Oh no. The very first thing you see is a large, curving swell where your chest should be, encased in a blue silk bodice and white linen chemise. Beyond your puffed sleeves, you see slender hairless arms. Gulping, you bend a bit to look past what can only be breasts, to see a narrow waist expanding into a white skirt that hides your lower body.
With all these people around, you aren't going to feel your crotch. But given what you can see, and the feeling of emptiness between your legs, you are pretty sure you've turned into a girl.
And not just any girl. As if the colourfully embroidered clothing you can see isn't enough of a clue, you have a golden, bejewelled necklace on, you can feel studs in your ears and the weight of a tall henin on your head -- you can just see the white silk veil falling from it in the edges of your vision.
A princess? That's your guess. Some kind of noblewoman, definitely. You look back at the surrounding people, your heart pounding. Maybe it's not all bad -- maybe you can leverage your apparent high station to forestall any trouble.
The murmuring subsides a bit as a pudgy man with a sparse black beard and mustache pushes through the crowd. He looks to be someone important, dressed in black velvet trimmed in gold, a gold chain around his neck. His eyes goggle a bit as he stares at you, then he approaches.
"Are you Princess Aerys of Camael?" he bursts out, appearing to be torn between relief and amazement.
"I, uh..." You trail off. As far as you know, you are Alex Greene of America. However, the name the man called suddenly seems... familiar. Like maybe it is your name.
"...Yes?" You decide to play along. Odd feelings or not, it's better to be taken for a princess than a particularly vain witch, you think.
"Oh, thank the gods." He bobs in a quick bow. "Forgive-me-Highness-let-me-introduce-myself-I'm-Leofric-Richardson-Lord-Mayor-of-Castrumiel." He spews several sentences as if they were one word, then takes a deep breath. "What happened, Your Grace? We feared you were dead!"
Dead? You blanche.
"I... I can't... remember." You bite your lip. It's the best you can come up with -- you really don't think the truth would work. To your relief -- and surprise -- the man seems to accept this.
"Curses and damnation! More dark magic?" He sighs in frustration. "What can you remember, Your Highness?"
"Um..." Your mind races. You're committed now, so you need to try to play the part of an amnesiac princess. "N-not much. I'm afraid. I..." You realise this could be useful, so you decide to press it. "I'm not even sure why I'm here."
Oh gods." He rubs his brow. "Well, at least I can tell you that. You're here..."