest hint of a pair of breast on it – not simply a lack of pectorals like before, but actual breasts, though small – and the curve of my hips was more noticeable. Lastly, I gave my crotch a grope, and what I felt didn’t come as a surprise: as I’d figured, my member had started to shrink, it was smaller than I remembered it being.

Surprisingly, none of the changes in my body distressed me; I simply took stock of everything, with a cold mind and clinical eye. The previous time I’d been surprised by the unexpected changes, but now? I reassured myself I would find a way to reverse it soon. And if not, well, no matter: I could live with it.

Sylvie had been watching me making inventory of my body parts without speaking, but when I turned back to her she gave me a critical stare. “Erica, you should really remember to take off your day clothes before settling down for the night. I mean,” she said, “Look at this.”

She took hold of my skirt, and stretched it with both hands so I could see it clearly: it was noticeably wrinkled. Also, I hadn’t noticed it before, but the maid’s dress I was wearing seemed to be a bit too large for my frame.

I smiled sheepishly. “Sorry, I didn’t have much choice,” I answered. “I basically passed out as soon as I was brought back here.”

Sylvie sighed. “I get it, really, it’s just… We don’t have many spare clothes, but the nobles keep insisting our appearance must always be perfect, or as close to perfect as possible. These wrinkles aren’t going to pass muster if anyone sees you. And besides, we’ll need to adjust your clothes to your new… Shape.”

I nodded. “Is there a spare dress in the trunk?” I asked.

She smiled, and waved her hand. “There is, but don’t bother, we’re not going to be around the palace today; Therese needs us to go to the marketplace, to buy some supplies for the cooks.”

I’d started to run my hands along my dress, trying to smooth it out a bit, but I paused at her words, and looked up at her. “The marketplace? But that’s not part of a maid’s duties, is it?”

“Our duties are whatever they need to be,” Sylvie replied. “If we’re told to tidy a room, we tidy a room; if we’re told to sweep the floors, we sweep the floors; and if we’re told to go buy food, we go buy food.” She cocked her head and looked at me carefully. “Why, do you have a problem with going out to the market?”

I did, actually. It was only a few days before that I’d last been in that area, chatting with my friends at the market stalls, and teaching Fergus, Enrique, and the other kids the art of the sword. They all knew me as Hector the merchant, and I hadn’t changed that much that they wouldn’t instantly recognise me, especially in broad daylight; and then they would ask for an explanation, and I would be required to provide it, thanks to Prince Izaak’s standing order to call myself Erica and out myself as the former Herik von Harburg to whoever asked.

But still, it couldn’t be helped, could it? Going to the market was apparently part of my duties, and I had to do it.

“I do,” I replied honestly, with a half smile. “I’m afraid someone will recognise me; but I gotta do what I gotta do, don’t I?”

“That’s the spirit,” Sylvie nodded, smiling back. “Come on, let’s get to breakfast.”

“Good idea,” I replied. Despite having had something to eat just a few minutes before, I was still quite hungry; I’d skipped both lunch and dinner the previous day – not willingly, but I was feeling the pangs brought out by a prolonged fast.

Like the previous day, Sylvie and I were met by Therese just outside the door to the mess hall, and she did a double-take when she saw me. “What’s wrong?” I asked.

She stared at me for a couple seconds, then shook her head. “I’m sorry, Erica, it’s just… You look so different compared to yesterday. I’m still not used to seeing someone change so much so quickly.”

“Don’t I know it,” I replied. “But that’s magic for you.”

Therese smiled at me. “That was insensitive of me, wasn’t it? I’m sorry,” she apologised. “Come along now, let’s get you some food.”

When we entered the mess hall, all conversation stopped almost immediately; it was as if a switch had been flipped – everyone turned to look at me, even though they couldn’t see me clearly in the flickering candlelight, except for the people seated next to the door. One of those people was Tomàs.

“Good morning, princess,” he said, in a mocking tone. “Did Her Highness sleep well?” Then he paused, and cocked his head to the side, giving me a critical look. “What happened to you? You look different from yesterday.”

The words left my lips even before I realised I was speaking them: “You, on the other hand, are still the same idiotic ass.”

I heard Sylvie stifle a laugh behind me. Tomàs stiffened up; his face became red, and he grit his teeth. There was a low whistle from another table, and a male voice said, “Oooooooooh, she got ya there, friend.”

“Shut up, Milan,” Tomàs snapped at the unseen speaker, without taking his eyes off me. Then he began to stand up. “Listen here, you…”

One of the men who were seated beside him put a hand on his shoulder. “Easy there, Tomàs,” he said. “You know the baron doesn’t like when you start trouble, you’ve already been warned twice.”

Tomàs glared at him, but sat back down. As I made my way past him he hissed, “Pray I don’t catch you on your own, bitch.”

Once Therese, Sylvie and I had sat down at our table, they both burst out laughing. “Gods, that was so satisfying,” Therese said. “It had been years since someone managed to fluster that idiot.”

