Work Text:
The morning light stubbornly refused to hide behind the curtain. Lyria tried burying her head further under the covers but it was no good. In a defeatist manner, she chucked away the covers and heaved herself out of bed. Rubbing the tiredness out of her eyes, Lyria gasped when she opened them. She wasn’t in her quarters - she was in Commander Hilda’s!
How had she gotten here? She didn’t remember anything after herself and Hilda got cut off from the rest of the patrol group that had been fighting. Vaguely she remembered herself and Hilda pushing back some skeletons as they attempted to regroup back to the others. After that her mind was blank. Clearly they had won the fight from the fact that she’d been brought back to Dreadfort, although why she’d been left to doze and recover in the commander’s quarters was a mystery.
Lyria almost ran out into the barrack’s hallway, when she caught a glance of her reflection in the mirror. Except it wasn’t her reflection she saw, it was Hilda’s. She screamed. The door swung open.
A high pitched squeaky voice came from the doorway. “At least I know what’s happened to me.”
She turned to find she was now looking at herself hovering in the doorway. “Commander?”
“That would be me.” Hilda admitted.
Lost for words, Lyria scratched her head. “Do you know how we swapped bodies cause I don’t remember anything after we got separated from the others.”
“Like you, I woke up not in my own room and found that my hair had turned pink so naturally I checked the mirror and discovered this.” Hilda said, gesturing up and down to the body she was now trapped in. “We must fix this immediately!”
There was no way Lyria could take her seriously anymore. The fact that Hilda was stuck in a much smaller frame with a childlike voice was hilarious.
“Couldn’t we just appreciate this for a few minutes?” Lyria asked, grinning. “Can’t I just enjoy getting a taste of being an adult?”
Hilda crossed her - Lyria’s - arms and desperately tried to assert the stance of authority. It was no good. Laughing, Lyria joked that she’d never had to look down to authority before, obviously mocking their reversed height differences. It didn’t help that Hilda looked as though she was ready to start a bar fight.
“This is ridiculous!” Hilda snapped. “I don’t want to be a teenager again.”
“But Commander, you get to have fun again. You can pull pranks, eat as much candy as you want and no one’s gonna ask questions.” Lyria replied, hoping her enthusiasm would sell the idea. “As for me, I finally get to see what it’s like to be taken seriously.”
Unable to convince the commander, Lyria watched her pull out a chair to stand on.
“Now that I’ve got your attention, we must fix this problem because we don’t know how we ended up like this. What if this is part of someone’s evil plans?”
Silence. When Hilda put it that way the situation was no longer funny.
“So what do we do?”
“We figure what happened by ourselves. As much as I hate to say this, we’re going to have to pretend to be each other in the meantime.” Hilda replied.
“Everyone’s already heard us shouting in the barracks.”
Hilda shook her - Lyria’s - head and pointed to a clock on the wall. “It’s almost midday, pretty sure we’re the only ones who’ve overslept.”
Not really listening, Lyria was her new reflection. She squared her - Hilda’s - shoulders, chin raised and tried to mimic the commander’s usual stern stare. It was surprisingly convincing until she ruined it by grinning.
“I’m going to enjoy this.” She said to the reflection.
Behind her she heard Hilda mutter rhetorically that power had already gone to her head.
Clapping two hands together, Lyria spoke. “Ok, I guess we better get going then.”
“Not when you’re still wearing pyjamas.” Hilda pointed out.
Looking downwards, Lyria saw the issue. She let out a sheepish laugh. “Whoops.”
“This is never going to work.”
“Oh ye have little faith.” Lyria said, searching the room for Hilda’s armour.
Shutting an eye, Hilda winced seeing Lyria try and unfasten a shoulder plate off the armour stand. “You do know how to wear armor, right?”
Turns out Lyria didn’t and thus Hilda had to help her, although she mostly did so by explaining. In Lyria’s body, Hilda didn’t have the strength to pull the armor straps securely enough to be fastened. More than a few times she’d lost her patience, especially when Lyria kept admiring the golden plated helmet - one she hadn’t earned the right to wear.
“You’re not wearing my helmet, end of discussion.” Hilda said, turning Lyria’s focus away from the armor stand it was still resting on.
“But Commander-”
“You don’t need it. No one will notice because I hardly wear it outside of battle.” Hilda replied. “Besides I won’t wear your elytra if you don’t touch my helmet.”
Lyria turned around away from the mirror to face Hilda. The mischievous glint in her eyes she usually wore didn’t look so good with Hilda’s. “But Commander I do wear my elytra all the time and questions are gonna be raised.”
“Then I’ll just say it’s torn.”
“But Commander, that's not very me of you. I take good care of it and repair it when necessary. I think you ought to wear it.” Lyria said, thinking it would be funny if Hilda was forced into having to learn to fly with it.
“Are you trying to pull rank on me? You may look like me, however that doesn’t make you me.” Hilda reminded her.
“Frost flakes.” Lyria cursed, failing to pull the tunic over her borrowed armor.
“With that kind of language you’ll never pass as me.” Hilda sighed.
“It sounds more like something you’d say than damn it.”
The air was still for a moment too long.
“Try not to make an embarrassment out of me.” Hilda said at last, before she went to leave.
Promising she would try, Lyria couldn’t help but think Hilda was going to have a harder time than her. For all her childish antics, she did work hard and the commander wasn’t the only one who overlooked that. Things would certainly be interesting if Hilda was forced into doing stuff in Lyria’s mentor’s lab.
Full of confidence, Hilda marched to the tavern doors. She’d been a teenager once so it would be easy being one again for a short while. She had to swallow that pride when she couldn’t pull the door open. Sure the door was usually stiff but with a good tug she was normally able to open it but trapped in Lyria’s body she wasn’t so lucky. In frustration she kicked the door. It didn’t budge.
“Ah Captain Lyria, has no one told you the tavern door has been having problems with freezing its hinges.” Kane said, noticing the struggle. He came up to Hilda and grasped hold of the door handle. “You have to give it a hard solid tug.”
She went to say she’d tried that when the door opened. She felt like a right fool when Kane held the door open for her as she stepped inside.
Meanwhile Lyria was rather enjoying herself - a bit too much perhaps. On her way to Hilda’s office a number of soldiers had saluted her, which was starting to get to her head. When she got to the office she happily made herself comfortable in the chair opposite the side of the desk, she was usually allowed to stand at.
‘Commander Lyria.’ She hummed to herself, propping two feet on the desk.
For a moment she sat there happily until the stack of paperwork caught her focus. Time for actual commander duties but it couldn’t be that hard since she had helped other officers organise their workload and tidy their offices in the past.
Medical reports. That wasn’t beyond her scope of knowledge. Ration supply lists and equipment records, also not difficult to deal with. Lyria was starting to think that it was going to be all too easy and that Hilda had doubted her for no good reason.
Hilda wasn’t having such a good time. Only half way through a sandwich and someone had asked her to deliver a report to Captain Irom, who was apparently on the other side of Dreadfort. Naturally Hilda requested she finish her meal first but the answer was no. It was urgent, allegedly. Again she asked if someone else could deliver it but no. Lyria was the fastest messenger and that was a fact Hilda couldn’t deny and that’s how she ended up running across Dreadfort because right now she was Lyria.
One thing she hadn’t understood before she came up to Irom all out of breath, was how Lyria traveled so quickly with energy to burn. Hands resting on knees, she handed over the report.
“Captain, are you ok?” Irom asked.
