A Journey Unwanted-Chapter 430 - 419: Bunny

[Realm: Álfheimr]

[Location: Quadling Country]

"Well," Puck exhaled lightly, breaking the stretch of quiet that had settled over them, "it took a while, but we’ve finally stumbled across something you might actually classify as ’interesting.’" There was a hint of relief in her voice, as if she had been enduring the landscape purely out of obligation to Grimm’s wandering curiosity.

"Indeed," Grimm replied.

He stood perched atop a short cliff of weathered stone. Below him stretched a narrow road cutting through the expanse of land. The Cowardly Lion stepped up a few paces to the side, careful but curious. When his eyes settled on the road, recognition immediately lit up across his face.

A small carriage rolled along the path, sleek and black, trimmed in silver along its rims. It was modest in size yet finely crafted, and most notably, nothing pulled it. No horse or beast of burden. It moved forward of its own accord, wheels turning smoothly over the earth.

Seated at the front, reins in paw, was something even more peculiar.

A rabbit.

White fur, pink eyes, dressed in an immaculate black suit adorned with gold thread and a refined frill at the collar. Its posture was upright—almost aristocratic—as it directed the carriage calmly.

An animal but undeniably sentient.

"Suppose oddities are a given in this land," Grimm mused, watching without overt reaction.

"Well," Puck replied, drifting a little closer to the cliff’s edge, "the dominion of Oz has always been known for its uniqueness. Even stuck in Elfame most of my life, I heard stories. Animated scarecrows, living tin men, kingdoms run by witches." She glanced sideways at him. "So? Is this peculiar enough for you? Or does it need to start reciting poetry?"

"That remains to be determined," Grimm answered calmly, gaze following the carriage’s steady movement. After a moment, he shifted his attention to the Cowardly Lion. "You seem unusually knowledgeable about this region," Grimm observed. "What is the significance of that rabbit?"

The lion stiffened slightly under the attention.

"W-we shouldn’t interfere with them," he said quickly. "Glinda is... very fond of them."

"Fond?" Grimm repeated, folding his arms loosely across his chest. "You imply personal attachment."

Puck shot him a sideways look, suspicion flickering across her features. ("He’s not about to provoke the Good Witch with the rabbit, is he?")

She remembered the porcelain village—how he had intervened even after his interest had faded. Grimm’s motivations were rarely straightforward. But it was not as though he was cruel.

"You find it interesting that a powerful witch is fond of something?" Puck asked carefully.

"To a minor degree," Grimm admitted. "The question is why. Are rabbits of some utility to her?"

"N-no," the lion interjected quickly. "She just... thinks they’re adorable."

There was a brief silence.

"Hm," Grimm murmured. If the lion spoke the truth, then the image shifted. A powerful witch, capable of launching refined magical assaults across vast distances, harboring simple affection for small creatures. It introduced something very grounded. Something human. ("Beings of power are often the most grounded in essence...")

"You’re intrigued by that?" Puck asked, tilting her head as she drifted closer, gauntleted hands folding behind her back. "Not the magically self-propelled carriage. Not the rabbit in a tailored suit. But the idea that a witch might think something is cute?"

"Correct," Grimm replied without hesitation. "Each minor revelation adds dimension. Power combined with that ordinary preference is noteworthy."

Puck stared at him.

"You really do find the strangest things interesting," she muttered. "I assumed the sentient rabbit in formalwear would rank higher."

"A sentient creature is hardly extraordinary," Grimm said evenly. "In my realm, experiments were conducted to enhance animal cognition by altering neural structures and biological systems."

Puck blinked. "Huh?"

"The earliest successes were primates," Grimm continued. "They acquired speech. Unfortunately, their discourse consisted primarily of crude observations and the enthusiastic discussion of throwing their own waste."

There was no change in his tone.

Puck stared at him for a heartbeat—

Then snorted despite herself. "You can’t be serious."

"I am," Grimm replied, inclining his head slightly. "Though later efforts focused on accelerating natural evolutionary pathways rather than abrupt alteration. The results were more stable. Intelligence developed in a linear, sustainable manner."

"That’s..." Puck struggled between amusement and discomfort. "What was the point of that? Just because someone could?"

"It began as the indulgence of a particular madman," Grimm said, voice shifting faintly. "However, the empire recognized potential application." His gaze followed the carriage below. "Avian species, for example. Smaller creatures capable of traversing unnoticed. With enhanced cognition, they could serve as spies."

Puck’s expression hardened slightly. "You’re talking about turning animals into tools."

"It was considered efficient," Grimm replied. "I found it unremarkable."

"Sheesh," Puck muttered. "That’s wrong. Animals shouldn’t be dragged into games like that."

"I do not possess a strong opinion on the matter," Grimm said calmly.

The carriage continued down the road, the rabbit maintaining its dignified posture, unaware of the scrutiny from above.

"The more you talk about this empire of yours," Puck murmured, her tone less light than before, "the more I start to think it wasn’t exactly a wonderful place to grow up in."

