【Part One】 Chivalry's Not Dead

Adrian stared into the mirror. He was dressed in his work uniform, a cheap, black and blue polyester shirt with khaki pants. Yesterday, the day after the ritual, had been his day off. Adrian hadn’t left his apartment. He’d had too much on his mind, and the lingering anxiety that if he went out into the world it would all become real. As long as he stayed in it was easier to pretend everything was normal. Now that was over.

He thought about calling in sick, but he couldn’t afford to miss any hours. Between Opal, the speeding ticket, and even the supplies for the ritual, he’d been set back more than he could afford. Missing a day of work just wasn’t in the cards for him. If all that wasn't enough, he’d have to find some way to finance his hunt for an artifact too.

Adrian was no closer to making up his mind on which artifact to pursue than he had been the day before. What he had decided, however, was not to tell any of the others - his ‘squires’ - anything about the affair. He didn’t need their help and they didn’t need to know. He hadn’t been looking to drag them into this with him, the plan had always been for him to go it alone.

The whispers in his head, spirits in Araqiel’s court, hadn’t liked that. They’d been arguing almost nonstop over who he should approach first. Adrian owed them nothing though. A tiny, quiet voice in the back of his head suggested that it was cowardice that kept Adrian from telling the squires, guilt over having roped them in, but it was easy to ignore against the backdrop of the spirits’ much louder demands. Adrian would cut the squires loose if he could, but he needed this pact, so that wasn’t an option. But that didn’t mean he needed to include them.

Suddenly, the voices grew louder. He had grown used to their background noise, but now they surged forward, becoming impossible to ignore. He felt them beginning to press in on his mind, looking for cracks to slip between. For what purpose he couldn't say, but he was sure that whatever it was he wanted no part of it. Adrian focused and redoubled his efforts to keep them locked out. He caught them off guard. They seemed confused as if they had expected him to welcome the insurgency into his mind. Taking advantage of this he focused and, with one final press, quelled the uprising. The voices faded back to the quiet but constant drone that Araqiel had said would be his new normal.

Adrian rested his arms on his knees. The struggle had been entirely mental, but it had left him winded nonetheless. He took a second to gather himself. Somehow, this was his reality. He'd have to learn to live with it. It beat the alternative.

Adrian braced himself with one last look into the mirror and pushed down all his concerns. For the rest of the day, all he’d need to worry about was cleaning floors, stocking shelves, and handling customers. He’d been doing it for years, this would be no different. Just get through the shift, he told himself.

Adrian grabbed his keys off the counter and left the apartment. His eyes couldn’t help but dart to his neighbor’s unit, but thankfully that woman he’d taken a picture of was nowhere to be seen. He might have to move if he hoped to avoid her long-term, but for now, he still had six months on his lease.

His work wasn’t far and the drive went by quickly. Adrian was relieved to find that once he had clocked in his newfound problems faded into the background. The perils of demonic pacts seemed absurd compared to the sober reality of taking inventory. For once he welcomed the drudge work; ‘mind-numbing’ was exactly what he was after.

The relief didn't last. A couple of hours into his shift he found himself confronted by a middle-aged woman demanding to use a coupon, several years expired. Mindful of his manager Phil’s watchful gaze, he bit back what he really thought and instead carefully explained that they couldn't accept it. The woman insisted, however, that saving eighty cents on a can of beans was an absolutely critical issue. Idly, Adrian wondered if before too long he’d have the ability to fry the woman with a bolt of lightning.

That was when it clicked. It was ridiculous that Araqiel had chosen him. Adrian gave a look around at the too-brightly-lit store, thought back to his dingy apartment, looked down at the branded polo shirt he had to wear for work…how was he fit to be a knight? Why him?

Maybe Araqiel was hard up for choices. Assuming that what it had told him about Kyriakos had been true, and there was no reason so far to think that it wasn’t, it stood to reason that Araqiel might have had to take on a knight quickly. Still, though, he couldn’t help but wonder if there wasn't someone more suitable.

Araqiel had claimed he was a strong candidate. Had that just been to puff him up? Not if it really couldn’t lie, which he was starting to accept might be true. So if he really was well suited to the job, that meant that there was more to it than he understood. He would have to fix that. His life depended on it, in more than one way.

As his mind wandered, Adrian had managed to get by in the one-sided argument with the woman by making vague noises. Eventually, though she finally got around to asking to speak to his manager. Adrian was more than happy to pawn her off, even if a small part of him was disappointed to know that Phil would cave and let her have her stupid coupon.