Between breaths, Hilda explained that she had just sprinted a marathon from one side of the town to the other.
“How come you don’t have your elytra, Lyria? It would’ve been quicker to fly.”
Something clicked. Of course Lyria hardly ran anywhere; she preferred flying. And unlike other elytra flyers, Lyria was talented or crazy (Hilda could never tell) enough to fly through narrow streets of a town or tightly packed trees of a forest. No wonder the kid was always raring to go.
“Um you see, it was torn in battle yesterday and I overslept this morning so I haven’t had a chance to repair it.” Hilda said.
She hoped her lie now sounded more Lyria-like to be convincing.
Skimming through the report, Irom glanced up and saw her leaning against a building. “You’ll be pleased to know you don’t have to make a return trip with a reply. You’ll get your breath back, don’t worry.”
Wiping away the sweat, she thanked him. Hopefully no one else wanted her to deliver messages today.
Inside Hilda’s office, Lyria was surprisingly enjoying herself even though paperwork could’ve been considered the most mundane task a superior officer had to do. The paperwork, although dull, was fairly straightforward. The only trouble she had at the beginning was trying to forge Hilda’s signature from an old document she was using as reference. After several attempts she’d managed to pull off a decent forgery, which was probably the most satisfying part about the whole morning.
A knock caused Lyria to leap out of the chair when the door opened. Out of habit she saluted.
“Hilda, what are you doing?” Agatha asked, shutting the door behind her. “You know I’m supposed to salute first and you don’t have to return it?”
Lyria froze mid-salute and then slowly lowered her arm, trying to return a calm and controlled expression that Hilda would have. “Nice to see you remember protocol.”
“Of course I do. It’s just that as friends we don’t use all the formalities if it’s just the two of us or if we’re off duty.” Agatha replied and then changed the subject as she didn’t want to risk being reprimanded or something. “Anyway Lord Patrick has requested for you to have a meeting with him.”
Patrick wanted a meeting. Lyria struggled to contain her excitement. Usually she was excluded from most meetings due to being a lower ranking officer and when she did attend her mentor, Azura, kept a lid on her behavior. Yet here was a chance for her to feel included and important and maybe even prove that her ideas weren’t as stupid as people thought.
“Commander, you seem livelier and more cheerful than usual. How high on coffee are you?” Agatha asked, raising an eyebrow.
“I haven’t had a single mug, you’ll be pleased to know.”
There was a pause. A long one.
“I think I’ll have someone fetch you some coffee before that meeting starts in half an hour.” Agatha said, deciding she preferred the commander’s personality after coffee because it was too weird seeing her in such a great mood.
Across Dreadfort, Hilda allowed herself to rest on a bench when Officer Syphon approached.
“Oi, you! You haven’t done any of your tasks yet! There’s timber that needs moving to the airship and there’s medical supplies that need restocking at the infirmary and you haven’t polished my armor like you said you would.” Syphon scowled.
That was a lot of tasks. It hadn’t occurred to Hilda that Lyria would have so many and such a broad range that don’t relate to her area of profession.
“Sorry Sir, I’ll see to it.” Hilda replied.
Unstrapping a shoulder plate, Syphon tossed it at her. “You can clear my armour first.”
“That’s no way to speak to someone of a higher rank.” Hilda said, standing off the bench.
“Because you’re a kid. I’m not having a kid act like their superior to me.”
With that he threw a second shoulder plate. Hilda caught it.
“You’ll regret that.” She muttered as he walked away saying that he was just going to take his chain mail off to clean as well.
Standing by the window in the war room, Lyria was preparing how to handle her attitude during the meeting by looking at the reflection in the glass. The bitter taste of coffee she had been pressured into drinking beforehand, still lingered. Imagining the reflection really was Hilda giving her a lecture about responsibility and leadership, she relaxed a little.
“What if people don’t respect me?” She whispered aloud.
Of course it being said in Hilda’s voice it sounded ridiculous. No one disrespected the commander. Lyria chuckled at the absurdity.
“Please enlighten me, Commander, as to what you find so humorous.” Patrick said, having entered the room.
“Just watching some children have a snowball fight.” Lyria replied, keeping a steady voice and pivoted away from the window to face the grandmaster.
Fortunately Patrick was too polite to question the bright mood. Instead he cut straight to the point and asked for a full report about yesterday’s skirmish as he had yet to hear a report from the commander herself.
“Well my Lord, that is a bit of an issue. I was not aware of how victory was achieved until you informed me just now because I was unconscious mid-fight.” Lyria explained, unsure of what to say.
“How did you fall unconscious?” He asked.
“Exhaustion burnout. Captain Lyria, I believe, had a similar experience as we were cut off from the others and forced to fight back to back. After defeating the wave of incoming skeletons, our adrenaline crashed.” Lyria said, hoping that her tone alone would sell her unconvincing story.
A sympathetic nod came from Patrick. “I hope you rested well last night in that case.”
“Yes Sire!”
She was a bit too energetic and quick with that response. Thankfully Patrick continued as if it was unnoticed.
“Now onto more administrative matters. I’ve summoned you here to compare this quarter’s financial ratio performance with its set targets. Military expenditure must be kept under control.” He said and produced a set of fine ink numbers on top of a pile of documents.
Lyria almost slipped up by giving him a blank stare. Since when did a commander’s duties involve mathematics?
“Commander, please focus. We need to decide how to optimise operational expenditure either by balancing costs or by reallocating funds to priority spending.” Patrick said, expecting a response.
Poor Lyria didn’t have one. He’d completely lost her just when she thought she was being a decent commander. To make it worse, he now had her doubting her mathematical ability because she didn’t understand his vocabulary. She could feel herself burning up.
“Perhaps we should focus on procurement as our first topic.”
Procurement. What was that? Lyria struggled keeping her posture still as nerves started getting the better of her. “Sure, let’s talk about procurement.”
“Good. I was thinking of scaling back on specialised equipment for the army. We mostly use melee weapons and rifles are currently expensive and slow to produce. Again I don’t believe beacon or crystal charged weapons are-”
Forgetting that she was supposed to be Hilda, Lyria was triggered by the idea of Patrick pulling the cord on Azura and her line of work. “You can’t do that! You won’t have any peace when Azura hears of this!”
“Commander! I was thinking of lowering it by two percent.” He replied. “As for the primary strategy, I intend to reduce logistical costs by the usage of airships. They proved ineffective on the battlefront, however they are extremely efficient in transporting supplies. I would like your forecast on this scenario, Commander.”
“I’d have to check the weather first.”
Patrick stared, and she could almost read his thoughts, which was something along the lines of wondering if she’d lost it. Being the man he was he didn’t openly say it.
“Commander, you’re looking rather pale and you say you overdid it yesterday, perhaps we will continue this meeting another time?”
“I think that is for the best, my Lord.” Lyria said, her tension slowly ebbing away.
“Very well then. You also have my permission to come off duty early if you so wish and please don’t hesitate to go to the infirmary if you are feeling unwell.” Patrick replied as Lyria saluted him.
She knew he suspected she had a concussion or something but whatever this cursed body swap was, was so much worse. Promising to look after herself, Lyria managed to control herself not to bolt out of the room and instead left unbelievably calmly. Looking back, perhaps that was a mistake because she ought to have said something against visiting the infirmary if she was pretending to be Hilda.
Syphon’s armour out shone his manners by a mile. After he’d been so rude, Hilda decided she would polish his armour so brightly it would be blinding. Even so, it would be dishonest to say she didn’t find polishing someone else’s armour beneath her. Moreover she was cross that Lyria had claimed she would get to have fun being a teenager without responsibility. Not one thing had been fun or without responsibility for Hilda since she’d woken up.
