Chapter Text
The journey to Trosky Castle had proven a hundred times more grueling than anticipated, but Henry and Hans had, at long last, seen the mission through. No sooner had they settled in than Hans threw himself into the courtesies and conversations of Lord von Bergow and the other nobles.
Henry, not being of noble birth, had no place in such gatherings. His days were filled with sword practice and aimless wandering through the castle’s vast halls. He longed for Hans to secure von Bergow’s alliance soon, so they could finally return home.
The castle was grand, certainly, but its novelty faded after days of wandering. Besides, the cooks and stewards had shared tales of demons haunting the castle, though Henry suspected these were merely stories concocted to frighten outsiders, as he had never encountered anything unusual.
As dusk fell, Henry began searching for Hans. He hoped the nobles’ tedious activities had concluded.
Then a faint sound caught his ear—a low, persistent noise. He followed it, stopping before a firmly shut door.
Curiosity piqued, he pressed his ear against the wood. Inside came hissing and tapping, mingled with a man’s whisper. Henry suddenly recalled the haunting rumors—could they be true?
Henry was intensely curious about what lay within. If demons were indeed present, and he managed to resolve the situation somehow (despite having no experience in such matters), it would undoubtedly impress von Bergow and strengthen the potential for an alliance. He needed to sneak a peek, at the very least to confirm whether there were demons.
He pushed the door gently. It didn’t yield. Drawing out his lockpicks, he worked the mechanism with practiced ease. Taking a deep breath, he eased the door open a crack and peered inside.
A man in a red coat stood alone within. Henry stared at the profile for several seconds before recognizing Black Bartosch, von Bergow’s knight. The room appeared otherwise normal.
Maybe Bartosch was just some kind of weirdo who liked to talk to himself.
As Henry was about to close the door and leave, Bartosch suddenly whipped his head around, locking eyes with Henry.
The knight gasped. A dull thump echoed in the chamber, and suddenly Henry was engulfed in a cloud of thick smoke. When it cleared, he stood where Bartosch had been moments before. And there, in the doorway, wearing his own face, was a figure staring back in wide-eyed shock.
Henry screamed.
The other “Henry” slipped inside immediately and shut the door.
Henry lunged toward the door, instinctively reaching for his sword only to grasp at air. In desperation, he swung his fist directly at the familiar face. The “Henry” before him staggered backward, his back slamming against the door panel with a dull thud.
Good. Confidence surged through Henry. Whatever this thing was, it could be hurt. If he kept attacking, he could defeat it. Then he had to find Hans to warn him that this damned castle truly was cursed!
Without hesitation, he swung again, only to be blocked.
The demon with Henry’s face gripped his wrist tightly, shouting in his voice, “Henry! Calm down! Please listen to me! Our bodies have just swapped!”
Henry didn’t understand what this meant. All he knew was that the demon looked exactly like him and could speak. He needed to find Hans, and warn von Bergow and his steward... Just as he tried to break free and strike again, he saw the reflection in the demon’s breastplate: it was Bartosch’s face.
“What have you done! You...” The voice that burst out was utterly unfamiliar.
“Henry, it’s me! Bartosch! We just swapped bodies—”
“What the hell are you talking about!”
“I was practicing magic, Henry. It just went a little wrong! You have to believe me!”
Henry looked back at the breastplate. In the reflection, Bartosch, clad in his red coat, stared back in utter shock.
Henry slowly lowered his fist, halting his attack. Seeing this, Bartosch hastily began to explain. He said he had been secretly practicing magic. Startled by Henry, the spell had gone awry, causing the unexpected swap of their bodies. He begged Henry to keep this secret, repeatedly assuring him it wasn’t irreversible: he’d encountered similar situations before, and as long as they waited a few days, the magic would fade, and their bodies would automatically revert.
“Hardly anyone believes in magic. If I told others, they’d think I was mad or arrest me as a heretic, claiming I’d made a pact with the devil!” Bartosch said. “You understand why I must practice in secret and why I’m asking you to keep this between us, right?”
Henry still couldn’t believe him, yet their body swap was the clearest proof magic existed.
“Do me a favor. We only need to live as each other for a short while. No one will suspect! Just a few days, and everything will return to normal. As thanks, I’ll teach you combat skills—”
“I don’t believe you,” Henry cut him off. “Why should I help you hide this?”
“If you don’t, I’ll have no choice but to inform Lord von Bergow that I caught his guest picking locks in his castle. And remember, if I’m executed, you’ll be trapped like this. Forever.”
Henry was speechless.
“I suppose I have no choice,” Henry conceded, “but I need to look after Sir Hans...”
“Don’t worry about your lord,” Bartosch assured him. “He's in the castle—no danger there. Even if something happened, my abilities could protect him.” At Henry’s dubious look, he added, “I’ve served many lords, you really needn’t doubt my abilities.”
“Can’t we just tell Sir Hans?”
“Does he study magic too?”
“No, I don’t think so.”
Bartosch took a deep breath. “Then why bother Sir Hans to relay it to Lord von Bergow?”
Henry thought for a moment, then realized what Bartosch was implying.
“He won't! He won't do that—”
“He is your lord! Not some close friend you share secrets with! Once you tell him about magic, he’ll believe you’re possessed by demons. He’ll have you tried as a heretic. Every lord only wants normal squires or servants. Do you think he’d keep you in his service then?”
Henry relented. “Fine. We tell no one. We wait.”
Relief washed over Bartosch’s—over Henry’s—face. “Thank you, Henry.”
Few in the castle knew Henry well, and Hans was too preoccupied to pay him close attention. Bartosch could pass as him easily. As for Henry playing the knight? Bartosch claimed it required little: walk the grounds, nod politely, avoid deep conversation.
“To be safe,” Bartosch added, “we should keep to ourselves. There’s little happening in the castle now. We can spend our days training together. It’ll help us stay in character.”
“You sound experienced,” Henry said.
“As I said,” Bartosch replied, “this is not the first time.”
But for Henry, it was a first.
As Bartosch, he had no reason to search for Hans, so he didn’t. When night fell and he pushed open his own door as usual, he saw Henry staring back at him in the candlelight.
It wasn’t a dream. He had truly become someone else.