《Fredro DeTwix》 Introduction Fredro DeTwix stood out amongst the nobility in the hall. It wasn¡¯t his clothing - that dishonor belonged to the usual suspects from House Hershey, nor was it his demeanor - few would enjoy being mentioned in the same breath as the Ochers. No, it was the terrifying exoticism of his existence. Maybe it was because of his hair - evenly divided between the distinct obsidian of the DeTwix family and the polished pearl that stained it, or perhaps his eyes - predatory, primal, ready to pounce at any time - the mark of his curse. He didn¡¯t know, and nobody deigned to answer his questions. And frankly, he didn¡¯t care. The less time he spent in the spotlight, the better. Everyone knew how this charade went, and he¡¯d play along at first. The challenge was escaping before Act Two - a feat that may leave even the Great Escapist herself awestruck. But for this dance of fate to commence, the music must start playing. This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience. ¡°Entering the hall now, also of house DeTwix: Reese Chocco DeTwix, first of his name, heir to house DeTwix; Roderick Almerd Detwix, second of his name; Frederika Roslyn DeTwix, seventh of her name; and Fredro DeTwix! May the Aboves smile on this house.¡± Gods, Fredro hated these introductions. He dreaded all of this. The superficial smiles hiding the crocodiles and demons plaguing his soul; this brief respite from Hell invited a deeper damnation tomorrow. But this time would be different. This time, he would disappear into the night. Tonight, Fredro DeTwix would die. Tonight, a butterfly of his skin would take to the skies! Tonight, or never. Tavern Visit Douglas thought they had seen everything over their 20 years running the Weary Traveler. But, as many of their fellow cynics would happily attest, that¡¯s precisely when life - in its infinite bitchiness - develops a sense of humor and proves just how wrong you are. And today was that day. Most patrons fell into one of three categories. The regulars, who could go anywhere else in town but trusted him enough to give them good booze. The travelers consisted primarily of adventurers and merchants. And the oddballs usually only appear once every few months or so. Today¡¯s oddball was the second this week - noteworthy but not yet quite a chart-topper. The Traveler came in on a rainy night - what was it with weirdos coming in late on rainy nights? He came in, bought a room, and sat down in a dark corner of the tavern. Another thing that had always bothered Douglas over the years: Why do those weirdos always sit in the one dark corner of the tavern? And why was there always one such corner? Even when installing mirrors on every surface - it was a lost drunken bet made with another memorable patron. Very enlightening, no pun intended, and very expensive - there was a dark corner at the back of the tavern! Anyways, this one came in and sat in the weirdo corner with his ale, and Douglas waited for the inevitable. Right on cue, Tweedle-Dum and Tweedle-Dee sauntered to ¡°interview¡± the newcomer. ¡°So, stranger. What¡¯s your story?¡± Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit. ¡°We¡¯s noticed yous aint exactly be from around these parts.¡± The assailants ignored the slow head turn, but the response sent chills through Douglas¡¯ thick hide. ¡°I have nothing to tell you. Nothing that you couldn¡¯t hear without you dying, along with anyone else who listens. Now scamper, leach off some local drunkard, and leave me alone.¡± The response alone was standard. But the voice¡­ It was haunting. Somehow, it felt like three individuals were speaking all at once. The first was a velvety male voice, the sort you instantly felt safe near. The second was angelic; soothing. The final layer was gruff, guttural, and disturbing. Douglas¡¯ eyes met the traveler¡¯s, and they finally understood what the adventurers meant when they spoke about experiencing paralyzing bloodlust. As the cowl finally dropped, all breath ceased. Between the craven yellow eyes and the unnatural two-toned hair - were those the beginnings of fangs showing behind the upper lip? - Something was just¡­ off. The clothes were those of high nobility, but the shoulders carried the weight of multiple worlds, and the face¡­ war-torn and permanently frowning. The stranger somberly strolled to the bar, paid his tab, and went upstairs to retire for the night. He departed sometime in the premorning, but nobody knew exactly when. As far as the oddballs go, this one was nothing to discuss regarding actions taken. No liches or demonic possessions tonight, thank the gods. But there was something incorporeal setting off alarm bells. Something that would hopefully remain unanswered for a long, long time. The other thing that cynics will tell you is that if something should remain unknown, life absolutely has other plans for it. First Patroll This is not what he expected to happen on his first mission as a member of the city guard. He was supposed to protect the city from the filth that lined the streets every night, save a girl or two, and have them confess their undying love to him on the spot! He was supposed to get familiar with all the local shopkeepers and carry a sword on