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The ARLIGENT Experiment

An Introduction

This story is a product of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to any persons, places, events or objects is strictly coincidental.

Readers beware! This story contains mature themes; no, not just the sexualized that furs are used to seeing. Drug use, violence, mad science experiments and potentially disturbing subject matter fill these pages. The easily offended would be wise to avoid this, and all subsequent works bearing the "ARLIGENT" title.

All Characters and their copyright holders can be found in Appendix A, located at the back of the book.

Story By Dominick Bane

https://nick-bane.sofurry.com/

https://www.furaffinity.net/user/nickbane

https://www.patreon.com/nickbane

Artwork by Tsaiwolf

https://www.tsaiwolf.com

https://www.patreon.com/tsaiwolf

Edit and Reviewing done by Ged Lion

Telegram: @gedlion{gb}

This work is for promotional purposes: It is not necessarily indicative of the final product.

///// Prologue: The Silver Ladle

Charinthosse could have very easily been the capital of the world. An island city-state surrounded by sheer, ivory-colored walls. It rose from the high cliffs of a lonely island on the horizon, staring back at the mainland in silent triumph at the three kingdoms that had long-since given up on trying to conquer it.

From its humble beginnings, Charinthosse had spread it wings as a dominant power in the world. Nearly seventy thousand families called the walled city their home. Sprawling across six districts, Charinthosse was a societal experiment of its own. Each district, named simply for their place on a compass, governed themselves as best they were able. Walled individually from one another, reinforced gates dotted the walls to allow passage between the districts freely.

While intended to hinder invasions, the first throne of democracy left the worst of its wars in decades passed. In these bright days, Charinthosse enjoyed the excess of an industrial revolution.

The city's unique position transformed it over the centuries to the trade capital of the world. On the south side of the city, covered docks welcomed all boats for imports, as well as exporting textiles crafted in the western district of the city itself.

Charinthosse's Northern district was filled to the brim with mansions and libraries. Merchants traded the wealth of nations, handshakes and back-room dealings used to expand their riches, and stature the world over.

Just east, domed roofs and unnecessarily tall towers faced the dawn. Politicians, clergymen and businessmen alike nattered away inside the structures; each faction deflecting from their own hypocrisies to find fault with the others. Workers in the west manufactured textiles, farms, mines and docks hardly cared for their solutions- often which felt more divorced from reality than useful.

To Theodore Locke, a gray wolf who found his employ just inside of the city walls from the port, could only shake his head at the state of the world. Politics was a poisonous subject, and Theodore was glad to be well away from it.

His shift at the Silver Ladle was to start soon enough- the wolf striding through a pair of saloon styled, batwing doors to the currently empty bar. Theodore grinned, and nodded politely to the barmaids as they bustled about.

A dozen booths lined the walls on the first floor; tables were lined in neat rows and draped with threadbare sheets to maintain a semblance of class. Lanterns were hanged from exposed rafters overhead as Theodore wove his way through the crowd of workers making ready to serve the evening's rush.

Pork roasts would be brought from the cellars,

While some called it dishonorable, life as a dock whore offered little, and expected even less. He took strangers to bed for money; sometimes even indulging a fantasy or fetish. Drunken bastards weren't uncommon, and Theodore had learned to manage quite well.

Far as he cared, Theodore had a roof over his head, and got a pair of square meals a day. Keeping things clean was a part of Theodore's nature since childhood, and staying fit and trim was easy enough. Most of his problems could be met with an indifferent shrug, and a good night of rest. Theodore didn't feel he could ask for more.

Ultimately, Theodore was grateful. He wasn't required to pay attention to current events, or bothered by not enough, or too much rainfall. Some days, his problems even felt so mundane he invented things to become passionate over.

This week's target was gaslights.

The Silver Ladle, under the ownership of Madame Sybil, was always the trendsetter for whorehouses in the region. For the longest time, she had abstained from the implementation of running flammable gas through wood walls. Per usual, Madame Sybil's watchful eye saved the establishment months of revenue at a time.