Having finished the armour set, Hilda had gone onto Lyria’s next task, from what Syphon had told her. It should’ve been an easy task, moving some fleshy cut timber planks to the site they would be nailed into the airship by one of the craftsmen.
Hilda went over to lift the first stack. The planks weren’t unbelievably heavy and in her own body, Hilda wouldn’t have even broken a sweat. However Lyria’s body was built for agility and stamina, not strength. Muscles strained as Hilda heaved the planks centimetres off the ground. She tried to straighten up. Unbalanced, she toppled forward and dropped the stack, almost crushing a toe in the process. The worksite fell silent.
“Are you alright there?” Asked a craftsman.
Out of embarrassment, Hilda said she was fine and that she could handle the timber. Crouching again, she could hear the words she would usually tell other soldiers to ‘put their backs into it and lift from the knees’. That wasn’t much good when Lyria’s frame wasn’t built for brute strength weightlifting. Her - Lyria’s - arms trembled and were beginning to be pulled downward. Hilda’s vision tilted. Forced to drop the planks, she stopped herself from falling backward.
‘Curse these adolescent limbs.’ She thought as the sweat poured off her.
Staring at the planks, she reassessed the situation, however this time she tried to see it from Lyria’s perspective. If the girl couldn’t use pure strength, then perhaps she split the load and took multiple trips. She later discovered that that was indeed the way Lyria approached the problem, but unlike Hilda who walked when making the trips, Lyria usually used her elytra.
The craftsmen had teased Hilda when she was lying in the snow gasping for air, having moved the final lot of planks. They kept joking that she didn’t know what hard work was until she wasn’t able to use an elytra. Poor Hilda had discovered the hard way that Lyria wasn’t lazy, she just couldn’t do tasks the conventional way without being burned out.
With new found admiration for Lyria’s creativity and endurance, Hilda dragged herself slowly to the next task - delivering medical supplies. The crates were neatly stacked with the majority of them containing glass bottles of various medications. If Hilda dropped one of these, the consequences wouldn’t be as forgiving as they had been with the planks.
Carefully she tested one of the crates but it might as well as have contained lead. It wouldn’t even budge. Examining the crates, she hoped to find a half empty one at least. Every last one was full.
“Ok fine, let’s do this Lyria’s way.” Hilda said, taking a step back.
For once she was forced into applying strategic thinking to everyday tasks. The process wasn’t too foreign from battlefield tactics, however Hilda didn’t know the solutions like she did when facing a battle problem.
It took at least twenty minutes for Hilda to come up with a solution. She had gone to fetch rounded logs to roll the crates on, a few at a time, across the snow to the infirmary. Crouching on the floor, she removed the log at the back to place at the front of the chain again. Quite a number of people had mocked her when they had passed, yet Hilda was determined to persevere.
Finally Hilda shoved the last crate across the infirmary floor, despite the medics yelling that she was scratching the floor. Pushing the crate next to the others, Hilda stood up and smiled as if she was a triumphant hero. Shaking from the effort, she swayed on her feet. Doctor Fegelin was the first to notice.
“Sit down before you fall down!”
Hilda’s instinct as a commander was to deny weakness. “I’m fine.” She said, giving him a cold hand stare.
With Lyria’s face it looked more like a child pouting because they wanted to stay awake past their bedtime.
“No you’re not. You’re bright red with hair plastered to your face. Now sit down and do as you are told!” Fegelin snapped.
Determined to protest, Hilda attempted to ignore him by walking past. “Don’t speak to me like I’m a child.”
No further than two steps past Fegelin, she started falling. Fortunately for her, Fegelin had anticipated this. He caught her and manoeuvred her to a bench.
“You will sit and stay here for at least half an hour to cool off and get your breath back.” He said and asked a nurse to fetch a glass of water.
When the nurse returned, Hilda was told to sip the water, which was hard because she was dehydrated and wanted to swallow it quickly. Fegelin made sure she didn’t and he was very clear that if she dared leave the bench, he would sign her in as an infirmary patient.
Lyria wasn’t facing physical exhaustion. It was mental endurance that was draining her energy. After the incredibly awkward meeting with Patrick, Lyria discovered that Hilda had a drill session lined up. Sure Lyria knew her stuff about drill and was quite capable of handling her own squadron for drill, she was informed that Hilda decided to change some things up. That left Lyria completely clueless as to what the commander had intended and that left her to improvise.
“Squadron, attention! Squadron, cartwheel!” Lyria said under pressure after the soldiers had fallen in.
For the rest of her life, she would regret that order. The looks on the soldiers' faces alone were enough for Lyria to almost admit who she really was.
“Um Commander, did we hear you correctly?” A soldier asked, raising his hand.
“Yes - and on second thoughts, I have realized we are wearing armour for this drill session so um.. it would be nearly impossible to cartwheel in armour.” Lyria replied, desperately scrambling to cover her tracks with a good explanation. “This we will practice another time so for now we can try the handstand.”
Then she realized, she was probably expected to demonstrate. Was Hilda capable of doing a handstand or was Lyria about to damage Hilda’s reputation over the most ludicrous of unnecessary things?
It was too late to turn back out now. Lyria pulled off her borrowed iron gloves so she could have more traction in the snow. Getting her hands in position, she kicked upwards and hoped Hilda’s body could hold out. Fortunately Hilda’s muscles rippled with power as Lyria discovered she could still balance a handstand despite wearing armor, although she did choose to drop down before something went wrong.
“You see, that’s what true strength and discipline looks like.” Lyria said, finally achieving a proud smile that Hilda would occasionally wear instead of that mischievous grin she had worn earlier.
The soldiers were too stunned to laugh at what they had felt was a ridiculous manoeuvre at first. A few even clapped, impressed. And so Lyria was able to watch a whole squadron attempt handstands, which under normal circumstances, would’ve had her in hysterical laughter.
Nothing went unnoticed by Fegelin. He’d had Hilda confess she’d barely eaten anything and that’s why she was on the verge of fainting. As a result, she’d been assigned straight to the tavern for some late lunch.
Once she was served some stew and rye bread, she nearly shovelled down the food like a starving recruit. Knowing better, she slowed down before she gave herself indigestion. Halfway through a mouthful of bread, Officer Vimir came up to her table. He bent down to her level to be less intimidating, however Hilda took it as an insult.
“Ah Lyria, there you are. Lady Azura has been wondering where you’ve been. She needs help in the lab.” He said.
‘Oh of course Lyria’s mentor has tasks for her. At this point, is there anyone who doesn’t?’ She thought, slamming the spoon into her stew which caused it to splash a little over the table. “Give the kid a break.” She mumbled aloud by accident, and didn’t bother taking her eyes off her food.
“Having a rough day, huh?” Vimir chuckled, noticing her hunched posture and grumpy attitude.
Hilda didn’t reply. She was going to tear someone to pieces if she did. Instead she went back to eating after scowling at Vimir.
“Careful there Lyria, you almost got Commander Hilda’s infamous stare right. You might get done for, oh what’s the word you academics use if one scholar copies another’s work?” Vimir asked.
“Oh, I don’t know…” She said and then told herself that it was because she was actually Hilda.
“But you’re Lady Azura’s appren-”
Maya overheard the conversation, having been serving a nearby table so she interrupted Vimir. “I think you’re looking for the word plagiarism.”