“What? Why are you laughing?” Cecily asked as she placed our food in front of us and sat down, too.

“Don’t be deceived by her cute face, Erica here has a really sharp tongue,” Sylvie chuckled. “If Tomàs thought she would be an easy target for his bullying, he was sorely mistaken.”

I frowned. I had a cute face? Me? I was not used to being called cute. Handsome, more like; being cute was a new experience for me. Not entirely unpleasant, but… I couldn’t even describe how Sylvie’s words made me feel. I didn’t mind it, though.

“Still, Erica, remember what I said yesterday?” she continued. “Try not to be caught by him alone on your own.”

“I won’t. But I can handle him,” I replied with confidence, shovelling a spoonful of porridge into my mouth.

Cecily shook her head. “It doesn’t matter, it’s best if we avoid in-fighting between us servants. The nobles don’t like it when we get distracted from our duties.”

I paused to consider her words; I had no idea life was so strict for servants. Sometimes I used to envy them: I had to live my life by a very restrictive honour code, while they’d always seemed so… Free. I guess the grass was greener on the other side for all of us.

I nodded. “Alright, I’ll try to avoid him if I can.”

“Good,” Therese said, and she got up from the table. “Cecily and I have to go now, but you two can take it easier; the marketplace doesn’t open until after dawn, so there’s no need to rush out just now.”

“Okay,” I replied. “See you later.”

“You too,” Cecily said, and they were off.

Sylvie and I remained seated for a while longer, chatting among ourselves, until she pointed out that the sky, framed in the mess hall’s east window, was getting lighter; we would have to leave soon if we wanted to avoid the usual crowds at the marketplace. I nodded in response: that was another piece of information which, as a former noble, I had never given any thought about – that it was best to be at the market right after opening, to ensure our purchases were the freshest they could be, and to avoid having to shoulder and shove our way through the throngs of people that frequented the many stalls.

We made our way to the servants’ exit of the palace, a side door out of the way; I took a deep breath before setting foot past the threshold – it would be my first time outside since my change. Sylvie was patient, though, and gave me all the time I needed.

As I stepped out, I heard a familiar voice behind me: “Good morning, ladies. Heading out?”

I turned around; Andrej was standing beside the door, with Matthias, who was likely now second-in-command of the Knights, on the other side.

“Good morning, commander,” Sylvie replied, curtsying – after a moment’s hesitation, I mimicked her gesture. “We are, to the marketplace. How about you?”

“Please, no formalities,” Andrej said, and we straightened back up. “Guard duty. Every Knight has to do a rotation once in a while, even officers.”

He turned his gaze to me; his eyes softened. “How are you doing, Erica?” he asked.

“Thank you for your concern, commander,” I answered. “I’m okay.”

Andrej was silent for a while before speaking again, and when he did his voice was kind and full of worry. “Are you really?”

I hesitated. What should I say to him? What should I tell him? That I disliked being humiliated in such a manner? Or should I just gloss over everything, and pretend I was alright? True, I didn’t mind my change as much as I first thought I would, but being framed for a crime I didn’t commit? Being punished because of Prince Izaak’s unwarranted paranoia? Being forced to out myself to everyone? Those were entirely different matters. Perhaps Andrej would understand, maybe he could make Izaak see reason, maybe…

No. If I tried to win Andrej over to my side, chances are the Prince Regent would focus his ires on him, too, and I couldn’t do that to him. Not to Andrej, not to my oldest friend and comrade-in-arms.

“I am,” I said.

Andrej kept looking at me for a few seconds more, then he hesitantly nodded. “Alright. It’s just that you looked worried.”

“She’s worried someone from the marketplace will recognise her when we get there,” Sylvie explained.

Andrej thought for a while, then nodded. “If that’s all, then I think I have the solution. Wait here.”

He disappeared inside the door, but was back in less than five minutes; still, Sylvie was getting impatient – we were planning to get to the market early to avoid the crowds, and it was getting late.

When Andrej emerged again, he handed me a bundle of cloth. “Here,” he said. “For you.”

I unfurled the piece of clothing, and found myself looking at a simple wool cloak; my cloak, in fact – the same one I’d used just a few days before while going out on the town on my afternoon off. I looked up at Andrej, puzzled.

“It was the previous commander’s, he left it in his room,” Andrej said, smiling warmly. “He isn’t using it any more, so it’s yours now.” He winked at me.

I returned the smile. “Thank you, commander,” I said, and briefly dipped into a curtsy. I put my cloak on, fastening it around my neck and pulling the hood up; the previous time I’d used it it came down to my knees, but now it almost touched the ground, and it was a bit too roomy for my new frame, but I didn’t mind: it was a nice reminder of my past life.

“I apologise, commander, but we have to go now, or we’ll be late,” Sylvie said.

Andrej nodded. “Of course. Off you go then. See you, Sylvie. See you, Erica.”

I nodded back, and we were off.