Another hour passed in the relative peace of menial labor, but the placating effect had been lost. Adrian knew that his time working there would have to end soon. Despite his best efforts, he found he could no longer ignore the pressing issue of claiming an artifact. As he reorganized boxes of cereal, he resolved to finally make up his mind.

Unfortunately, his deliberation was cut short by the one thing he had hoped to avoid more than anything. From the corner of his eye, he spotted Rhys skirting out of the employee break room. Rhys made himself small, hugging the shelves like a skittish mouse. He had on a large black hoody, his skinny limbs practically drowning in it as he hurried down the aisle next to Adrian's.

Adrian let out a sigh, thankful that Rhys hadn’t spotted him, but the sound of Phil’s angry chiding put him back on edge. “What are you wearing?”

“Um…what do you mean?” was Rhys’ reply.

“You can’t wear sweatshirts. You know that.”

“I’m just…a little cold.”

“Are you going to make me make you take it off?”

“I was hoping that maybe just for today I could…”

“No sweatshirts at work!”

In the back of his mind, Adrian heard one of the whispers chitter. "He's embarrassed," it laughed cruelly.

Adrian seized the voice and yanked it to the forefront of his attention. "What do you know," he demanded.

"We changed him," it answered, as surprised at Adrian's sudden ferocity as Adrian was himself. "But he didn't like it," it finished.

A pit opened up in Adrian's stomach. What the hell did that mean?

---

Rhys dropped his clothes into the hamper. He liked to keep things tidy. His room was spotless, a far cry from the rest of the house. Rhys' parents didn’t share his fastidious nature. They were content to let things get dusty and grimy. Not that they were unsanitary, but it was enough to leave him embarrassed whenever he had friends over. Rhys dug a toe into his carpet; it was practically a different color than the rest of the house.

He walked past his bed, over which he’d hung an original Indiana Jones movie poster, and opened up his closet. It was time to get dressed for work. Rhys hated his job. He couldn’t wait to graduate and start a real career. Once that happened he’d finally have enough money to move out, and that couldn’t come a moment too soon. Working at Save Mart sucked. The customers were rude, his manager was a dick, and none of his coworkers were his friends.

"Adrian is your friend."

Rhys whipped his head around, certain that he'd heard something. But he was alone. The only sound that greeted him in the empty room was the hum of his computer.

Shaking it off, Rhys fetched his uniform out of the closet. He held it up, preparing to put it on, when his stomach began to cramp fiercely. He dropped the shirt to the floor and clutched at his midsection. The pain passed quickly, but Rhys only had a moment to wonder at it before the whispers came.

A hoard of voices bombarded him. He turned his head, searching for their source, but they always seemed to be coming from just past the edge of his vision. At first, there were too many things being said to understand. He drowned in that sea of whispers, growing steadily more and more panicked until a few prominent voices rose above the rest.

“A little narrower here…”

“Wider there...”

"Some tits would be nice."

"Turn him into a pretty little fuck toy..."

Rhys covered his ears, **** to make them stop, but it had no effect. A tingling sensation swept across his body, like when he had slept on a limb. He turned to his closet mirror, frantically trying to find what was wrong, but outwardly he appeared normal. For the moment.

Rhys' skin began to ripple in tiny little vibrations. Unable to stop what was coming, he could only watch in mute horror as he began to change.

First was his waist. It pulled in, narrowing at his midsection. What little fat he had crawled across his body, concentrating on his stomach. His hips came next, widening out as his shoulders began to narrow. His chest shrunk and his rib cage contracted. The changes weren’t ****, only a couple of centimeters at most, but the effect was dramatic. Rhys had never been well-built, but he had at least had a man's body: a straight waist and hips narrower than his shoulders. No more. Rhys had curves.

The numbing hadn’t gone away though. There was more to come. The final humiliation he would have to suffer began to unfold as his previously flat chest and small nipples grew. The flesh shoved forward, newly minted fat reserves shaking and pale skin stretching. His nipples fattened; where before they were tiny they were now the size of pencil erasers. The tender pink skin of his areola widened out into half-dollars. Rhys stared in terror at his fresh set of small, perky breasts.

At last, the whispers abated. The numb, prickling sensation ceased. Rhys’ mouth hung open as he took in his new form. It seemed impossible, but standing there in his reflection, Rhys saw the body of a woman.

Panic came on fast. This was wrong. This was so wrong. What could do this? How? His mind was screaming, completely incapable of forming a single coherent thought. He was going to cry. His hands shook. His breathing was shallow.