Vimir thanked her and turned back to Hilda who was trying to stab the bread with a spoon. He gave her a reassuring smile.
“Alright then, no worries. I’ll tell your mentor that you’re having some food if I happen to see her before you do. I’m sure she’ll understand.” Vimir said, straightening up and turning to leave.
‘Stupid teenage hormones. I’ve got the lot that makes you grumpy, not super energetic and since anyone can be grumpy it gets minus points.’ Hilda grumbled to herself.
Then she decided she would try and sneak into her own office. All she had to do was write an order that gave ‘Lyria’ permission to go off duty early. Then no one could make her do anything else that day and she could actually dedicate time into working out what the deal with this body swap curse was.
The drill session had gone beyond Lyria’s expectations. Ironically, the squadron had requested for more sessions with Commander Hilda. But by far the most satisfying part had been when Lyria had pulled off a handstand in full armor when she was struck in Hilda’s body. Now she wanted to test the commander’s strength firsthand by going to the training gym, although first she wanted to change out of the armour because the constant scraping of metal in every movement was painfully annoying now. Maybe that’s why the commander was so grumpy all the time.
The gym was deserted when Lyria finally got there. A relief because no one could judge if she ended up making a fool out of Hilda. Lying on a mat, Lyria tried starting off with some push ups. She counted them. She got to her all time record - in her own body - but in Hilda’s she didn’t even feel any pressure on the muscles. That wasn’t a good enough test so Lyria rolled onto her back and started doing sit ups. Hilda’s core strength was immaculate and again Lyria didn’t even break a sweat.
Next Lyria moved onto the bar. Normally it was the bane of any of her training. It was vital for elytra soldiers as they needed to be able to easily lift their body weight onto a branch if they had issues with forest flying. Because Lyria had spent so many hours doing exercises with the bar, she had grown sick of it as her muscles would lock up and throb afterwards. But she wasn’t in her body now.
“Haha, look at me.” Lyria laughed to an empty gym, almost scared she would break the bar from Hilda’s body strength. “No wonder Commander’s so smug when she sees someone like me struggling. She’s built like a fortress!”
Curiosity was now driving Lyria. She wanted a real challenge. Then she spotted the bench press. She hesitated. Last time she used it, she’d dropped the weight on the side of her face. Was she really going to attempt it again, albeit in Hilda’s body?
‘Well I suppose I can start off light…’
She took the lightest weights but it was like lifting air so she selected something that felt more appropriate. She began lifting, however it was still without difficulty. Then she went heavier and heavier with the weights, until she was lifting an amount where she could finally feel the strain.
“Um, should you really be benching that much if you’re just by yourself?”
Lyria recognised Flint’s voice as he walked over to the bench press. She didn’t stop lifting as he waited for her answer.
“Why not? I don’t have a problem with these.” She said, smiling confidently.
He raised an eyebrow, although he chose to start his own workout instead of arguing with her. A good number of minutes passed when Lyria suddenly felt the all too familiar signs of fatigue. Naturally she went to place the weights on the rest rank above her head, however she found she couldn’t lift them at that angle. She panicked.
“Help!” She called, heart rate racing.
Flint stopped whatever he was doing and ran over to assist her. He realized immediately what the problem was.
“You see, Commander, these weights are too heavy for you to handle alone. Whatever would you’ve done had I not showed up?” He said, smiling smugly and carefully lifted the weights onto the resting stand.
Relieved, Lyria made a silent promise to herself to stay well away from the bench press as it was like a bad omen whenever she went near it.
One obstacle Hilda hadn’t guessed that would stop her from getting to her office was Nediar. He had raced up to her calling Lyria’s name as he wanted a sparring match. Apparently it had been agreed on by the two teens the other day. Exhausted, Hilda refused.
“Coward.” Nediar said, not budging.
Hilda’s pride had been crushed enough already and thus she wasn’t going to be called a coward. Well, technically he was calling Lyria one, however right now she was Lyria.
“Fine. One round.” Hilda snapped as Nediar led the way to the training arena.
Not wanting to guess how Lyria’s elytra blade worked, Hilda wisely took a spare training sword that was propped against the rack. Then she turned to face Nediar. He sprang forward. She skilfully blocked his blade. Applying her usual sword fighting tactics, she was doing a decent job considering she was tired. However, that was also her error. Most of her moves required strength, something Lyria’s body didn’t have. She failed to use the agility and speed it was designed for to her advantage.
Nediar’s strikes were enthusiastic and uncoordinated but that was starting to push Hilda back. With one good solid swing, he successfully knocked the sword from her hand. She lost her grip and slid on a mud patch, hiding under the snow.
“Do you yield?” Nediar smirked, pointing the tip of his sword at her chest.
There was no way she would yield to a teenager. She could feel herself going stiff at the thought.
“Aw, don't be a sore loser.” Nediar teased.
“Fine! I yield!” Hilda snapped and pulled herself off the ground. “You’ll regret this later.”
She could still hear him laughing as she walked away. It was shocking to see how few people respected Lyria by having to experience it for herself. When - if - she got her body back, she would make sure to stand up for Lyria wherever she could. With that said, she finally made it to her office, finally a familiar environment.
At first she prized open the door to check no one was there looking for the commander. The irony. Never did she think she would ever have to sneak into her office, let alone ‘forge’ a permission slip. Yet here she was, writing one that gave herself - Lyria - permission to go off duty early.
After hitting the gym, Lyria thought she would be able to grab some early dinner but some cavalry soldiers had other plans. Passing the stables, they waved her over. They informed her that Thunderstrike needed riding so that the mare could have some exercise.
Thunderstrike was infamous for her loyalty to Hilda. No one else could ride her without being thrown off. So when Lyria was pressured into riding her, she had shivers running down her spine.
None of the stable hands, who’d tack up the horse, knew that Lyria really wasn’t the commander. But Thunderstrike did. She sensed something was different and her ears flickered back as she tossed her head. Lyria was about to step back, however all eyes were on her. Feeling like she had no choice, she gripped the reins tighter and lifted a foot into the stirrup.
‘Please don’t let me ruin my cover or Commander’s reputation.’ She said to herself, hoping Thunderstrike could read her thoughts.
Thunderstrike tensed as Lyria swung the other leg over the saddle. Then she reared and pulled out of the man’s hand who’d been keeping her steady for her rider to mount.
“Hey what’s the matter with you?” He said loudly, trying to bring the horse back on all fours. “It’s Commander Hilda who’s got you!”
The mare didn’t listen - she knew the truth. Lyria held on by pressing her legs against the mare’s sides to get a grip. She assumed the mare would calm herself quickly, however Thunderstrike misinterpreted the pressure as a signal to go forwards. She was not going anywhere with another rider. In protest she bucked. The motion caused Lyria to lose footing and fall backwards off the saddle. As she fell, Thunderstrike back legs kicked back and hit her in the chest. It was all over when she hit the floor.
Thunderstrike had never meant to hurt Lyria. All she’d wanted was not to be ridden. Realising she had injured Lyria, Thunderstrike turned to nuzzle her to make sure she was alright. Several people had also rushed to Lyria’s aid. Apart from severe bruising to the chest, Lyria didn’t seem to have broken anything.
“Not…you’re…fault.” She managed to whisper to the horse despite being winded.
She felt herself slipping as someone pulled her away from under the arms. Quite a few were shouting about getting the commander to the infirmary. She watched helplessly as poor Thunderstrike was led back to her stall to be confined for safety reasons.
