Frederick paced the Great Hall pensively, chin clasped in a ponderous hand. Outside, the afternoon's classes proceeded apace, Reinicke shouting out instructions to his latest victims with his usual flair and callous cruelty. Even in his deep state of thought, Frederick couldn't help but grin foolishly at the Cat Master's almost comical way of leading his lessons.
"Push-ups! Come on!" He chanted out. "One! Two! Three! Now smile! Five! Six! Now laugh! You are having a great time! Eleven! Twelve! Now let me hear you cry! Aaaaand you're happy again! Now sad! Now happy! Angry! Confused!"
Frederick chuckled as he heard the perplexed grunts of the newer adepts. Reinicke's antics had irritated the more militaristic Grandmaster Bastian to no end, a mockery of his more serious, regimented drills, but the Nazairi Witcher had to admit that his fellow Cat was an effective mentor, having tutored some of the most adept swordsmen and women to walk the land.
As the fencing class continued outside, Frederick turned his attention back to the dilemma at hand, that of the werewolf Princess. He sighed, turning back to the spread of books he had laid out on a nearby table. Kaer Tiele's library was not the most extensive he had come across, failing to come close to the libraries of Oxenfurt, or the vast trove of knowledge Master Travis had stowed away in his study in Asheberg. Still, it held much knowledge that would prove difficult to find anywhere else in the world. Ancient, yellowing bestiaries, dusty treatises on alchemical concoctions, scrolls full of arcane writings that made the eyes hurt, and a swathe of crumbling parchments relating tales of old Witchers battling fearsome beasts and undoing terrible curses. The young Griffin had spent the past night poring over the vast array of knowledge, scanning the scrawling writings until his head pounded and exhaustion tugged at his mind, earnestly searching for any mention of werewolves, beast-form curses, and other lesser lycanthropes. He'd even managed to find a few missives from the King of Redania relating to Liva, as well as some half-written responses from Svar, describing the steps taken to aid her the first time she had come to Kaer Tiele. Leaning over the amassed knowledge, Frederick felt his eyelids beginning to droop.
The sound of approaching footsteps roused the apprentice Witcher from his daze, spurring him to half-awake attention. He glanced towards the entrance to the hall to see Algir walking towards him, the Witcher's eyes gleaming in the dark interior of the hall. As the Cat School Witcher drew close, he spared Frederick a nod.
"Frederick." He greeted. "I'd heard from one of the adepts that you were looking for me?" His eyes flitted to the table. "Is this why you could hardly pay attention during my class this morning?"
"I'm trying to find a way to help Liv- the Princess." Frederick explained. "I want to know everything about how to cure a werewolf."
"You don't 'cure' a werewolf, Frederick." Algir sighed, knowing his words would not be received favourably. "She's not sick. Do you know how a werewolf comes to be?" He looked to Frederick's blank face, then pulled a seat out from the table. "Come, sit. Hopefully you will pay more attention to this lesson than this morning's."
Frederick complied, finding a chair for himself and turning to face the Master. A momentary relief filled his heart, for Algir's knowledge of monsters and curses was rivalled by only a handful in the guild. There were few who could help him with this matter like the Cat School Master, save maybe Lennart. Algir, his expression grim, leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.
"Werewolves are tricky things. Depending on how they were made, they require different solutions. They are cursed, yes, but the curse has two possible causes. In the first, they were bitten, and the curse passed to them through werewolf saliva in the wound. In the second, they have had the curse inflicted upon them, by a malicious being. As far as Liva knows, she was never bitten, so that leaves us with the possibility of someone with ill intentions casting a curse on her. Given our current circumstances, the chances of uncovering the source of the curse are nearly nonexistent. The Wolf School was unable to uncover anything the first time they tried to deal with the curse. Its unlikely we could find out anything now, with less resources and an army camping upon our doorstep."
"So what do we do?" Frederick asked.
"In truth? The simpler thing would be to kill her. We're ill equipped to have a creature as dangerous as a werewolf running around while we face a seige on all sides."