In their infancy, gaslights were little more than the ultimate in fire hazards. Several homes burnt to the ground before they started getting any safer, but still the Madame wouldn't have them installed in the Silver Ladle.

The needlessly complex, 'safe' switch for the gaslights must have been an adorable thought on paper, Theodore figured. It had to be. Turn this crank, a rod spins a piece of flint, sparks against a bit of steel. If the gas feed was on, the gaslights would flame up. A second crank pulled the piece of steel to suffocate the flame..

Theodore nearly broke his thumb helping with the installation, only resenting the bastard engineer even more. The rules of the house stated that Theodore was personally responsible for maintaining the lights as well as the general state of his bedroom. The badger hadn't advertised the flint strikers needing to be replaced every few-hundred twists.

In protest of the Madame's decision, the wolf opted to keep the door to his room open and fire burning hot. So long as he didn't have to rip down his walls to change the flint.

This close to the docks, the scent of fish, rotting wood and coal burning fires wafted in. Unpleasant as they were, Theodore found them something close to nostalgic. He had worked shipyards in his youth under the commission of Captain McGinnes. Never went out to sea on the vessel, with its military missions and all- but more often than not he helped the docked ship stay clear of vermin. Standards aboard the vessels were enforced with a switch- Theodore hadn't ever learned all of the rules, only enough to know that the cleaner the decks were, the better off he was.

Not that the lupine minded much; part of him was even grateful that Captain McGinnes had been so strict. It always made Theodore quick to clean after a long night, or an eager customer. He could walk to cramped kitchen below blindfolded to retrieve a mop these days. Theodore chuckled at the memories; he'd even done it for money a few times now.

For now, the furniture was shoved against the far wall from the hearth, just beneath the open window. The bed and vanity were all that were really in the room, leaving Theodore rather wanting for a good chair, but it simplified cleaning.

Embers leapt from the fire pit behind him, and Theodore's ears perked. He glanced back to the smoking cinder, ducking into the hallway for a moment to retrieve a mop and bucket, no doubt left there in a sort of suggestion. The lupine threw a bucket of warmed water over the floor. He grabbed the mop and drew tight figure-eights in the water; conjuring suds from soap of cleanings past.

Theodore narrowed his dark green eyes in the firelight as one of the embers spat at him again, sizzling violently as it landed in the water. Theodore crossed the room in three strides, moving some of the wood from the side of the stone hearth to the ravenous blazes.

Fire lapped up at the wood, then began to crawl up the log. Theodore paused and inhaled with a smile - he had always loved the scent of cedar on an open flame.

A movement behind him in the doorway caused his features to twitch into a small, disgusted frown and sniff the air again, more carefully. The cedar scent was now mixed with heavy lavender, and the wolf didn't need to turn. He knew precisely who it was.

A simple, dry click from behind Theodore turned on the gaslights in each corner, illuminating the small room and everything in it. The fire hissed softly as the flames gnawed the log. Theodore leaned the mop against the wall near the bed, only to watch it slide along the slick floor and clatter to the ground.

He straightened his back, then turned to face Madame Sybil. The mistress of the house was a panther: not a spot in her fur that wasn't inky black. Her angular features complemented by a layered, flowing gown of velvet in various pale shades of gray and luxurious splotches of red beneath a black covering lace. She stood in all her splendor in the doorway, lowering her hand from the crank that controlled the gaslights and folding them neatly before her.

"You're looking as fit as ever, Mr. Locke." Madame Sybil nodded calmly to Theodore. The gray wolf stood in only his loincloth- and even then, the linen wrap left little to the imagination, not even covering the lupine's thighs.

"Thank you Madam." The wolf replied, clearing his throat as he tactfully lifted the mop from the floor, and leaned it against the hearth. He crossed the room with as much dignity as he could, pushing the bed away from the wall just enough to retrieve his trousers from the vanity behind it. He slid into them, tying the cords about his waist, and letting the leather hang naturally over his legs. Theodore hated the lacing around his ankles-- wolves weren't meant to wear boots.