If Hilda had seen the Thunderstrike incident firsthand, she would’ve lost it in the heat of the moment. That horse meant a lot to her, however she would’ve been equally distressed about Lyria getting kicked by accident. Thankfully she was busy, trying to break into her own office.
When she’d entered she snatched her quill and a blank page. Time was of the essence, if she wasn’t to be caught. A cold coffee sat on the desk that someone had brought in thoughtfully. It was too tempting not to drink it while hastily scribbling down the crucial words she needed so she could go off duty. A glance upwards cost her everything. She wasted precious moments taking in the familiarity of her office and she risked sitting in the commander’s chair - her chair.
Footsteps. Hilda sprang out the chair, which caused it to tip over. The bang made the door fly open without a knock, as the person on the other side clearly wanted to check things were fine. Desperately, Hilda grabbed the permission slip as Azura came in. The ink was still fresh and smudged on her hand.
“Lyria, what are you doing sneaking around Commander Hilda’s office?” Azura demanded.
Stuck for words, Hilda stood there with the permission slip in hand.
“What’s that you’ve got there?” Azura asked, noticing the paper. “Been writing something have we?”
She snatched the paper before Hilda could pull it away or speak.
Azura read it aloud. She frowned. “So instead of helping me in the lab, I find you breaking into the commander’s office to forge a permission slip that lets you off duty early. I mean - look at this signature! It looks just like Commander Hilda’s. How many goes-”
A piece of paper tucked under the desk caught her eye. Hilda followed her line of sight and she too saw it. She wanted to slap herself for falling to notice it sooner. On it were several attempts to forge her signature that Lyria had used to fake her signature earlier. How could Lyria be so foolish as to leave it lying around? In fact, that made Hilda question just what affairs Lyria had gotten into and what did that mean for her as the commander later?
“Lyria, how many hours have you spent on this?” Azura asked, dragging Hilda out of her thoughts.
“Um…”
Azura didn’t wait to hear more. She grabbed Hilda by the collar. “You’re coming with me to the lab and you will complete your chores there.”
This absolutely humiliated Hilda. Here she was being scorned for something she would normally have every right to do. To make it worse, she was being reprimanded by Azura of all people! Both Azura and her were known for their rivalry, especially over who was the better military strategist. The idea that Azura was dragging her along like a child, almost made Hilda scream her real identity.
“Honestly Lyria, you could’ve created another incident between the commander and I. You know as your mentor I take responsibility for your actions. If someone else had caught you faking the commander’s signature then I’d likely be dragged into this and you know how unpleasant it is when you’re caught in the middle of a spat between the commander and myself.” Azura explained on the way to the lab.
‘Oh you have no idea.’ Hilda thought, biting her tongue to control her rising anger.
The rest of the way, she stayed silent while Azura listed all of Lyria’s routine tasks in the lab. Hilda lost track after hearing about filling gunpowder into bullets, stacking fireworks and distilling potions. The rest included terminology she didn’t have the knowledge for as a non scientist. That lack of understanding, worsened when they reached the lab. Azura kept giving her instructions and she was struggling to keep up, especially as her hesitation was mistaken for further laziness.
“Keep up, Lyria. Thanks to your earlier actions, we’re behind schedule. We have to make up for lost time.” Azura said as Hilda was struggling to find a metal container in a cabinet Azura had told her to retrieve.
Locating a container that was metal, Hilda took it, unsure if it was the desired one or not. “Got it.”
Not looking up from the workbench, Azura continued with the next instruction. “Ok now go over to the work top over there and grab the alkaline to pour into the container.”
Doing as she was told, Hilda walked over and stared at the various glass bottles. Each one had been labelled with letters, numbers and symbols. None of which meant anything to her. She picked up one with an amber written label that had the letters APH followed by a number she couldn’t tell if it was a one, two or five. Uncorking the bottle, she began pouring into the container.
“Now what do I do?” She asked.
“You know how to make a catalyst so I can abstract energy from the beacon or end crystal so weapons can be recharged.” Azura explained, becoming increasingly impatient with the lack of competence. “You’ve done it a hund-”
She was cut off by a scream. The liquid Hilda had been pouring had corroded through the container and was now burning the hand that had been holding it. Dropping everything, Azura ran to Hilda’s aid and instantly recognised what had transpired.
Azura shouted like a distressed mentor would out of concern. “What’d you touch the acid for? Alkalines are always marked in blue or purple with a high PH!”
“I don’t know!”
“Never mind, go and rinse your right hand under the tap!” Azura barked before Hilda touched the wound with the left hand and made things worse.
Splashing cold water over her hand, Hilda could see Azura frantically pulling things out of one of the cabinets.
“Damn it! Damn it! Damn it!” Hilda repeatedly cursed.
She didn’t dare use any foul language she’d normally use whilst trapped in Lyria’s body in front of Azura’s presence.
“How could you be so haphazard and make such a basic mistake. You know not to touch things you’re unsure of.” Azura said, grabbing hold of the wounded hand to pour a neutraliser over it.
Hilda was trembling from the pain. She’d experienced wounds and bruises on the battlefield but this was a new different kind of agony.
‘I will not cry.’ She told herself as the pain continued to spike.
Jaw clenched, she was afraid she might break a tooth.
“Oh Lyria, it’s ok. You can cry.” Azura said, now bandaging the hand. “Don’t be stubborn like the commander. You know you can show weakness when it’s to the right people. I think the commander’s built up pride has rubbed off on you. She’s a terrible influence in that regard.”
‘If only you knew.’ Hilda thought before she could no longer hold back the tears as she let out a long hiss.
She was actually crying in front of someone for the first time in many years. The hot burning sensation in her - Lyria’s - hand, blinded her from realising she’d gone cold. Azura had noticed while she’d been bandaging and explained she was frozen from the shock. Draping a blanket over Hilda’s shoulders, Azura escorted her out of the lab. There was only one place they were going - the infirmary.
When they reached the infirmary, Hilda saw Lyria ,in her body, passed out either unconscious or asleep on a bed in the main ward. Hilda didn’t get a chance to question it because she was rushed off into another room. There she had to face a furious Fegelin for the second time that day. While she listened to his lecture about ‘overexhustion and taking on more than one could handle’, at least Azura was a little more understanding why she’d attempted to write that permission slip.
Later on she’d been placed in the main ward with Lyria where she would be spending the night. During that time, Lyria awoke and explained she’d been submitted into the infirmary after being kicked in the chest by Hilda’s horse. Then Lyria questioned what Hilda was doing in the infirmary as well, so Hilda explained about the acid.
Giving each other death glances was enough for them to know that they were both upset that the other one had hurt their swapped bodies. They didn’t raise it aloud in case one of the night shift medics overheard. Still the tension in the air was more than unpleasant.
Morning came and both patients were feeling more than sorry for themselves. Nostra was the first on duty and asked what they wanted for breakfast. At least that was a positive thing, having Nostra give them an option rather than bring them some inedible food made up of the most bizarre of ingredients.
Starving and excited by the prospect of choosing her own breakfast, Lyria said that she wanted pancakes. Nostra raised an eyebrow but didn’t question why the commander made the unusual request.
“Coffee!” Hilda added, also forgetting she wasn’t in her own body but unlike Lyria, she corrected herself. “For the commander.”
‘For the commander?’ Lyria mouthed to Hilda while Nostra had their back turned.
Hilda shrugged back. Thankfully Nostra didn’t notice the silent communication. Instead they tapped their clipboard. “Ok then, now what would you be having?”