She didn’t look at him when she said it. She kept her gaze forward, as though watching the moving carriage below. Grimm’s sabatons shifted against the stone as he turned slightly toward the lion instead of answering her directly.

"It certainly was not paradise," he said evenly. There was no defensiveness in his tone, no pride either. Just simple acknowledgment. His gaze lowered to the narrow road where the rabbit-guided carriage continued at a steady pace.

"We will follow that rabbit," Grimm stated, as though the decision had already been settled long before the words were spoken. "Do keep up."

The lion blinked in confusion. "F-follow? Why—"

Grimm did not wait for the question to finish; he stepped forward off the edge of the cliff.

For a brief moment, it appeared he would fall, heavy armor and all—but instead, his descent halted midair. His body steadied, hovering as if the ground had simply chosen not to claim him. Then, without visible strain, he drifted forward into smooth, controlled flight, red hair trailing behind him in the wind.

The lion stared, jaw slightly parted.

Puck only shrugged and pushed herself forward to follow, leaving the lion to scramble after them with a sigh.

"You know," she called as she caught up beside Grimm, "it’s still strange watching you do that. Flying without wings. Every time I look at your back, I half-expect something to sprout there." Her eyes lingered for a moment, as though verifying the absence of anything resembling wings.

"Merely an application of my Draconic Resonance," Grimm replied, his trajectory steady as the carriage gradually came back into clearer view below. "Though explaining the mechanics would likely be futile. I doubt the method would be comprehensible to you." 𝒻𝘳ℯℯ𝑤ℯ𝒷𝘯ℴ𝓋ℯ𝘭.𝑐ℴ𝑚

Puck gave him a long look. "I’m starting to think you insulting my intelligence is becoming a ritual for you."

"It is an observation," Grimm corrected calmly.

"Whatever," she muttered. "Not like I was that curious anyway." A pause passed between them, wind rushing softly around their forms.

"You want to know more of my homeland," Grimm said after a moment, not phrasing it as a question.

"Well," Puck replied, folding her hands behind her back as she drifted alongside him, "you didn’t exactly hesitate when talking about your teacher. So it’s not unreasonable to assume you’d talk about where you came from too."

She studied him as they flew, watching how the wind tugged through the long strands of his red hair escaping from beneath his helm.

"The way you describe it," she continued, "you don’t sound like you hate the place. But you don’t sound like you love it either."

Grimm considered that.

"I suppose," he began slowly, "that I possess something akin to loyalty toward the Vel’ryr Empire."

Puck inched a little closer, listening carefully.

"However," he went on, "it is less devotion and more... indifference toward rebellion. I have no particular reason to defy the empire. Betrayal might have offered temporary stimulation—perhaps even entertaining combat." His tone remained even. "But such novelty dulls quickly."

Puck frowned slightly. "I’m not sure I fully understand what you mean." She tilted her head. "What was this Vel’ryr Empire actually like?"

"It was the most scientifically advanced nation in the world," Grimm replied without hesitation. "It took immense pride in that distinction." He paused slightly. "With pride came hubris. And with hubris came ambition. Expansion was not viewed as aggression, but as inevitability. The Emperor believed," he continued, "that the world would prosper under Vel’ryr rule. That unification beneath superior advancement would elevate society as a whole."

Puck made a small face. "That sounds nice on the surface. But also very controlling."

"It was not so simple," Grimm said. "The empire is not some noble superpower misunderstood by history." His voice grew more direct. "It is thoroughly tainted." The wind filled the space between them for a heartbeat. "While some nations sought treaties and balance," he went on, "Vel’ryr waged war upon smaller territories. Not for defense, merely for acquisition."

"...How many?" Puck asked quietly.

"Around twelve nations fell beneath our banner," Grimm answered. "I was personally responsible for the conquest of five." He said it as one might recite statistics.

Puck’s brows furrowed. "Five?"

"Yes."

"So you just... took them?" she pressed. "Their homes and their land. Just like that?"

"There is rarely a ’just like that’ in war," Grimm replied. "Resistance occurred. It was eliminated." His tone did not shift. "All for the Vel’ryr Empire," he added, the words sounding almost reflexive. "To bring smaller nations beneath its banner required violence. Opposition, however, was easily crushed."

Puck rotated slowly midair, absorbing that.

"Huh," she murmured. "So this empire of yours is pretty messed up."

"That is not an inaccurate summary."

"But it can’t be entirely rotten," she insisted. "Nothing is that one-sided."

"No," Grimm agreed. "Darkness rarely exists without some measure of light." There was a small shift in his voice. "My teacher used to say that. And she was correct."

Puck glanced at him.

"The former Empress," Grimm continued, "was one such light and a stabilizing presence. Compassionate, though not naive." He fell silent for a brief moment. "The other..." He stopped.

Puck’s eyes narrowed. "The other what?"

"It does not matter," Grimm said flatly.

"Oh, come on," she groaned, irritation returning. "You were about to say something interesting."

"It is irrelevant."

Puck exhaled sharply. "Ugh."