"It is 1929, Mr Locke." The madam remarked. "You still choose to live in the dark like a beast...?"

"Gaslights disagree with me, Madame."

The feline wet her lips carefully, her angular features set in stone before she spoke. "Be that as it may. You have a customer. I expect your room to be ready, bed made and all, within ten minutes." Madame Sybil stated. "He is a professor and former military man. Be respectful." The panther nodded curtly as Theodore straightened his back.

Professors and military men were each interesting beasts. Most of them were so proud, insisting on being called by their professional titles or squad nickname, as if that somehow masked who they were. But to have a professor that was also a former military man, or a military man a former professor...? Part of the wolf shivered nervously at the thought. Theodore had once wanted to join the Charinthossian Navy himself, but was jarred from his dreams after the horror of seeing the medical corps pull wounded soldiers off the boat.

Since then, he had a deep regard for the men who volunteered their lives and limbs for the sake of Charinthosse's ideals- Theodore made it something of a mission to put his best foot forward.

Theodore adjusted the bed-- off-centered in the room, favoring the vanity over the hearth. Over-washed sheets were put on next, followed by a comforter, then a quilt. Theodore fluffed the pillows and tucked the corners all before sliding into his well-fitted shirt and thick leather vest, even taking the extra moment to make sure his shirt was tucked in.

Theodore wet his lips pensively, drawing a deep breath as he heard the slight footfalls approach. An otter-- an older beast by the look of the graying fur on his muzzle-- strode into the room carefully, and surveyed the area from behind a pair of thin, wire rimmed glasses.

"Welcome to the Silver Ladle."

Theodore bowed politely. The otter nodded in return, then eyed the window. "Discretion is, of course, our highest priority," added Theodore, following the otter's gaze.

"The window please, Master Wolf." The otter said quietly. Theodore's ears perked, and he glanced back to the otter, then again toward the large opening in the wall.

"Nobody can see in. That is but an escape route, sir." Theodore explained. "A labyrinth of wood and ivory that runs the rooftops of the district. It allows for quick escape into the night, in the event of jealous lover, or spouse."

The mustelid's eyes narrowed from behind the wires of his glasses. "With all due respect, close the window please." Theodore nodded, turning to do as he was told. He heard the otter close the door behind him-- his eyebrows raising in surprise as he even heard the scraping of the door wedge being pushed into place.

"Madame Sybil said you were a former military man?" Theodore asked carefully, pausing, and then turning back to face the otter. The patron nodded curtly.

"Gunnery Captain of the Fourth Island Regiment. I was a Combat Physician for seven years before retiring to work in the North District University. Now I'm just Professor Kendall Whitaker." As the otter spoke, he stepped around the wolf to pull the window closed on his own.

Theodore didn't mind titles in the slightest-- most of his customers were members of the powerful elite. Madame Sybil had a reputation before Theodore had begun working for her of cutting out the tongues of those who violated the privacy of the brothel's patrons; which she held in regard even above her own life.

"Theodore Locke, former dock worker, former steelworker, current whore at your service." The wolf bowed politely.

This creature was different though.... This professor, unlike others that arrived in fine silken and cotton garments, this otter showed little signs of losing his virility; beneath the folds of his clothes Theodore could see that the otter was still an adept athlete.

A gold chain ran from the buttons of his vest to his left side- undoubtedly a pocket watch. A heavy satchel fell over his opposite shoulder, bulging with papers. Theodore could make out the corners of diagrams, and other things he found curious. Given the otter's profession, they were undoubtedly class notes; the thought of him being a teacher felt morbidly cliché, but it piqued Theodore's curiosity nonetheless.

"This is hardly a library, sir. But perhaps we could entertain something else...?" Theodore asked, carefully leaning back against the vanity, trying to appear more relaxed.

"You've claimed that I can trust your discretion. I shall hold you to that." Professor Whitaker spoke softly, moving about the room, tapping the walls with his knuckles..

"Indeed you can. We've soundproofed the walls to an extent as well to better ensure such privacy." Theodore nodded. The mustelid completed his round, standing once more at the foot of Theodore's bed. "So what is your pleasure...?"

