Nine: The Ball
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Content warning: violence and physical abuse, public nudity, public humiliation.

Over the next week and a half, I fell into a routine: I would work in the morning and afternoon, then just before dinner I would be subjected to one of Verdun’s treatments, and afterwards I would eat with my friends and go to bed – I’d learned to withstand the pain brought upon me by the change, so while my encounters with the wizard left me exhausted, I found I didn’t have to sleep it off right away: I could have dinner, and chat with my friends, before having to rest.

Still, the changes kept mounting up. I hadn’t lost any more height, it looked like I’d stabilised at being just slightly shorter than Sylvie, but the curvyness of my body became more and more pronounced, as did the softness of my face; my hips and chest kept growing – while at first my brassiere was just an affectation, something I wore only to complete the look (even though most people never saw it), soon I found myself having to wear it, to keep my chest from bouncing all over the place during the day. My hair kept becoming longer, too: after three days I had to ask Sylvie to show me how to tie it into a bun, just to keep it out of my face while I was working; it weirded me out a bit, since I’d never had that problem in my life.

And my member kept shrinking. After a week it had become so short that it barely showed through my bush when I was naked, and was completely invisible when I wore my underwear. But then it stabilised: instead of it disappearing completely, I started to feel some weird movements in my lower belly; I wondered what those meant.

All my new friends did their best to keep on top of the changes, especially Sylvie: every evening she would help me take stock of my body, to find what had changed since the previous day as a result of Verdun’s ministrations. I was grateful for her help, I don’t know what I would have done had I not had someone there to reassure me everything would be alright. However, even though I didn’t mind my new body (as I’d told Verdun), I found it increasingly difficult to hold on to my identity. All of my life I’d been a boy, a man, a Knight, but now? Who was I? I often found myself wondering.

The day after I’d sworn I would kill the wizard brought a surprise, too: in the morning, when all the servants had been assembled for breakfast, Therese announced that the Prince Regent had decided to throw a grand ball to celebrate the tricentennial of the founding of the Kingdom of Harburg. It would take place in the evening, two days before Founding Day, and many important people – most nobles and some foreign dignitaries – would be in attendance. It was to be an occasion to show to the whole region the wealth and magnificence of the kingdom, and as such it had to be prepared carefully; and of course, it fell to us servants to do it.

Therefore, after Therese’s announcement, we suddenly found that our workload had been nearly doubled: we had to work hard to prepare the royal palace’s ballroom for the occasion, to decorate it, hanging tapestries, laying down carpets, placing tables and chairs, and so on – but we also couldn’t neglect our usual duties, or else we would find ourselves being punished for not doing our jobs. I found it irritating: all the prince had to do was sit on his throne, wave his hand, and declare that he would have a party, and then he didn’t have to worry at all how it all would be done. Exactly like all other things servants did all over the palace: beds were made, floors swept, tables cleaned, laundry washed, everything was done, as if by magic, without nobles even wondering how. It was like Sylvie had told me the first day we’d worked together: no one notices a maid – but they sure do notice her absence by all the tiny things that are suddenly out of place.

The first six days since the announcement passed without issue; on the seventh day – three days before the ball was to be held – however, I was sent to the marketplace once more, to buy some cloth to decorate the ballroom with, and found that something had happened: the mood was noticeably different, everyone was sullen, there wasn’t as much conversation going on, and when I stopped by Adrian’s stall to say hi to him I saw that it was mostly empty, except for a few cabbages. Which was weird, Adrian had always taken pride in keeping his stall well stocked, even with the near-famine that was currently hanging over the kingdom.

“Adrian, what happened here?” I asked, approaching him.

He turned to me and stared at me for a few moments, then his eyes lit up in recognition. “Erica! It’s you, right?” he said. When I nodded, he continued: “Gods, you look so different. And it hasn’t even been two weeks since last time.”

“I know,” I replied. “Verdun.”

“Right,” Adrian said grimly, and spat to the ground. “Did you know you’re becoming famous?”

I blinked at him. “Famous?”

“Yeah, word of what that wizard did to you at the prince’s behest has started spreading; you’re the talk of town lately.”

I didn’t know how to feel about that.

“But never mind that,” Adrian continued. “How are you doing?”

“I’m fine, but what happened?” I repeated. “Where is all your produce? Your fruit, your vegetables?”