"She doesn't deserve that." Frederick felt a pang of some unreadable emotion spike in his chest. Something like sorrow, anger, frustration perhaps? He couldn't be sure. "She's living in fear of her own actions, trapped through no fault of her own. We have to do something to help her."
"I don't know what to tell you, Frederick. Without the source of the curse, its nearly impossible to lift it. You can't just break a curse of lycanthropy through sheer brute force of will. The magics at work are just to powerful." Algir stood, shaking his head. "Try speaking to Filippa. She has been involved in Liva's case for longer than any of us. Otherwise, perhaps you can find something in these old books, or another Witcher may know something that I have not learned."
The Cat School Witcher straightened, turning on his heel and stalking out of the hall, leaving behind him a somber, quiet Frederick. Stifling a weary yawn, the Griffin returned to his studies.
~o~0~o~
The sun was setting outside. Still seated in the Great hall, Frederick only became aware of this when he was forced to light a brace of candles to aid in his reading, poring over the exploits of a long-dead Witcher known as Giddref of Aedirn. He glanced up, noting the reddening sunlight filtering through the dusty windows, and released a low sigh. An entire day spent digging through history, and not a single promising lead. Algir's words still echoed in his mind, the Witcher's warning that his was a near impossible task still weighing heavily upon him. Slamming the latest dusty tome shut, he stood with a frustrated grunt. Legs that had been folded in a sitting position for the whole day creaked in protest, fighting as he stood, but he powered through the discomfort, stretching the kinks out of his spine with a long yawn. he glanced about, noting the servants preparing for the evening meal, bringing out pots of cooked meat and platters of breads and cheeses for the weary adepts.
The peace of the hall was suddenly shattered by a piercing shriek from outside. In a flash, Frederick burst into motion, rushing outside. He cantered down the stone steps into the main courtyard to see a cluster of panicked activity. Adepts gathered in a ring around some sort of commotion, jostling for a better view. Grunts and growls of some feral creature escaped from the midst of the fracas.
As Frederick reached the clustered Witchers, Baron Vulko barreled through the massed adepts, face dark as he made a hasty exit, adjusting a glittering ring on his right hand as he shouldered his way through the crush of bodies. With a firm push, Frederick forced his way into the opening the Baron left behind. In moments, he burst through the ring, pausing just an instant to survery the situation.
The diminutive Witcheress known a Velda was being escorted away, shaking visibly as a fellow adept inspected her for injuries. Meanwhile, in the centre of the circle of gawking Witchers, Liva wrestled frantically with two adepts, holding her firmly by an arm each. The Princess, straining against her Witcher captors, was dishevelled, her hair tangled, her makeup smeared. Her fingers, normally so delicate, clawed at the air, trying to attack any within arm's reach. Under her dress, her muscles rippled powerfully, moving with a strength that flew in the face of her slender frame. Her lips parted, stark white teeth gnashing in her red maw. Her breast heaved violently, sucking in vast lungfuls of air and expelling it in loud, throaty growls. Most striking of all, however, were her eyes. Whereas before, Liva had looked out on the world through emerald green eyes, now those same orbs glowed with feral intensity. There were no whites to those eyes, and instead the irises were a bloody red, the pupils narrowed to tiny, manic points. What looked out through those eyes was not Human, and instead Frederick sensed the gaze of the same beast that had tried to gut him a mere couple of nights previously. The Griffin felt his heart lurch to see the young woman so completely lost to what lurked inside her.
Liva snarled, the wild light in her eyes burning even more brightly as the two adepts tightened their grip. Her teeth, disturbingly normal in spite of her feral growling, snapped together wildly. Her gaze flickered to Frederick, and there was the ghost of recognition there, but her struggles did not diminish. If anything, she became more frenzied, fighting to break her captors' grasp.
Frederick tensed, reaching for his medallion. Inside his body, a storm of magical energy rose, the element of water flowing through him and making ready to manifest in the form of an Axii sign, or perhaps even a Somne, if he could get close enough.
Before the Griffin adept could unleash his Sign, a small but powerful shape bulled past him, rushing straight at the enraged Princess. While short in stature, Master Ruta was not to be underestimated, the Bear School Master hurrying to kneel before Liva. The Witcheress' gaze snapped to either side, her expression grim.