Sylvie and I were quiet in the half hour it took for us to get to the market, each lost in their own thoughts. On my part, I was thinking about what happened over the previous few days, and how glad I was that Andrej was still (seemingly) on my side, despite Izaak’s scheming. We would have to be careful, though – I didn’t want him to fall afoul of the Prince Regent if I could help it.

When we arrived at the marketplace, we noticed it was already quite busy: apparently we were too late to avoid the morning rush. Sylvie clicked her tongue in disappointment, and she handed me a list and a purse, which I tied to my belt. “It’ll be faster if we split up,” she said. “You handle this stuff, I’ll think about everything else.”

I nodded in acknowledgement, and watched her as she disappeared through the crowd.

I started towards the market stalls, but then I paused, my attention caught by the large, wide open gate set into the city walls, which led to the countryside. A few guards were standing beside it, but they weren’t checking anyone crossing the threshold, either in or out – and why would they? The Kingdom of Harburg wasn’t currently at war with anyone, no fugitives were on the lam that I knew of, so there was no reason to bother stopping the merchants and common folk coming and going to check their papers and what they were carrying.

And there was that thought again: maybe I could just leave?

Just exit the city, walk for a while, perhaps hitch a ride on a wagon. Go somewhere else, either in the kingdom or abroad, and start anew, forgetting about Prince Izaak, Verdun, the Royal Knights, about everything and everyone. It was very tempting.

But no. I had sworn an oath: to obey orders, and to protect the Crown of Harburg – which I’d always taken to mean the kingdom itself, as well as its rulers. And right now, with everything that was happening, my country was in dire need of protecting; though, admittedly, I had no idea how I could even begin to uphold my oath. But I had to try, at least.

I sighed, and started towards the stalls again, unfolding the list Sylvie had given me. First were…

Fruit and vegetables.

Which meant I would have to interact with Adrian. One of the people who knew me best (though he knew me as “Hector”) from the many times I frequented the marketplace.

I gulped. I wasn’t looking forward to it; but it couldn’t be helped, could it?

I made sure the hood of my cloak was pulled up, hiding my face as best as it could, and approached Adrian’s stall. Here goes nothing. Hopefully my voice wouldn’t give me away.

“Good morning,” I said.

“Good morning!” Adrian answered, turning to face me. “What can I…”

He drifted off, frowning, as he looked at me. He studied me for a few seconds, then asked: “You a maid at the palace, girl?”

I nodded.

Another pause. “You new?”

I nodded again.

“Alright, let me give you a piece of advice,” Adrian said, leaning forward; I leaned in too, to listen more carefully.

“Watch yourself,” he whispered. “Times being what they are, there are many people who don’t take kindly to rich folks from the palace coming down here to buy all our food.”

I looked at him for a beat, and then asked, “Does that include you, too?”

“To be honest? It does,” he replied. “But I’m a merchant, first and foremost. So…” He straightened back up, and raised his voice again. “What can I get ya?”

Grateful I wouldn’t have to argue with him, I took a look at the list, and then replied, “Three heads of lettuce, four pounds of onions, a dozen apples, five turnips, and half a pound of garlic.”

“Coming right up!” Adrian said, and turned away to gather what I’d ordered.

As I was waiting I let my gaze pass over the crowd. What wouldn’t I give to just be one of them, to not have to worry about all this… Complicated stuff.

My thoughts had begun to wander, but they were brusquely brought back to the present by a tug I felt near my belt.

Which I knew from experience could only mean one thing.

Instinctively my hand snaked out and closed like a vice over the wrist of the pick-pocket who’d just tried to relieve me of my purse. I pulled back hard on the arm, throwing them off balance, and the purse fell to the ground, as did the would-be thief; I squeezed and twisted with my hand in a submission grip, until I was rewarded with a stifled cry of pain.

“That’s not yours, kid,” I said.

“Please, kind lady!” the boy – for it was a boy who’d tried to steal from me – cried out. “I didn’t mean anything by it! Don’t tell the guards, I won’t do it again! I promise!”

He was face down on the ground, his arm – wrist still firmly in my grip – extended and flexed painfully behind him. His voice seemed familiar, though.

“You should at least apologise,” I said.

“Yes! Yes!” he replied. “I apologise! I’m sorry!”

“Good,” I said, releasing him; the boy raised himself to his knees, and massaged his wrist, then turned towards me as I bent over to pick up my purse. “Now, next time you should--” I continued, straightening up, but stopped as I looked into his face: he was staring at me, wide-eyed, and I belatedly realised that in the scuffle the hood of my cloak had dropped to my shoulders, exposing my face.

“…Teach?” Enrique said.

I quickly looked around the market: an attempted pick-pocketing was a common enough occurrence that most people weren’t paying attention to the commotion we’d made, but some were looking at us in curiosity – especially Adrian, whose eyes were as big as saucers as he took in my appearance.

“Hector?” he asked, in a disbelieving tone of voice.

Well, shit.