He sighed and shook his head. “The palace guards came by, with a couple of carts filled with cabbages. From the royal fields, they said; the Prince Regent was giving them to us… In exchange for everything else I had. And not just me, every other vegetable peddler in the market, too.”

“I take it it wasn’t an offer,” I said.

“No, it wasn’t,” Adrian replied. “At least not one I could refuse. You have any idea what this is about?”

It was my turn to sigh and nod. “Yes, I do. Prince Izaak is having a grand ball soon, with many important guests, and I guess he needed the vegetables so the royal kitchens could make the food.”

Adrian stared at me for a few moments, then swore. Loudly, prolongedly, and creatively: some of the words he used I’d never even heard before, and several people turned to look at us, wondering what was up.

“Bloody hell,” he said after he’d calmed down a bit. “The people are hungry, and he goes and throws a party, and steals our food to give it to his guests, even! Gods, Ariel was right, wasn’t she? Izaak really is a good-for-nothing slimy turd,” he said.

Despite everything, I couldn’t help but smirk. “You got that right,” I replied. “Listen, Adrian, if there’s anything I can do…” I began, but he waved his hand dismissively.

“Don’t, Erica. You have your own stuff to worry about; we’ll manage.”

I nodded. “Still, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he said. “None of this is your fault.”

Was it? I kept thinking about Adrian’s words after I’d said goodbye to him, even as I made my way to Emma’s stall and bought the fabric I needed from her, chatting with her a bit; and even after that, when I returned to the royal palace. Was it not my fault? Maybe if I’d noticed the path Izaak was heading down earlier, maybe if I’d done something about it, if I’d counselled him… Maybe all of this could have been avoided.

Or maybe not. Maybe this was just how Izaak was, and nothing I could possibly have done could have made a difference.

Over the next few days, the other servants and I finished preparing the ballroom, and it was a sight to behold: all the walls were draped with newly made and embroidered tapestries, which sported the Kingdom of Harburg’s coat of arms, two swords crossed over a castle; the carpets that covered the flagstones of the floor were brand new, too, and we’d worked day and night to be able to finish everything in time for the ball. We were proud to have managed that, but I still couldn’t shake the feeling I always had, in the back of my mind: if all the money the renovations had cost had been put towards buying food for the common people, there wouldn’t be anyone in the kingdom going to sleep hungry for several weeks.

A couple times I found myself working side-by-side with Tomàs; our truce had developed into a strange friendship, and he took every chance to chat me up, and to warn me: according to him, the Prince Regent was increasingly angry that my name was becoming well-known among the common people. It was clear to me that Izaak had miscalculated: through the punishment he’d given me, he’d meant to humiliate and isolate me, but neither was becoming true – being turned into a woman was no humiliation for me, unexpectedly, and being forced to live as a servant had allowed me to make friends with many people I would never even have spoken to had I still been a noble.

The afternoon of the day of the ball, we all spent lots of time getting ready; we’d been told that we would also need to attend, and act as butlers, waiters, and waitresses – on top of our usual duties, of course. Because of that, we’d been given special clothes, which were much more presentable that what we usually wore. I thought the clothes were beautiful: over the previous weeks, since I’d first been changed, I’d learned to appreciate making myself look nice, so I enjoyed having something that could be used for that purpose.

The dresses the other maids and I would have to wear, however, had a problem: the cloth was very light, and they were sleeveless to boot. The season was advancing, it was late summer, and the evenings were getting chilly; I was sure we would find ourselves shivering before the night was over. But it couldn’t be helped, that was what we were ordered to wear.

We were waiting in the ballroom when the guests made their entrance. First were the nobles: Prince Regent Izaak’s inner circle, and some others – including Baron Eigeis, who gave me a withering stare as he entered, but then proceeded to avoid me for the rest of the night (likely to avoid incurring in the prince’s ires). Then came the foreign dignitaries: ambassadors from every country that bordered the kingdom and beyond, and even the Crown Prince of Irbia, a kingdom which laid to the north of Harburg, on the other side of the Shield Mountains. This was probably something like an olive branch on Irbia’s part, since relationships between them and us had been tense for a while now, even though we weren’t openly fighting just yet.

