Awoo, ladies and gents! We are back with another Werewolf Friday! Let us see what happens to our roadtrip buddies in Burgundy. Enjoy!

For the briefest moment, everything was silent. The air felt thick and charged with electricity. Roman was a little lightheaded at the sudden shift. He blinked once, his entire body going tense in preparation for whatever would come next.

Then, there was chaos. Several members of the crowd drew weapons and surged forward. A few fainted. A couple immediately bolted down the path back toward the town. Out of everyone, only Wallace rushed to Roman and Barty's defense, jumping in front of the two and holding out his arms.

"Let me through, Wallace!" Martin the blacksmith growled, brandishing his mace.

"You just said you wouldn't attack a man unprovoked!" Wallace protested.

"That aint no man!"

"I assure you he is!" Roman called out over the screams. He felt Barty backing up a few steps. "Easy, my friend," he murmured.

"You're friends with a werewolf?!" someone shouted.

"My apprentices are all werewolves!" Roman snapped in reply.

This caused some people to pause. Martin gaped. "What?!"

"I just said that they all have the same condition," Roman said, exasperated. "Does no one listen to words anymore?" Relieved that the crowd was no longer surging forward, he took the opportunity to step back and touch Barty's arm. "You know this man, too. This is Bartholomew, the scholar. He's also been a werewolf for… How long has it been?"

Barty rumbled uneasily. Was now really the time to be holding up fingers? He honestly didn't want to put down Zwei to answer. The pup was the only thing keeping him from panicking. Why couldn't there be an omega here to calm everyone down?

"Well, the point is that he's been a werewolf for a long time," Roman continued. "And my 'apprentices' are actually werewolves who wish to establish an alliance between their pack residing in the forests to the north-west, and the town of Vale. By extension, they'd like to see a world where werewolves aren't killed on sight, and can actually interact with humanity. I chose to help them."

"Why would you agree to helping a pack of werewolves in the first place?" one of the traders wondered.

"Several reasons. For starters, I owed them a debt. Two of them saved my life and Neo's before we even were introduced," Roman explained, thinking back to that spring day when he and Neo had been attacked by bandits. He still remembered the shock that had gone through his body when he saw Flynt and Neon chasing the thieves away.

"Also, a close friend of mine had been turned into one by a truly vicious werewolf. That particular vicious wolf is dead, by the way. He was killed by my wonderful apprentices, doing the world a favor, just so you know." Roman folded his arms. "As you can see, they aren't inherently evil. There's good and bad in them, just like any person. I mean, Barty here could have easily attacked at any time."

There was some more uneasy muttering before someone asked: "Why is it holding a dog?"

"We're taking care of the dog for a friend. Not important." Roman waved a hand dismissively.

"One of those werewolves saved my life," Wallace asserted. "Remember Pyrrha? She's one of the werewolves, and she saved me as a wolf." He folded his arms. "So, I'd appreciate it if people would finally stop calling me a crazy old fool whenever I tell that story."

Martin had finally calmed down, and was squinting at the werewolf. Slowly, his brows went up as he finally took in the odd glasses and the color of the fur. "By the Maidens, it is Barty! You gave my daughter that book on herbal remedies."

Barty inclined his head, placing Zwei on the ground. He remembered Martin's daughter. She had been very interested in creating herbal poultices and studying medicine. Hesitantly, he allowed himself to go down on all fours and take a step toward the people. He noticed that Zwei didn't move from his side, and smiled a little.

A few stepped back, but most held their ground. Some recovered from their fainting spells and were just looking on with dazed looks on their faces. A few were glancing around nervously, but were still resisting the instinctual urge to run for their lives.

Wallace strode forward without hesitation and gave Barty's shoulder a light pat. "See? Totally harmless!" he asserted.

There was a bit of muttering as a few people chanced to move closer. A woman held out a trembling hand, which Barty sniffed politely before carefully taking in his large forepaw. He shook it once, then let go. The woman was shivering, but managed a shaky smile. More people started to come forward.

Roman let out a sigh of relief. That could have been really bad. I swear, I deserve a vacation after all this stress!

Then, Martin suddenly let out a shout. "Shit! Those people who ran back to town probably gathered a mob by now!"

Barty whimpered, his ears drooping as he wondered if he'd have to bolt into the woods after all.