his hip - not lie on the ground in a mangled mess, releasing oceans of crimson onto the cobbled streets while the heavens lamented the tragedy before them! But there he was: bitten, scratched, bleeding out. His vision was slowly falling out of focus - there wasn¡¯t much time left. Even if he survived, his life would probably be ruined. There was little love for the Lycanthropes of this city, and a bite was often all it took to be thrust into their ranks. Frankly, it was better to die than live an outcast¡¯s life, especially when your family hated you for most of your life. He vaguely felt the rumble of armored boots approaching his location - not like he cared anyway. His time was up. The muffled voices comforted him that his death wasn¡¯t in vain, that he was respected and honored among his comrades, even if he only joined last week. Everything faded to black and then came back into focus. Fuck. ¡°I think he¡¯s coming around. Make sure the restraints are secured, and then fall back! We don¡¯t know if he has the curse!¡± Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel. The atmosphere in the room was thick enough to cleave with a dull stick, but nobody had the time or presence to break the tension. However, there was no need to do so, as the young soldier realized he was not only alive but also restrained to his bed. ¡°Wha- what¡¯s going on? Why am I in bed? And why am I tied down? I thought I was dead!¡± A well-dressed superior officer from within the guard stepped forward and read from a scroll: ¡°Private Fredro DeTwix, you came into contact with a Lycanthrope criminal on patrol three weeks ago and fell in the line of duty. You were found nearly dead at the scene, with bite and scratch marks all over your body. It is a miracle you¡¯re even alive now; bless the Aboves for their kindness. Due to the nature of Lycanthropy, you are to be restrained in this bed until we can confirm whether or not the curse of the Lycanthrope afflicts you. If you are found not to be afflicted, you may resume your duties in the Guard and will be promoted. If you are afflicted, you will be discharged immediately and dealt with according to the wishes of your next of kin. Do you have any questions?¡± The confused Fredro Detwix couldn¡¯t even formulate a coherent thought. This was the worst fate possible; their life was as good as over. Of course, he had plenty of questions, but he couldn¡¯t ask anything before the emissary of doom left the room. Baptism Even for the most devout clerics, communication with the Aboves happens, at most, thrice throughout their lives. The burden of the mere gaze of the Aboves, much less the full attention, is so burdensome that most mortals - and even some demi-divine individuals - instantly go insane. But as is the case for every known law, it¡¯s far from an airtight rule. The youngest of House DeTwix was the most recent example of these exceptions. Shortly after birth, the children of the nobility are taken to Cathedral Square, where they are baptized and given an initial quest for their life. It''s considered a ceremonial affair, as the quest is invariably something along the lines of: ¡®Grow into a respectable young man/woman.¡¯ But this baptism was special. The contingency of House DeTwix watched in horror as the Baptism of Light - their family¡¯s chosen baptism for twenty generations and counting - was rejected by their youngest son. Desperate, they inquired at the other cathedrals in the square, but each was unable to baptize the newborn boy properly. Eventually, the only remaining option was to begrudgingly inquire at the Cathedral of The Night, the antithesis of their family¡¯s tradition. The Night and The Light have seemingly been at odds since time immemorial. One was the bastion of wealth, riches, hard work, and life, while the other was the guardian of rest, dark activities, and death. All who worship The Light are taught that The Night is never to be trusted, while the Night¡¯s worshipers are supposedly taught that the Light only cares about their wealth. Yet they were shocked to be welcomed as honored guests when they entered. The young DeTwix boy, who had yet to be named - as the naming is part of the baptism itself - was gently lowered into the murky depths of the obsidian bath. The water lit up with increasing intensity the more the infant was submerged until only the head remained above the water, and the lights turned corporeal, lifting the young baby and embracing him. This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. A servant of The Light blessed by The Night. a victim of the dark his symptoms shall be stark As the child was lifted, an unknown voice rang out throughout the cathedral, and the masses gathered chanted in reply: Change he shall bring, raise him well for all debts shall be paid at the toll of the bell The light¡¯s embrace of the child tightened, yet there was no panic except from the guests, unfamiliar with this specific rite. Slowly, the child was lowered as every voice in the cathedral joined together: A rocky road far from the beaten path alone, he must walk it or face the heaven¡¯s wrath rejoice! rejoice! for the champion is here one foot in the dark another in the light Fredro, his name shall be!