Ricard Blumentritt [Ready Freddy]

Born as an only child to a family of astute academics and scholarly scientists, Zaffre grew up with all the luxuries one could ask for in life; but, also a terrible weight upon his shoulders. His parents, controlling as they are brilliant, made Zaffre’s education their highest priority, strictly controlling his flow of information, his viable social circles, and his daily activities; if it didn’t contribute to his teachings, it was forbidden to him. For 13 years, his results were exemplary for his age, taking particular interest in physics and physiology; but the pressure was nearing its boiling point for Zaffre.

Resolved to escape, Zaffre made several attempts to escape, each time getting more extravagant and expensive. By the 9th attempt, his parents had had enough and locked him in a small box-like compartment in the basement with only a small crack to allow air in. For hours, he struggled to breathe thick of the thin air, to stretch against the steel walls, to see a drop of light amidst the ocean of dark, all to no avail. He felt alone, afraid, and helpless now more than ever. He could feel himself retreating into himself, as if the world around him were getting bigger or he was getting smaller.

It was then that he noticed it. His breathing had somehow normalized, the air seeming much thicker; his limbs could stretch out fully and with ease, the walls no longer within his reach; his surrounding began to illuminate, now more visible than it had been in hours. He was the light, his aura lighting his path to freedom. He was gone from the estate that day, his parents not realizing until days after.

For several months, he wandered Atlas’ smaller townships, assisting in clinics for bread and bedding, all the while evading his parents’ search parties who were never too far behind. Though he came to enjoy his work, the constant vigilance and lack of permanence was quickly becoming overly taxing. Desperate for some semblance of stability, he stowed away on an airship out of Atlas. Unfortunately, his flight would be boarded too by a band of pirate-themed…pirates. Without any knowledge of self defense, it was all Zaffre could do to hide himself amidst the cargo, waiting for them to leave. Eventually, they did; but, in their wake came the grimm. It was a massacre. Though no cage was present, the same feelings had started up again, only now, no amount of shrinking would save him. Fortunately, a small team of Huntsmen arrived just in time to save the few remaining passengers and dispatch the surrounding grimm. But that feeling, that fear, the bitter familiarity crept up his spine. He swore to never let himself or anyone feel that way again.

Striking a deal with one of the huntsmen who rescued him, he underwent years of training to enter an academy in exchange of his servitude as both an errand-boy and a field medic. Though, without the prior trainings of his would-be peers, Zaffre struggled to keep up in terms of raw physical capacity and so was gifted arms better suited to his physique. Finally, after 3 years of training, his trainer deemed him ready to apply. Making way to Syne academy, his parents would once again catch wind of his location and send search parties to Bellmuse to find and extract him.

A brilliant crimson pierced through the windows, alternating with bands of darkness in the admissions office. Outside, the chatter of applicants still awaiting their turns made Zaffre’s eye twitch, getting steadily louder. Professor Gildenberg had just finished reading through his application, jutting the papers against his desk before giving Zaffre another once over. Zaffre prepared himself, going over dozens of scenarios and thrice the number of questions in the days leading up to this. He was ready for it.
“Mr. Blumentritt, what made you decide to be Huntsman?”

He was not ready for it. Zaffre blinked twice, swallowed and almost choked on his saliva. Instantly, his composure fell apart as his face began twitching and sweat formed around his furrowed brows. For a moment, he was back in his box, on the ship; He could feel himself shrinking in his seat, the words echoing in his head, just barely holding it back. The professor must have sensed it, having raised an eyebrow, an unamused look on his face. He had to buy time.

“Sorry, could you…repeat the question?”

“No; but I will add a second. If you can’t even handle yourself in a simple interview, how can I expect that you’ll handle yourself in the heat of battle, to protect those around you?”

A moment passed; then three. With a sigh, the professor reached for the wooden stamp stamp, the one which Zaffre remembered to say ‘reject’. The world seemed to stop around him as the memories flooded through his mind. In his head, a silhouette took form, it’s mouth moving, soundless but completely understood.

“Sir, have you ever been terrified?”
The professor doesn’t stop, hardly regards the question at all, but takes a moment to ink up his stamp as he answers.

“Naturally. In my line of work, I’d be insane otherwise. Why?”

“It’s a horrible feeling, isn’t it? When the world just stops making sense, and you claw and you claw, searching for some desperate hope as your heart races and your lungs give up? When your limbs refuse to do what they’ve been told and the world around you disappears into nothing? I’ve been terrified too, Sir; and I need this to make sure that I’ll never be terrified again. So that nobody will have to be terrified again.”
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