Last to enter was the Prince Regent himself, who was wearing a flowing red robe, trimmed in ermine fur; he was flanked by Andrej, dressed in his gilded breastplate, his sword and a dagger fastened to his side. That wasn’t unusual, the Commander of the Royal Knights usually acted as a bodyguard for the king – or for whoever was standing in for the king – at times like these; I’d done it myself on previous occasions, both for King Dominik and for Prince Izaak. Andrej and I exchanged glances, but we didn’t speak to each other: it wouldn’t have been proper for us to be seen talking in this instance, the gap in social rank was simply too wide.

Likewise, I took note of one thing: that evening the only commoners in the ballroom were us servants; all the guests were either nobles or diplomats from abroad, despite there being several important people in the kingdom who didn’t hold an aristocratic title – all the mayors of the major cities, for one. It was likely a deliberate snub, a way for Izaak to say: these are the only people who truly matter in Harburg.

After Izaak made his appearance the musicians started playing, and the ball was underway. It was scheduled to last from eight in the evening to midnight, four full hours, so the other servants and I would have to save our energy unless we wanted to be exhausted by the time the party was over.

For the first couple hours the evening went on uneventfully: the guests mingled and talked among themselves, and we wandered around, our trays laden with refreshments, stopping occasionally to let someone grab a glass or a piece of food from us. I did get some looks, however: I’m sure quite a few people had recognised me, since while my face was quite different from how it was I wasn’t completely unrecognisable, and the news of my change had by then become public knowledge.

Then, just as I was offering a tartine to the silvannan ambassador, I heard the Prince Regent’s voice cut through the noise.

“Erica!”

The room fell silent, the music stopped, and I turned around to look at Prince Izaak. Most of the guests were looking at him too, but some were staring at me, as were almost all of the servants; I saw fear – for me – in their eyes, being deliberately called out by the prince like that could mean nothing good.

“Come here!” the prince commanded.

Keeping my back straight, I walked towards him with measured, deliberate steps; the crowd parted in front of me to let me through. The whole ballroom’s eyes were on me now.

The prince was standing beside the ambassador from Lower Aswania, a neighbouring country and staunch ally of our kingdom – one of the few we had left. On my way I handed the tray I was holding to Sylvie, who’d appeared from the crowd to take it from me, and when I reached the pair I curtsied as I’d been taught, keeping my eyes low to the ground.

“What do you think?” Izaak asked.

“I see. So this is what remains of Commander Herik,” the ambassador said.

“It’s Erica now,” the prince replied, almost gleefully. “Isn’t she magnificent? Master Verdun, my court wizard, did a spectacular job on her.”

“I can see that,” the ambassador continued, nodding his head in appreciation. “And is she… Complete?”

“Not quite yet,” Prince Izaak said. “But perhaps it’s better if I show you directly. Commander Andrej!”

Andrej, who had been standing just behind the two, stepped up to the Prince’s side. “My lord,” he said.

“Remove her clothes.”

Andrej hesitated. “My lord?” he asked.

I glanced upwards and saw a conflicted expression on Andrej’s face. My former second-in-command, my comrade-in-arms, my oldest friend; this was too much for him. He was having doubts. He was about to talk back.

Don’t do it, Andrej, I thought. Don’t object. You would only needlessly get Izaak angry at you.

“Remove her clothes,” the prince repeated.

“My lord--”

“Your liege gave you a direct order, Commander,” I said, keeping my voice calm and steady. “Carry it out.”

Suddenly I found myself on the floor, a stinging pain in my cheek; I realised I’d been slapped. Hard.

“I did not give you leave to speak!” the prince shouted, anger in his voice. “Next time I’ll have your tongue cut out. Now, on your feet.”

Helping myself with my hands I climbed back to a standing position and remained there, my arms straight down my sides, head low, looking at the floor.

“Remove her clothes, Commander Andrej,” the prince ordered, and his tone of voice clearly signalled that he would not tolerate any objection.

“By your command,” Andrej said. His hesitation was still present, but barely there; I doubt anyone but me noticed, but I’d known him for years – he really didn’t want to do this. Still, he drew a dagger from the belt at his waist, and with two swift cuts severed the shoulders of my dress, which fell to the ground around my feet.

“Her underclothes, too,” the prince said.

