A Journey Unwanted

Chapter 471 460: Help from the witch

[Realm: Álfheimr]

[Location: Quadling Country]

[Glinda's Castle]

Breakfast passed smoothly, almost too smoothly.

Time seemed to slip by without resistance, leaving little behind to mark it. There wasn't much conversation at the table; the silence wasn't uncomfortable, but it wasn't pleasant either. It simply existed. Aside from Puck, who spoke whenever something caught her interest, and Glinda, who humored her with easy replies, the others remained largely quiet.

Snow ate quietly, offering nothing beyond necessity. The Cowardly Lion barely spoke at all, his presence subdued, as though he were trying not to disturb anything around him. And Grimm said almost nothing, seated as he was, as though the act of eating had been the only thing of note.

"Well," Glinda finally mused, her voice soft as she lifted a finely crafted napkin to her lips, dabbing at them with delicate care, the gesture almost theatrical, "that was rather nice, wasn't it? Alexandria is always such pleasant company in her own way, but there is something to be said about sharing a table with more people. It brings a certain liveliness that one cannot quite replicate alone."

Her golden eyes moved across the table as she spoke, as though taking in each of them in turn.

Snow inclined her head slightly.

"Thank you for the meal," she said, her tone polite in form, but lacking any genuine warmth. The words were correct. But they carried nothing beyond obligation rather than appreciation.

"It was really nice," Puck added almost immediately, her voice bright, her expression far more open as she hovered slightly above the table's edge, clearly far more enthusiastic than anyone else present.

The Cowardly Lion gave a small, uncertain nod, as though agreeing without quite finding the courage to speak aloud.

Grimm did not say anything.

But no one seemed surprised by that.

Glinda, for her part, did not press him. Instead, she simply raised one hand, her fingers poised before she snapped them lightly.

In the next instant, a golden wave of light spread across the table. It wasn't sudden—it moved with a gentle, sweeping motion. For a brief moment, it was still, illuminating the dishes, the plates, and the remnants of the meal.

Then it vanished.

And with it everything else.

The plates were gone, along with the utensils, the crumbs, and the unfinished portions. The table was left pristine, as though the meal had never occurred at all.

"Wouldn't do to leave my pretty attendants with unnecessary work now," Glinda remarked lightly. "Efficiency can be such a lovely thing when applied properly."

Her gaze shifted back to Grimm.

"But I suppose," she continued, her voice softening just slightly as she reached for her wide-brimmed hat, lifting it with care before placing it upon her head, "I should get to helping you find your person of interest. It would be rather cruel of me to delay after offering, wouldn't it?"

Grimm gave a small nod in response, rising from his seat without hesitation.

The others followed suit shortly after.

"I think I shall retire to my room for now," Snow spoke up, her voice distant, as she avoided looking at Grimm for too long—though her gaze still flickered toward him in brief glances. "It seems prudent that I do not intrude on what may very well be a private matter. There is little reason for me to involve myself further at this stage."

Her reasoning was clear enough.

She did not want to remain in close proximity to him.

"A pity," Glinda replied gently, her tone understanding, lacking any hint of offense. "But entirely understandable. We all have our limits, after all. I shall see you later, dear."

Snow gave a small, wordless nod.

Then turned.

Her steps were quick as she made her way toward one of the exits, her figure soon disappearing beyond the doorway without another glance back.

Glinda watched her go for only a moment before turning her attention back to Grimm.

"I imagine you're going to be using magic for this?" Grimm questioned, already moving past pleasantries.

"Indeed," Glinda answered, inclining her head slightly. "Ordinarily, dragonkind possess a natural resistance to magic. Greater Dragons, in particular, are outright immune to what one might call traditional spellwork."

She spoke with ease, but her tone seemed a tad different when speaking of magic. Perhaps a bit more professional, oddly enough.

"However," she continued, "magic infused with divine mana—true divine spells—can affect them. Or, at the very least, spells that mimic that divine structure. Familiar Arts, for example, as utilized by Spawns, tend to function under similar principles. Mainly for two reasons, as the Quaesitorum has observed: some Spawns merely mimic the power of their Gods through magic, not yet mastering the concept of the power. However, some can use their Gods' power as is. In both cases, it functions to harm Greater Dragons."

Puck perked up slightly at that.

"Wait—divine-level spells? Like the Resonantia tier from the Lex Caelorum?" she asked, tilting her head, her curiosity immediate.

"Yes," Glinda replied smoothly, "though there is no need for anything quite so excessive in this case. We need not reach that far up the hierarchy."

She smiled.

"As long as the magic is not applied directly to the dragon itself, it should function without issue."

("Hm, is she capable of Resonantia-tier spells?") Grimm found the thought surfacing on its own as he watched her.