“Rhys!” shouted his father from downstairs. “What’s taking so long? Let’s go!”

Rhys’ heart thudded in his chest. His car was still broken, so his dad was driving him to work, but that couldn’t happen. No one could see him like this. He thought quickly. “I…”

Rhys stopped mid-sentence. He needed to keep his voice calm. He couldn't afford his Dad coming up to see what was wrong. Starting again, he said, “I don’t feel well. I think I’m going to stay home today.” His eyes never left his reflection.

“Bullshit! You signed up for this job, you made me stop my day to take you, you’re going!”

“I really don’t feel well,” Rhys insisted.

“I’m not arguing with you about it. Get down here! Don’t make me come up there!”

Shit. This was a nightmare. Rhys was trapped in a nightmare. This couldn’t be real, he thought, but the sound of his father’s pounding footsteps on the stairs told him that it was.

“Alright!” he spluttered, terrified of his father barging into the room. “I’m changing! I’ll be right down!”

“You have two minutes!”

Completely lost, Rhys hurried his way into his uniform and looked himself over. The ill-fitting polo shirt managed to avoid clinging to his new figure, but it did nothing at all to hide his nascent tits.

“Rhys!” shouted his father.

His mind went blank. “I’m coming down!” Unsure of what else to do, Rhys threw on a baggy black hoody and then raced down to meet his dad. His brain fizzled like soda. What was he going to do?

---

Adrian’s throat constricted as he began to work out what the spirits were telling him, what they had done to Rhys. Araqiel had said there’d be changes, but not like this. Whatever he had been expecting, it wasn’t this. His heart broke for the young man. He couldn’t even imagine what it must be like, and Adrian at least had the small comfort of understanding why it was happening.

Phil’s demand that Rhys remove the sweatshirt was growing stronger and Adrian knew that if he kept pushing Rhys would crack. Adrian turned and headed to their aisle. It wasn’t a decision he'd meant to make; he was moving before he knew what he was doing. As his thoughts caught up to his actions he began to wonder if this was the right call. Hadn’t he planned on keeping to himself? Was it his problem what happened to Rhys?

Adrian would never know what he would have decided if he'd taken the time to think it over. Phil saw him coming, and once he opened his fat lips Adrian was in it.

“This doesn’t concern you, Adrian,” Phil said with a scowl.

“The hell it doesn’t,” he shot back.

“Mind your own business for once.”

“While you stand there and berate him over…what? A sweatshirt? Are you serious?”

“He isn't allowed to wear," Phil said, frustrated. "You know that.”

“So what?”

“So I’m the manager. It’s my job to make sure you follow the damn rules!”

Rhys watched on silently as the two older men duked it out.

“Nobody cares about the rules Phil!” Adrian shouted. “We’re minimum wage employees. You’re lucky we show up at all.”

“You’re welcome to stop showing up if you want.” Phil narrowed his eyes, but he’d overplayed his hand.

“Sounds like a deal,” Adrian told him dryly. “You let the sweatshirt thing slide like a decent goddamn person or Rhys and I walk. Right now.”

Rhys was staring at him like a trout on the hook, wide-eyed and open-mouthed, but a stern look from Adrian kept him from speaking up.

“Can you afford that?” Adrian continued. “You keep us so short-staffed, I don’t think you can.”

“You wouldn’t,” Phil scoffed.

“Watch me,” Adrian warned. To his surprise, he found that, yeah, he would do it. He needed the money, sure, but he knew that working at Save Mart wasn’t going to be a long-term plan given his new arrangements. He’d be leaving sooner or later, and while it would help a lot to pocket an extra paycheck or two first, he was more than willing to storm out right then just to fuck Phil over.

The two locked eyes for a long moment. It was Phil who broke first.

“Whatever,” he sneered. “It's that important to you? Fine. Just get back to work. But if I catch you slacking off there'll be consequences.” The pudgy little man stormed back to his office, fists balled but completely impotent.

“Um…thanks,” came Rhys’ tiny voice. He looked shell-shocked.

Adrian turned to his coworker and let out a deep breath. In a soft tone, he said, “Listen, we need to talk.”

“We do?”

“Just…follow me.”

Adrian led Rhys, who followed him like a puppy, to the employee break room. Adrian’s eyes drifted over to the busted-up locker where he’d stolen Rhys’ shirt. Forcing himself to look away, he closed the door. Adrian took a second to compose his thoughts. Rhys watched thoughtfully, curious but letting him take the time he needed.