The professor stood silent-- unamused even, before the wolf. "My pleasure?"

Theodore chuckled softly, wetting his lips. He did his best to not sound condescending as he spoke. "That is what brothels are for, Professor." He considered his words carefully, lest his tone be read as mocking. . "Powerful men such as yourself come to indulge fantasies with energetic women..." The wolf shrugged nonchalantly, before grinning almost savagely. "Or if you prefer, energetic men."

The otter scowled darkly, then twisted open the small, silver clasp that held his satchel closed, and retrieving papers from it-- a drawing or two splitting the sea of words.

"It seems you brought a script...?" The wolf tried not to chuckle.

"I am trusting your discretion."

"As you've said."

"Sit down, Mr. Locke." The otter said quietly. "And do keep your hands to yourself."

"Should I address you as 'sir' then, Professor...?" The wolf asked, sitting down on the bed with a small, but eager sigh. Theodore sat near the edge, turning his back to the patron somewhat. Many times, Theodore had found if he allowed himself to seem relaxed- vulnerable, even, his patron would follow suit.

The professor looked him over carefully. "It's Professor, Whitaker, or the full Professor Whitaker is fine. But I am not here for sex."

Theodore's ears perked, and he looked over his shoulder at the otter. "You didn't pay a duke's ransom to enter the club, only to come for my company as a scholar?"He was quite aware of the ridiculous prices that Madame Sybil charged for entrance to the Silver Ladle's upper floors. It was insult to injury that, in his view, the cut he was allowed to take was a mere pittance.

"Madame Sybil was generous with me. Allowed me entrance for free." The otter said, continuing to look through, and sort his paperwork. Theodore blinked.

"How...?"

"I am nearly ready to have you muzzled. Please, there are things that I cannot explain to you unless you would like to be involved. No more questions, Mr. Locke." Professor Whitaker snapped, then stood in silence.

Theodore fell quiet as well, glancing nervously at the otter. He'd never... He'd never done lots of things. But being unnerved in the seat of his own authority was entirely foreign to him. "Free?" The wolf muttered incredulously, "That seems out of character for Madame Sybil."

The otter stepped forward, baring his teeth at the wolf. Theodore stood head and shoulders taller, but the lupine was strangely certain that the other male could overpower him. "One. More. Word. Wolf." the otter growled softly.

Theodore's jaw locked, and he fought a growl before taking an uncertain glance toward the parchment that the otter held in his hand. His jaw dropped open. He caught but one sentence.

"Necessary to preserve the integrity of the eye for transplant...?" Theodore read aloud, and then blinked up at the otter, whose gaze darkened.

"Think very carefully before you respond to this question." The professor enunciated slowly, his voice quieting. "I have given you the opportunity to not ask questions, and stay out of this. I will give you one more. If you stay silent, you will never hear from me again. Your life will be far simpler as a result. If you insist and if you dare to ask, I will tell you the truth, and the full truth at that."

His eyes met with the other's harsh glare. "Transplant for an eye?" Theodore repeated.

The professor stepped to face Theodore, then leaned forward to put himself almost nose to nose with the lupine.

"Are you absolutely certain that you want to know?"

GLOSSARY:

Charinthosse: (caren-thoss; 'caren' rhymes with barren, and 'thoss' rhymes with 'boss')

• An island city-state. It is considered a pocket nation by other neighboring kingdoms because of its military power, and economic exports. It is the largest manufacturer of textiles, as well as the seat of Arrowman Steels and Wolfhardt Industries among other, less noteworthy corporations.

Therasphetamine: (thair-es-phet-ah-mean; 'thair' rhymes with 'hair')

-A drug manufactured by the Congregate of Scholars for use in the ARLIGENT Experiment. It is an unreliable psychoactive drug, incredibly addictive and lethal in uncontrolled dosages. It was designed to dilate the senses to the paranormal, but oftentimes caused hallucinations based off of the fears of the subject. It was abandon owed to high mortality rates and limited success.