"Easy, now," Roman murmured. "We can't back down. Turn back into your human form and put on your clothes. I have an idea."

Barty gave him a skeptical look, but obeyed, disappearing back into the trees.

The traders approached Roman. "I heard some rumors coming from Obsidian," one admitted. "Thought it was just a crazy story to try and get people to buy more of their silver."

"Are any of you heading up there?" Roman asked.

A few of them nodded. "Yeah, my trade route goes up that way. I usually stop in Roan or Umber and stay for the winter."

"We can go further, though, if it'll help."

Roman grinned. "I'd appreciate it."

A minute later, Barty zipped out of the trees, adjusting his glasses and fiddling with his scarf. "I suppose I shouldn't bother with this anymore. Oh dear, this is nerve-wracking." He wrung the scarf in his hands. "So, what's your plan to keep me from being drawn and quartered?"

"I can't believe I'm saying this, but we need to go to church," Roman sighed.

Barty blinked. "You…wish to take me to the place that is full of pictures of werewolves being slaughtered by glorified heroes?"

"Think about it! People think werewolves are damned. If they see you enter a church and touch the altar unscathed, they won't be able to say that."

"They may think my presence sullies the church, even if I'm not struck by lightning," Barty muttered. "This seems like a very hasty plan."

"It is. Would you rather run for it?"

"Yes," Barty said frankly. "But I suppose that's not an option." He let out a long sigh. "At least the coffee today was halfway decent… Right! Let's go, then! No time to waste! No better day to risk one's life, after all."

The remaining people were staring at Barty with confused expressions, as if they were trying to reconcile the beast they had just seen with the nervous, jittery man who now stood beside Roman.

"Why don't we make a ring around these two?" Wallace suggested. "That should deter some violence, at least."

"Excellent idea!" Barty said immediately. "The more people the better!" He frowned. "Um, how likely is it that any angry villagers may hurt their friends? I don't want any injuries on my account."

"I don't think these people are quite as crazed as the Huntsmen," Roman reasoned. "Since Burgundy sees so much travel, it's much more tolerant of several things. Why, I know some towns where poor Wallace would have been killed or exiled for daring to suggest that a werewolf saved his life." Vale certainly came to mind.

Martin brandished his mace. "Well, I'll do what I can to keep things calm. Still not sure what's happening, but I'll trust you as long as all fangs and claws are kept under control."

Barty sniffed. "Please. I'm not an animal. If anything, my uncouth traveling companions are more beastly than I'll ever be."

This elicited a few snickers, which was definitely encouraging.

A few humans helped to make a ring around Roman and Barty. Most of them ended up choosing to go back to town and stay out of it.

"I've got a family!" one of them protested. "I can't be getting involved in this."

Barty sighed as the humans departed. "It is said that evil only prevails when good men do nothing."

Roman shrugged. "Hope we got enough good men on our side."

Taking a collective breath, the uncertain group started back toward Burgundy.

At first, the town didn't look any different from normal. It was a little quieter, but otherwise was what anyone would expect from a typical fall night: cloudy, cold, and smelling of leaves. Then, as they grew closer to the center of town, they became aware of a noise. It was an angry humming sound that grew in intensity the more they walked. A few people lost courage and broke off from the circle to hide behind a building. Roman gripped Barty's arm with one hand while brandishing his cane in the other. Martin and Wallace remained at the front, marching with grim scowls on their faces. Zwei padded next to Barty, his ears flat, growling nervously, as if he knew that something dangerous was happening.

Then, the torchlight became visible along with the crowd. A blockade had formed across the path, manned by people holding everything from swords to clubs made from the legs of furniture.

Martin stepped forward. "We're trying to get to the church. Let us pass."

"Martin, what are you doing?" one of the people in the crowd shouted. "Don't tell me that beast put a spell on you that easily!"

"I'm not under any spell," Martin growled. "Just let Roman and Barty through. They want you all to see them enter the church."

"You wish to sully the house of God and the Maidens with werewolf filth?!"

"Think about it," Roman called out. "Grimm can't enter hallowed grounds. Everyone believes that werewolves are the same. If that's true, Barty will die the minute he touches the steps. If not, you will have to agree that, despite his differences, he's a man just like any of us."

There was some furious muttering in response to this.

"What do you have to lose?" Wallace asked. "If he's damned, the Maidens will do your work for you. If not, you owe it to yourselves to ask why."