“There’s no easy way to say this,” Adrian began. "I know why you’re in that sweatshirt today.”

Rhys went white as a sheet. “What?” he almost squeaked.

“I know. About the…changes.”

“What…how…I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

Adrian snorted at Rhys' terrible lie, but his tone was soft. “Yeah, you do. And…I can explain what happened. But you might not believe me.”

That caught Rhys’ attention. He dropped the denial immediately. His eyes burned. Adrian had his complete attention. “You can? What's going on? How do you know about it?”

Now that he was having this conversation, a conversation he hadn’t planned on ever having, Adrian found it difficult to know where to start. “I guess the first thing you should know is that I’m sick.” And then Adrian told him. He told Rhys about the book, about the ritual, about accepting the position as Araqiel’s knight. Adrian held back the most damning parts of the story, where he’d stolen personal effects from his would-be squires, Rhys included, and instead implied that the ritual had chosen his squires for him. But everything else, he told him.

For his part, Rhys just listened. He would ask small clarifying questions here and there, but he seemed content for the moment to just process. Adrian could see his mind at work, but whatever Rhys was thinking he kept it to himself.

When the story was done, Adrian looked at Rhys expectantly. “So?”

“So what?”

“Do you believe me?”

“Yeah,” came Rhys’ reply. “It makes sense.”

Adrian raised his eyebrows. “It does?”

“Well,” Rhys frowned. “No. It doesn’t. But I know what I saw. And somehow so do you. Whatever the answer was going to be, it was going to be something unbelievable because the question itself was so unbelievable. A demonic curse fits the bill better than anything I've been able to come up with.”

“I have to be honest,” said Adrian, taken aback. “I didn’t expect you to just take my word for it.”

“I trust you,” Rhys confided. “But I’ll want to see some evidence. Actually, a lot of evidence. I want to know everything.”

“You’re ok?” Adrian asked. “You seemed pretty shaken up earlier.”

“I was, but this helps. Now it’s just a problem. I can solve problems.”

He was putting on a brave face, Adrian could tell that Rhys was still struggling, but despite that, he did seem better.

“I get it,” Adrian said. “Before my diagnosis, I was terrified. Not knowing what was happening to me was terrifying. But somehow, just learning what the problem was made it easier to handle, even if nothing had changed.”

“Exactly,” Rhys agreed. Then he had a thought. “So these other… ’squires’...they’ll be going through this too?”

Adrian hadn’t thought about it. “I guess so.”

“We need to tell them then,” Rhys said, bordering on confidence.

Adrian shook his head. “Not yet. I risked enough just telling you. Araqiel said I shouldn’t bring more than one or two of you guys into the loop until I was fully knighted. Something about the strength of the pact.”

“What do you mean before you're fully knighted?”

Adrian sighed. “That’s the other thing I needed to talk to you about. I need your help.”

Of all the things that Adrian had said, that was the one that left Rhys dumbfounded. “My help?”

“Yeah,” Adrian said, deflated. “I need to steal an artifact, and I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“You want me to help you steal something? Me,” Rhys said flatly.

“I know you’re smart. You do…computers, right?”

“Robotics,” Rhys corrected, quickly, as if it were an ingrained response.

Adrian continued. “Well, whatever, I could use somebody with a good head on their shoulders. Failing that, an extra pair of eyes and hands couldn't hurt.”

“I don’t think I’m who you want.”

“You’re who I’ve got though. And I could do a whole lot worse.”

Rhys perked up at the compliment, although he still seemed doubtful. He paused for a second, at war with himself.

“It might be that if I can get this artifact, I’ll have enough control over the pact to change you back,” Adrian offered. He had no reason to believe that was true. Araqiel hadn’t implied that the changes could be reverted. But by that same token, Adrian had no reason to believe it wasn’t true either, which in his mind meant that he wasn’t lying.

“You think so?”

“I don’t know, but maybe.”

Rhys chewed it over one last time. “Alright,” he finally answered. “I’ll help.” He practically beamed as he said it. “So what first?”

Adrian looked around the break room. “Not here. I have one other person I might want to talk to first. Besides, if we take much longer Phil might actually fire us.”

“Ok,” Rhys said. “But can we hurry? I don’t like being…stuck like this.”

“Let’s plan on meeting up tomorrow then,” Adrian told him. “What’s your number?”

The two exchanged phone numbers and, with nothing else to do, got back to work. Adrian didn’t know if he’d made the right choice telling Rhys about Araqiel, but there was no point second-guessing himself now. This was happening, and although he hated to admit it, he could use all the help he could get.