Again, Andrej hesitated. I glanced upwards again and caught his eyes; we looked at each other for a brief moment, and I gave him a small nod – barely noticeable, likely invisible to anyone except us: as part of our training as Royal Knights, years before, we’d been taught to communicate with the tiniest of gestures, to avoid giving away anything to the enemy. Andrej nodded back in acknowledgement, but I could see guilt and regret for what he was doing – for what he was about to do – painted across his face.

With quick and efficient moves he cut off my underwear, which fell to the ground in tatters.

The ambassador stepped forward, extended his hand, and gave one of my breasts an experimental poke.

“Amazing,” he said. Then he pushed the breast upwards and let it fall, looking at the way it bounced back into position, and then he groped it. It hurt. I just barely managed not to wince or shudder; instead, I was still and silent as a statue.

“As you can see, the job is not quite complete yet,” the prince said, motioning at my crotch; my small, shrunken member was barely visible in my bush. “But Master Verdun assures me that in one or two more sessions, all traces of her former self should be gone for good.”

I mentally cringed at the revelation.

“I see, I see,” the ambassador said, nodding. “I appreciate you showing me this, my lord; our country also has a few traitors who would merit such a punishment.”

“I knew you would enjoy it,” the prince said. “Perhaps we could put your own court wizard in touch with Master Verdun.”

“Yes, I would like that,” the ambassador replied.

Then Izaak addressed me directly: “I have no further need for you now, Erica. Resume your duties,” he ordered.

I crouched to the floor to retrieve my clothes, but the prince stopped me: “I did not say you could get dressed.”

A shiver ran down my spine, but I managed not to show my distress.

I stood up. “By your command,” I said, and slowly, deliberately, walked away from him, without turning my back until I was several steps away.

The silence was deafening. Everyone in the room was following my every move with their eyes as I took my tray back from Sylvie and started handing out refreshments again.

Keep your head up, Erica, I told myself. Don’t show weakness. Don’t show pain. Slow and dignified.

For a while no one dared to speak a single word; you could hear a pin drop in the huge ballroom. Then Prince Izaak clapped his hands and said, in a loud voice: “What’s the matter, dear guests? This is a party, let’s celebrate! Let’s have fun!”

Slowly, tentatively, the guests started talking again among themselves; the music started again, and everyone stopped paying attention to me (or as much attention to me, at least). Soon the party was underway once again. As for me, I only wished I could disappear; every time I saw someone steal a glance at my naked form I wanted to melt into the ballroom floor right then and there.

It was a few agonising hours until the party was over; in the end, the other servants and I stood in the middle of the room, our heads bowed as the guests filed out, ending with the prince himself, who looked back and sneered at me before the huge double doors thudded closed behind him.

I was almost in a daze by then; my legs were weak, and I was ready to collapse to the floor and cry, but after a few moments I felt a blanket being draped over my body; I looked up and I saw Sylvie, flanked by Therese and Cecily, smiling at me warmly and reassuringly.

“You did very well, dear,” Therese said. “I’m proud of how you didn’t give an inch to that bastard.”

Usually the servants would need to clean everything after a party, but I let my friends whisk me away, and lead me through doors and along corridors, down to the servants’ dining, where they put a night gown on me, sat me in front of the large, roaring fireplace and put a warm bowl of soup in my hands.

As I sipped the liquid I started shivering, and then shaking; it wasn’t the cold that caused it, as much as my emotions running wild. My friends embraced me to calm me down: I didn’t respond, I was too much out of it, but I was grateful for them being there for me.

After a while I started nodding off; they noticed, and I was led to my bed; I was almost unresponsive as they dressed me in my nightdress. I laid down on the mattress, someone pulled the covers over me, and I closed my eyes.

As I was drifting away I heard voices, very distant, almost through a haze.

I don’t understand. Why did Izaak do something so cruel? Just to show that he could? It was pointless.”

The cruelty is the point. He’s not punishing Erica for the sake of it, he’s sending a clear message: this is what happens to anyone who betrays me. Erica just is a symbol: she’s someone who dared go against him, someone who dared defy him.”

But that’s not true, she didn’t do anything.”

But Izaak believes she did; and at this point I doubt he’d care, even if he was confronted with the truth. And he will not stop until he gets retribution for her imagined transgressions. He will not stop until she fully bends to his will… Or until she breaks.”

So what do we do?”

A sigh.

It’s up to Erica to decide. We can help her, if she’ll let us. I just hope she will.”

And then I fell into a deep, nightmare-filled sleep.

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