"Get back, all of you! Give us some space!" She growled, voice steady even as it overpowered the restrained werewolf's snarling. Not a single adept hesitated to obey.
Ruta turned back to the Princess, lowering her voice to offer a few soothing, calming words. Frederick felt the energies of an Axii Sign pass through the Master, reaching out to cover Liva's mind. In moments, the wolf receded. Liva slumped, the two adepts stumbling as all resistance vanished from her limbs. Moments later, the Princess lifted her head wearily, as if disturbed from a deep slumber. Her eyes opened, and Frederick felt a wave of relief as the emerald hues had once again returned, the wolf-like stare nowhere to be found. As awareness and consciousness returned to her features, Liva glanced around at the gathered crowd, her expression falling, grief filling her gaze. She glanced to Frederick, eyes meeting his for just a moment before turning back to the cobblestones beneath her, her entire posture filled with shame.
Ruta dismissed the rest of the group, turning back to Liva. With a gentle motion, she aided the Princess to her feet, guiding her towards one of the benches on the courtyard's perimeter. Realising that this was not the time or place to intervene, Frederick stepped back, turning to leave as what passed for normality in the castle returned to the courtyard. As the young Witcher made to leave, he became aware of another figure watching the scene unfold from the shade under the walls of the main tower. Recognising Dirk, Frederick moved towards his mentor.
"Master." He exchanged a grim nod with the senior Witcher.
"Frederick." Dirk's tone was terse.
"You saw what happened?"
"Looks like the Baron touched her with a silver trinket of some kind." Dirk shrugged. "With a werewolf, that will only get one kind of reaction."
"He must have understood what would happen!" Frederick glanced to the Baron, who stood off to one side, watching the young Princess hawkishly as Ruta tended to her.
"He claims not to have known."
"Then he either takes us for fools, or he is one himself!" Frederick felt a spike of heat grow in his breast, a flare of anger at the Human for provoking such a confrontation. "What could he have hoped to gain from doing this?"
"I'm sure he has a political motivation." Dirk shrugged. "It would not do for us to become involved. Not with so much going on around us. We cannot afford to have our attentions divided." He paused, turning to look at his apprentice. "I know what you are thinking, Frederick. Its plain as those scars on your throat. You want to try to help her."
"You think we should not?" Frederick gestured in Liva's direction. "Look at her! She's just a scared girl! She doesn't deserve any of this."
"Deserve has nothing to do with it." Dirk replied flatly. "She is cursed, and there is little we can do about it. We should be concerning ourselves with how to preserve the guild in the face of the enemies who gather at our gates. We cannot afford to be distracted." His gaze turned steely, eyes flashing a caution. "You cannot afford to be distracted, Frederick. You need to learn to ignore the impulses of that heart of yours."
"I won't ignore an innocent life in need, Master." Frederick insisted.
"I'm not asking you to do that, Frederick." Dirk sighed, turning away. "I'm asking you to understand when a situation cannot be fixed. When you need to turn your attention away and towards something else. We tried to help Liva before. We could not lift her curse, even with Filippa's help. In the end, all we could do was suppress it, with an enchanted medallion." He reached up to his neck, nodding to his apprentice. "You've seen firsthand how effective that was."
"Regardless of the risks, I'm not giving up on her yet." Frederick insisted stubbornly. "Not until I know we've tried everything we could."
"Then you haven't learned anything of what i've been trying to teach you." Dirk looked disappointed. "Perhaps you're not the apprentice I thought you would be."
The Griffin straightened, stalking away quietly. Behind him, Frederick looked down to the ground, at a loss for words. His Master's final comment stung more than he cared to admit. Sighing, he turned his attention back to Liva. Ruta had now left, the Master attending to tasks elsewhere in the castle, and the Princess was now talking to a more settled Velda, apologising profusely. After some reassurances from the young Witcheress, Liva calmed somewhat, and the pair began conversing, a more relaxed air settling over them. Content to watch from a distance, Frederick leaned back against the cool wall, a small smile working its way across his features and banishing his worries and pains, if just for a moment.