“Um…pancakes?”
Nostra managed to fetch a breakfast that would’ve normally been to their usual liking. They had brought hot chocolate and pancakes with syrup and chocolate for Lyria and coffee and pancakes with cheese and ham for Hilda. Thus they ended up with the wrong breakfast because Nostra didn’t know about the swap.
They glared jealously at each other as they were forced into eating food they didn’t want to eat, however they couldn’t say anything about it. Nostra watched as they ate slowly in silence.
“Don’t worry you’ll be feeling yourselves again soon enough.” Nostra assured.
Together they gave Nostra a stare strong enough to shatter glass. Nostra dismissed it with a chuckle and went to fetch their medication.
Shortly after breakfast, Patrick came by to check on the officers he’d been informed were injured. Upon entering the main ward, Lyria instinctively saluted in a move far too swift and energetic to fit Hilda’s personality. On the other hand Hilda just gave a curt nod of acknowledgement; a gesture that wasn’t appropriate for the lower rank of a captain. This out of place behavior was very much noticed by Patrick.
“Commander Hilda, Captain Lyria, are you feeling alright?”
Lyria was the first to answer. “No. It feels like my ribs are on fire, now that I’ve been up for a few hours.”
It was an honest answer but not one that the commander would give. Patrick hesitated as a result, although he did turn away from her gaze to Hilda. “And what about yourself?”
“I’m fine.”
This did get a reaction.
“You..re…fine?” Patrick said, choking on his words. “How many painkillers are you on?”
Hilda bit her tongue, realizing her mistake. Usually Lyria complained and occasionally exaggerated things to get out of doing duties, although Hilda could understand why she did that now. Still, Lyria wasn’t like her to be stubborn and endure pain. And Patrick knew that.
“Alright, I’m lying because I want to get out of here so I can repair my elytra and go flying again.” She said, hoping to cover up.
No way would Lyria be asking to leave the infirmary before Hilda had attempted to sneak out. It just didn’t make sense and Patrick wasn’t buying it.
“It’s like you two have switched personalities or something. You’ve both been acting weird ever since you were brought back from that skirmish.”
Unable to stop herself, Lyria let out a nervous laugh.
“Care to elaborate, Commander?”
For a moment she forgot her new role and out of habit, she stared over at Hilda, waiting for her to give the explanation. Hilda opened her mouth to speak and then thought that didn’t seem to fit Lyria but she’d already opened her mouth so she was going to have to improvise.
“You see my Lord,… it’s all my fault….During the battle I got distracted and was pushed away from the others. But Commander noticed and came to my aid.” She explained, flinching as she said Lyria’s infamous catchphrase that she hated.
Lyria caught onto the lie. “Yes, that's right…. If you didn’t keep your head in the clouds then, I wouldn’t have had to rescue you with it, leaving us both collapsing from exhaustion by the end of it.”
“That doesn’t explain the weird behavior.” Patrick said. “I honestly think you’ve swapped somehow.”
“Swap bodies? Oh that’s ridiculous, Sire.” Lyria said without thinking and then covered her mouth shut.
Patrick’s eyes went wide. “I never said anything about swapping bodies. I was just talking about personality but now that you’ve said it, why don’t you explain yourselves?”
“Don’t tell him, Lyria!” Hilda yelled out loud.
Looking between the two, Patrick came to his own conclusions. “So that over there is Captain Lyria and over here is Commander Hilda?”
He pointed to Lyria and Hilda respectively.
“Yes, my Lord.”
Massaging his temples, Patrick tried to process everything. “So how did this occur and I want the truth this time.”
“We don’t know. We’ve only been keeping it a secret as we feared someone might’ve done this as part of a bigger plan.” Hilda said, trying to scratch underneath her bandages as they were starting to irritate her.
Lyria nodded in agreement. “We’ve been more or less telling the truth about getting separated and then losing consciousness. We were like this when we woke up.”
“Well you’re not doing a very good job at pretending things are normal. First of all I have a commander wanting to give me a weather forecast in a financial discussion, come up with a bizarre training program and get kicked by seemingly her own horse.” Patrick said, glaring at Lyria.
In embarrassment she looked down at her arms and fiddled with the covers.
Patrick continued and stared over at Hilda. “Then on the other hand, I then have a captain running around without using an elytra, draining her energy to the point of almost landing in the infirmary from burnout. It gets even more interesting when I find out from her mentor that she spilt acid on herself and before that she was caught forging a permission slip in the commander’s office.”
In response Hilda turned red. She hadn’t expected that to come out. Across the room, Lyria was failing to mask a giggle unable to believe that the commander had been trying to fake her own permission slips. Seemingly she stopped her laughter because the movement jostled the bruised ribs. Hilda frowned disapprovingly.
“I never thought I would see the day when Commander Hilda forges her own signature to sign someone off duty.” Patrick finished.
He shook his head, however there was evidence he found it ironic and humorous from a small smile on his face. On the other hand, Hilda wanted to forget yesterday had ever existed, just for that alone, never mind the cursed swap.
“In my defence, I think Lyria’s overworked.”
Lyria jumped on that. “Or you’re admitting that I work just as hard as you do and it’s much harder to learn to do my jobs than it is for me to do yours.”
“Then explain about the new training plan, Lord Patrick mentioned you came up with. I’d love to know.”
Before they could get into an argument, Patrick slammed his foot down. The sound echoed through the infirmary. “Alright. Until we discover the cause or the cue, this is to be kept in the dark. That means I don’t want you attempting to do each other’s jobs and be suspicious, potentially ending up with more injuries.”
“So wait, we’re free to leave?” Hilda asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Of course not! I’m thinking long term because I don’t know how quickly we can solve this.” Patrick explained just as Nostra returned.
They were carrying a tray of medication and went over to Hilda first, thinking that she was Lyria and thus she would be the easier patient. Patrick watched in silence as Nostra offered a vile for her to drink. Would she drink it just to keep her cover? If so that was probably the only time Hilda would willingly take medication.
“What’s it taste like?” Hilda asked, eyeing it suspiciously as she held it up.
“Medicine.” Nostra said, bluntly.
Stepping forward, Patrick was hoping to get her to drink it without resistance. “Common Captain, you know how much better you’ll feel.”
That was exactly something one would say to Lyria. Hilda shot him a betrayed look. She was going to regret this. Closing her eyes, she attempted to drink the vile as quickly as possible. It was disgustingly sweet with a burning sensation. Shaking her head in displeasure, she placed the empty glass on the tray. Both Patrick and Lyria were stunned.
“Here you must take these as well.” Nostra added, shoving a couple of tablets into her hand.
Normally she’d play difficult and pretend she was fine but she’d already taken the vile willingly so what difference did it make? She took the tablets and swallowed them down with some water Nostra provided. Oh how she couldn’t wait to be back in her own body.
Taking the tray, Nostra walked over to Lyria, still assuming she was the stubborn commander. “Please don’t be difficult today.”
Internally Lyria smirked. She was going to enjoy this. As Nostra offered the vile, she turned away and carefully crossed her arms to avoid touching the bruised ribs.
“I’m not taking that. You can’t make me.”
Across the room, Hilda winced seeing Lyria pull off a very stubborn scowl in her body. Finally Hilda could appreciate how silly she looked whenever she refused medical treatment.
“Doctor’s orders outweigh yours.” Nostra said, trying to hand over the vile again.
“Not drinking it.”
Fed up, Patrick decided to end this charade. “Nostra. They have swapped bodies.”