"The Maidens expect us to keep filth from their doorstep!"

"And you're doing an excellent job," Roman muttered. "So, do you think they'll really damn anyone for trying this just one time? You can always pray for forgiveness later, if that's what you folk do." He spread out his hands. "Look at me. I'm a smut seller who doesn't worship anyone, and I've gone into church without being smited."

"Smote, Roman. It's smote," Barty groaned. "Honestly, does anyone know grammar nowadays?"

"Are you really calling out my grammar now?!"

"Well, I'd rather die sounding somewhat intelligent!"

"Sweet Maidens, are you a married couple or what?" Martin muttered before turning back to the crowd. "Look, just let us through. You know us. You can do us a small favor, can't you?"

There was a moment of hesitance before the leaders of the mob lowered their weapons. "Fine," one said. "But that beast isn't entering the church without us."

Barty gulped loudly. Entering a church surrounded by humans who want me dead. Why did I get involved with this again? He took a breath. History, Barty. You are a part of history. Let's just hope it won't be a fine-printed footnote concerning what werewolf blood does to the carpeting on church floors.

The church was a dark and foreboding figure that night. Even the four stained glass windows at the front didn't seem to lend it any color. A few candles could be seen flickering inside. When Barty pushed the doors open, his bite mark bare to the world, he was met with air colder than that which was outside.

He walked down the aisle, eyes darting around. He was aware of the priest scrambling behind the altar, muttering a frantic prayer. The whispers of the humans echoed off of the walls. He glanced to the side, seeing a painting of a hero killing a black-furred, red-eyed werewolf. Would that be his fate in a few minutes?

Then, what could only be described as a miracle occurred.

Outside, the light of the moon broke through the clouds. Its silver light moved down in an ivory wave, hitting the church's front and shining fully on the stained glass windows. Inside, four beams of light stretched across the floor. Green, gold, orange, and blue reached out through the pews, stopping just where Barty stood. As he continued forward, the lights followed him until they were bathing the five altars with radiance.

Heart pounding, Barty knelt on the ground, then took that last step forward, placing a hand on the altar of God. The doors were cracked open as people peeked in, crowding after Barty, gaping in awe. In that moment, a fifth, unfiltered moonbeam traveled through the cracked door and rested on God's altar and across Barty's back. When he turned around, the light reflected off his glasses, hiding his face for a moment.

As he exited the church, the moon passed behind the clouds once more, making the night dark and colorless again.

There was a moment of stunned silence, which was then broken by a whistle from Roman. "Welp, if that wasn't God and the Maidens showing their approval, I honestly don't know what that was."

The humans who had been in the church stared numbly at their weapons, then tossed them to the side. Others were nodding fervently. Martin and Wallace were letting out sighs of relief. Some still tried to convince the others to attack, but were so obviously outnumbered, that they could only stomp away while muttering about deceivers and beasts.

For the next few minutes, people walked up to Barty, touching his hand, staring at his bite mark, and marveling at the fact that he could actually speak. This even came from people who had known him, who were testily reminded that he had been a werewolf for years and had always been well-spoken.

Eventually, things were calm enough for Roman to pull Barty to the side. "So, Barty. You're the first werewolf to ever walk the streets of Burgundy freely. How does it feel?"

"Exhausting," Barty said, adjusting his glasses and shaking himself all over. He smiled when Zwei padded over and leaned against his leg, and bent down to scratch the pup behind the ears. "Can we please go to the inn? I need at least a dozen cups of coffee after that! Make it a nice, dark blend this time. I need something heavy after all that…"

Roman laughed. "I think that can be arranged. Who knows? Now that your secret is out, you could possibly get in on the bet."

Barty glared flatly at him. "Yes, because I'm sure most fathers would be thrilled to find out that their daughters are now werewolves due to sleeping with one who is trying to fulfill a bet. No, thank you. I'll take my coffee and live a long life, thank you very much!"

Roman snickered. "Maidens, you are such a prude."

"How many inns have you been thrown out of? My personal number is zero."

"Shut up!"

Barty smirked. "I rest my case."

The scene with the light in the church came to me as I was typing this chapter. I think our lovely questers deserve a bit of a miracle at this point, don't you?

If you like what you see and want to show extra support in exchange for rewards, my P/atreon is Solora Goldsun.

Peace out!