It was difficult, assessing her. She exuded mana, which was refined and undeniably potent. But it was contained so carefully that he could not grasp the full extent of it.

("She hides it well, far too well.")

"I happen to know a rather useful anchoring spell," Glinda continued, her voice drawing their attention back to her with ease. "It originates from the Aegistry sub-branch of magic. Quite versatile, if applied correctly."

She turned slightly, as though already considering the process.

"With another Descendant present," she added, glancing briefly at Grimm, "I can adjust the spell—anchor you not to the dragon directly, but to something that shares similar structure, physiology, a kind of resonance, if you will."

Her smile returned, small but confident.

"Albion would normally serve as the default anchor point, but I would wager you share far more similarities with a fellow Descendant than you ever would with a dragon."

"Makes sense," Grimm murmured, the concept settling easily enough in his mind. The mechanics of this realm's magic were still unfamiliar—but not incomprehensible.

Glinda seemed pleased by the response.

"Good," she said softly, before turning on her heel, already expecting them to follow without question. "Come," she added, her voice carrying lightly through the space. "Delicate spells require suitable arrangements, and while I may not strictly need them, I do so enjoy the process when it is done properly."

There was a hint of indulgence in that statement.

Grimm moved without comment, following after her with steady steps.

Puck drifted along behind him, still thoughtful.

The Cowardly Lion lingered for a moment, as though debating whether he truly wanted to be involved in whatever came next.

Then, with an exhale, he relented.

And trudged after them.

They exited the dining area and stepped once more into the vast hallways of the castle. Glinda walked ahead without pause, naturally taking the lead.

Puck drifted closer to Grimm's side, lowering her altitude slightly until she hovered just beside his shoulder, her expression shifting into a more inquisitive look.

"So," she began, tilting her head slightly as she studied him, "are you actually excited? You're finally going to see your lieutenant again, right? That's something, isn't it?"

There was a beat.

Grimm's helmet turned toward her, just enough to acknowledge that he had heard her. But as always, that emotionless helm betrayed nothing. No reaction or hint of thought.

And just as quickly, he turned his gaze forward again.

Puck rolled her eyes almost immediately.

"Wow," she muttered under her breath, though not quietly enough to go unheard, "you really don't make this easy, do you?"

She drifted a little closer, not quite letting the matter drop.

"Come on," she pressed, her tone more persistent now, "from the way you've been talking about her before—well, not talking much, but still—it didn't sound like you disliked her. If anything, you made it sound like she's one of the few people you don't find completely insufferable."

She paused, watching him carefully.

"So even you have to feel something about seeing her again, right? Or are you seriously going to tell me this is just another 'interesting development' to you?"

Grimm did not respond immediately.

"Mallory is someone I find tolerable," he said at last, his voice almost indifferent. "That alone already places her above most people I've encountered."

A small pause followed.

"But no," he continued, just as flatly, "I am not 'shaking in anticipation' at the thought of seeing her again, if that is what you are trying to confirm."

Puck let out a long, exaggerated sigh.

"Of course you aren't," she muttered, dragging a hand down her face. "Why would you be? That would require you to act like a normal person for once."

Her gaze lingered on him for a moment longer before she huffed lightly, though there was no real irritation behind it, more a kind of resigned amusement.

"Makes you wonder why I even ask sometimes…"

"Mallory…" Glinda's voice drifted back from ahead of them, thoughtful, as though she had been quietly turning the name over in her mind. She did not stop walking, but her head tilted just slightly, her golden eyes glancing back at them with interest. "That is quite the beautiful name, and rather specific as well. Names like that tend to hold some importance."

There was a small smile on her lips as she continued.

"And a lieutenant, no less," she added, her tone shifting into a more curious one. "I must admit, that does pique my interest. You do tend to surround yourself with rather intriguing circumstances, Grimm."

("Suppose since she's helping, I can afford to indulge that curiosity, at least a little.")

The thought came and passed just as quickly in Grimm's mind.

"I am a General in my own realm," he said, his answer concise. "She serves as my lieutenant."

There was no embellishment.

Glinda slowed her pace just slightly at that, her head tilting again as something unreadable alight through her gaze.

"Oh?" she murmured. "A General, at such a young age?" Her eyes lingered on him, more attentive than before. "That is not something one hears every day."

Grimm did not react to the shift in tone behind her words.

"Descendants had it much easier within the empire," he continued naturally, as though explaining something obvious. "Advancement through the ranks required minimal effort. The system itself favored us—whether by design or necessity makes little difference. It is not something I would consider particularly impressive."

There was no false modesty in his words, just a lack of valuation.

Glinda did not respond immediately.

She continued walking, her steps unbroken, but her gaze shifted forward again, thoughtful again.

And though she said nothing, Grimm noticed it. That slight change, it was brief but very distinct.

Odd.

He did not think what he had said warranted that level of interest.