Nostra froze. They couldn’t believe what they just heard. Lyria, realising the game was up, grabbed the vile and drank it to get it over with quickly.
“You must be right as the commander would never do that.” Nostra said as Lyria stuck a tongue out and pulled a face after swallowing the medicine.
“You could’ve told Nostra straight away! You tricked me into taking the medication!” Hilda snapped at Patrick before noting how childish she was being, especially given that she was shouting in Lyria’s high pitched voice. “Apologies, my Lord.”
Acknowledging, he gave her a nod. Then Nostra stepped in, holding a needle in their hand.
“I’m going to check your blood. I want to see the extent of the swap and double check it's just consciousness that’s been changed. Again I can check for potion makers and work out a cure.” They said, kneeling besides Lyria.
Somewhat reluctantly, Lyria allowed Nostra to insert the needle. It stung a little but not enough for her to react.
“May I have your blood type for your own body?” Nostra asked her.
“B positive."
“How can anyone be positive about this situation?” Hilda demanded, misunderstanding what Lyria had said.
Coughing into their mask, Nostra was able to hide a laugh. “That’s a blood type, Commander. I think I’ll check your medical records for your blood type as I don’t think science is your thing.”
They glanced at the hand Hilda had burnt with the acid. Ashamed, she averted their gaze and remained silent. That was until Nostra approached her with a needle. Instinctively she tried to leap out of bed.
“Hold still.” Nostra said, grabbing hold of her. “Give me your arm or rather Lyria’s arm.”
Hilda had no intention of being reasonable now. She protested and tried to free herself from Nostra’s grip.
“You’ve suffered worse in battle.” Nostra assured her.
Patrick tensed his shoulders. The commander was always the last person he wanted to see in the infirmary because she was an impossible patient. Today was no longer an exception. As Nostra inserted the needle, Hilda pulled away and the jerk caused the needle to pick more than intended. She screamed and Nostra tried to keep her arm steady as more blood poured out the more she moved.
“There, done!” Nostra said, placing a plaster over the puncture. “It wouldn’t have hurt if you’d kept still.”
Then they went to leave into the back rooms, muttering something about how Hilda was the patient all the doctors collectively agreed was the worst. Lyria wanted to comment on that, however Patrick shot her a warning look.
He stayed for a while longer to discuss the next steps of action before he had to carry out his duties. That left the ward empty for a while. The silence caused Lyria to fall asleep, while Hilda continued to try to scratch the burn under her bandages. She felt guilty slightly that Lyria was allowing her body to recover, while she was probably sabotaging Lyria’s recovery by rubbing the bandages. Despite this she struggled not to as they itched tremendously and to top that she was incredibly bored. It was only a damaged hand so why did she have to spend the day in the infirmary?
A minute passed. And another. She began aggressively tapping a foot on the end of the bed. The itch flared. The temptation to remove the bandages was strong. Perhaps she could walk around the ward as a distraction. No one said she was banned from doing so, only that she couldn’t leave.
Swinging her legs off the bed, she stood and suddenly felt sore cramps in her legs. Clearly that was the consequence of her running around non stop yesterday. Maybe she did need rest or maybe she could pace around for a bit and make herself tired enough to sleep through the day and the boredom.
Slowly she began patrolling the ward as though she was inspecting a battalion. Ignoring the cramps, she inspected the room for hazards or anything out of place. She didn’t find any in the well organised environment. It irked her and her attention was brought back to scratching the bandages as she walked. She couldn’t resist any longer and she began ripping off the bandages in order to scratch the itch.
“Captain Lyria, what are you doing out of bed?” Doctor Felegin yelled, upon arriving to start his shift.
Quickly, she hid the unbanaged hand and made her way back to her bed, not wanting to draw too much attention. Unfortunately, Felegin didn’t trust her.
“You know you nearly collapsed from burnout yesterday. Now tell me what it was you were doing. I won’t be cross if it was for a good reason.” He said nicely to her as he came over to the bedside.
“I wanted to fetch someone to redo my bandages cause they um.. fell off.”
She held out her hand and knew he didn’t believe a word of that. To her surprise he was sympathetic and retrieved some fresh bandages for her.
“There we go, Lyria. Please don’t move the bandages again. I’m only harsh because I’m concerned about your health.” He said, tying a knot by her wrist.
‘Oh I see how it is. You’re more lenient towards Lyria cause she’s a teenager but I’m not allowed to bend the rules as a commander.’ She thought crossly to herself.
“Where’s Nostra? There should be at least one person on duty here at all times.”
Hilda pointed to the back doors. “In the back rooms.”
He looked past her at the doors. “I see. Thank you. I’ll talk with them. I’ll likely be back in a few minutes to watch the ward if Nostra is preoccupied.”
When he left, she found herself tapping the bandages against her lap as her mind raced for something to do. She tried focusing on the list of jobs she would need to complete if the swap was an easy fix. The soreness in her legs - technically Lyria’s - was making her lightheaded, forcing her to recall the list from the beginning.
By the time Felegin returned she was fast asleep with her head resting against the wall with only a pillow behind her back for support. He was tempted to lower her into a more comfortable position, although he decided he didn’t want to risk disturbing her. Hearing footsteps behind, he saw Nostra enter the ward. They had a clipboard in hand from the earlier blood tests. Seeing the patients sleeping they chose to inform Patrick of the bad news while Felegin monitored the infirmary.
The two patients were enjoying their lunch as Felegin by pure coincidence brought them a meal they both agreed on. The only thing that Patrick noticed was that there was a mug full of untouched coffee on Lyria’s tray, which was quite amusing. Felegin was writing some notes down on a patient clipboard when he saw the grandmaster. He greeted him and decided to give him some space to talk with his officers.
“Unfortunately, Nostra hasn’t found anything unusual in the blood so they can’t determine a cause or search for a cure.” Patrick informed them.
Misery fell on the room. Hilda tapped the fork on the plate. The sound was irritating but no one wanted to stretch her bad mood further. Her damaged pride had done that already in the last day and a half.
“My Lord, why don’t you give her this?” Lyria said quietly, offering the mug of coffee. “It’s still warm.”
The clinking of metal on the plate continued as Hilda’s thoughts were elsewhere. She was trapped in a teen’s body with reduced height and strength. Almost everyone thought she was Lyria and so the respect and rank had decreased. Her movements were restricted to the infirmary and to top it off there was no solution, despite a couple of people now informed of the problem. To top it off, she’d woken up from a nightmare about this after she’d dozed off earlier.
She was about to bend the fork out of shape when a mug of coffee landed on her tray. Lifting her head, she saw that Patrick had placed it there. She smiled faintly as a means of saying thanks. It faded fast as she found herself thinking negative thoughts again. She consequently sipped her coffee in silence.
A few minutes later, Captain Irom entered the unusually quiet infirmary. He was carrying a box in his hands. Upon seeing Patrick, he saluted, still holding the box with his left hand. “Good afternoon, Sire.”
“Captain Irom, what brings you here?” Patrick asked.
“I’ve come to deliver something for Nostra that I retrieved on one of - hold on, is that Lyria drinking coffee?” He said, seeing the coffee. “Huh, I guess you really must be feeling burnt out.”
“Mhm.”
“Well I better put this in the back for when Nostra returns.” He said, hoping he wouldn’t have to explain, he had a severed arm of a zombie inside the box for Nostra to research with.
Without hesitation, he made his leave before the stench could reach anyone’s nose. Having disappeared through the doors, Patrick was about to speak when Lance teleported onto an infirmary bed.
“I don’t think pets are allowed here.” Lyria said, noticing the gorf appear on the bed next to hers.
Hilda was unbothered, having seen him before, however Patrick didn’t appreciate his presence. “How long have you been lingering?”
Raising his head, Lance replied. “Long enough.”
“I hate how I have no control of your movements or what knowledge and information you are to hear.” Patrick complained, folding his arms and glaring at Lance.
“Do you want my advice or not? Better make it quick before that Doctor Felegin comes back and throws me out or that plague doctor shows up and gets the opportunity to add me to their collection of specimens.” Lance said, checking before doors before refocusing on Patrick.
“Fine. Enlighten us.”
If a gorf could smirk, then that’s what Lance would’ve done. “Science isn’t going to fix the problem regardless of what the plague doctor thinks. The cause of the swap is simple. It is a similar spell to that of how my consciousness was transferred to a gorf. This is slightly different as whoever did this only swapped your consciousness, not having one override another. Likely the mage that did this, wanted to sabotage the commander’s ability to command. It was probably an easier option than capturing or killing her.”
“Well their plan is working.” Hilda huffed.
Ignoring her comment, Patrick asked how they could reverse the spell.
“Simple. All you need is a mage and an end crystal. You have both, thanks to Lady Stella.” Lance said as a matter of fact.
“Then why are you still a frog?” Lyria asked.
“He’s a gorf!” Both Patrick and Hilda corrected.
He was pleased by the recognition of the species. “Yes, well, that’s more complicated. I don’t have a body to transfer back to but you two do so that’s that. So solution found. All you need now is to get Lady Stella, the crystal and have me teach the spell to her.”
Patrick didn’t need to be told twice afterwards. The sooner his officers were back to normal, the sooner he could end the risk of them being a public hazard in the wrong bodies. He was willing to try listening to the gorf even if he didn’t know the gorf’s name or identity.
“Ok I’ll go and fetch Lady Stella and the crystal. Just make sure you turn up if you decide to teleport off somewhere while I’m gone.” He said to Lance and then looked at his officers. “As for you two, don’t get into trouble before I get back.”
With that said and agreed on, he headed out. Now all they could do was wait. And wait.
After what felt like eternity, Patrick returned with Stella holding the end crystal. She wasn’t the only one who’d been brought to the infirmary. Azura also came through the doors, presumably because Patrick had encountered her when retrieving the crystal. She didn’t jump when Lance appeared on a bed out of nowhere. Clearly she’d been brought into the loop on this catastrophe.
“Looks like you got your permission slip to skip duty after all, Commander.” She teased in greeting, while Stella set down the crystal carefully.
‘Don’t.’ Lyria mouthed, knowing that Hilda’s patience had already worn thin.
If Lyria wasn’t laughing then clearly someone was in a bad mood. Azura quickly straightened up but not before something went snap and clattered on the floor. All heads turned in the direction of the noise. On the floor was half a fork that Hilda had confiscated for herself after lunch. It appeared she’d used the bed frame as leverage to snap the fork, giving that she was one handed in Lyria’s weaker frame. How Felegin missed leaving such a dangerous object lying in a patient’s reach, was a mystery.
“Let’s get this over with before I’m impaled by a flying fork.” Lance said and he began to instruct Stella on how to proceed.
Patrick bent down and seized both pieces of the fork in case Hilda got any more ideas. Stepping back, Azura stood behind a bed next to Lyria, a safe distance away. They whispered a few things and were very aware of not letting Hilda overhear.
“Ok I think I’m ready.” Stella announced.
“You think?” Hilda repeated, looking like she might snap again.
Patrick motioned with his hand for her to lower her voice and turned to Stella. “You have to be certain. I’m not having them turned into an experiment.”
“But I like-”
Azura tapped Lyria on the hand before she finished that sentence. She wisely chose not to.
Stella stepped forward with the crystal and told everyone to move back apart from Hilda and Lyria. She then reassured everyone that she was absolutely ready. Closing her eyes, the crystal hovered in front of her, freeing up her hands. She began chanting the spell in her head. Hilda rolled her eyes, doubting this would work when the crystal began to light up the room with its glow brightening by the second. She was going to comment that it wasn’t working after a few minutes when nothing else happened, however she started to feel sleepy. Looking over at Lyria, it seemed she’d already passed out or she was just lying down after a long day and after a dull magic display of a glowing crystal. Either way Hilda remained unimpressed. Then her vision blurred and she felt herself slipping. She pushed herself further against the wall to prevent herself from swaying.
“Lie dooowww-”
She didn’t get to finish hearing whoever was shouting, when she fell forwards and her head landed on the blanket.
The crystal stopped glowing and Stella relaxed, seemingly finished with the spell. Her eyes returned from pure white light to their original blue color. She looked at the two unconscious patients. “You didn’t say they would pass out afterwards.”
Lance remained indignant. “You never asked. Besides, they'll wake up shortly, provided they weren’t exhausted when the spell started.”
“Well I’m not nudging them awake. I don’t know who’s who and I certainly don’t want to face Commander Hilda waking up and attacking me like I’m an enemy from her nightmares. Better to let sleeping soldiers lie.” Azura said.
That didn’t please Patrick very much. He was about to give the gorf a piece of his mind but then he heard someone bolt upright.
“Mmm my ribs. Guess Thunderstrike really did bash them in badly.”
He turned to the speaker. “Commander?”
“That would be me.” Hilda replied, relieved to be back in her own body.
Despite the bruising, she didn’t feel tired at all, although she supposed that was because Lyria had given her body time to recover by resting the entire morning. Being mindful of her ribs, she attempted to sit up and try to climb out of bed.
“Commander!” Patrick scorned.
Azura sighed. “At least she’s sabotaging her own recovery this time. Though maybe we shouldn’t have bothered swapping you back yet because at least under the pressure of pretending to be Lyria, you couldn’t just get up and wander around Dreadfort as that doesn’t fit her personality.”
“Hilarious.” Hilda replied, sarcastically but Azura did catch a half smile as the commander was just pleased to be back to normal.
She then went over to Lyria and knelt by her bedside. Gently shaking a shoulder, she called out to her. She didn’t stir.
“Lyria?” Azura called out, testing her responsiveness by pinching an ear. “Cap? Captain chaos?”
Her eyes fluttered open but they were glazed over by exhaustion. She didn’t seem to respond to her nicknames.
“Ria? Hummingbird? Say something.”
A small whine escaped her throat as she buried her head further under the covers. Everyone visibly relaxed, spare Hilda who was feeling incredibly guilty for spending up Lyria’s entire energy reserve.
“Mmm…noo more…financial reporting.” Lyria muttered in her sleep.
Patrick laughed. “Don’t worry, you can hand that responsibility back to Commander Hilda.”
Hilda went to stand up. “In that case, I better-”
“No! Both of you are remaining until you are discharged. If you’re lucky Nostra will let you go in the morning, although no physical activity until your ribs heal, commander.” Patrick said, narrowing his eyes in scrutiny. “I’ve managed to end one headache, I don’t need another.”
Stella and Azura covered their mouths as they tried not to snort as Hilda grumbled, reluctantly letting her head rest on the pillow.
“Please keep this drama secret.” She begged before closing her eyes.
While no one had any intention of sharing, Patrick doubted Lyria would stay quiet about it now that it was over. But that was her lookout if she wanted to play with Hilda’s temper. For now his officers were back to normal and his focus was on making sure that mischievous mage didn’t try to swap anyone else in his army.