A Journey Unwanted-Chapter 444 - 433: The Witch appears

[Realm: Álfheimr]

[Location: Quadling Country]

[Glinda’s Castle]

"Moody nincompoop." Puck’s voice rang out clearly, the insult landing, only for the moment to be immediately interrupted by the sound of the door opening behind.

The timing could not have been worse, or better. The door swung inward, and two figures stepped into the room.

Grimm’s armored head turned slowly toward the entrance. In contrast, the Cowardly Lion’s reaction was immediate—his head snapped toward the door so quickly it almost looked painful, his body stiffening further as his eyes locked onto the newcomers.

"Hello there~" Glinda’s voice carried a light tone as she entered, lifting one hand in a gentle wave as though greeting old acquaintances rather than strangers she had just finished observing from afar. She walked forward with Alexandria following closely at her side. "I do hope we’re not interrupting anything too serious," she added lightly as she stepped further in, her gaze briefly turning between them, "though from what I heard at the door, I suspect I may have arrived at a rather expressive moment."

Puck’s attention moved instantly.

Her eyes settled on the witch—and for a brief moment, they widened.

("Whoa...") It wasn’t just her appearance; there was something else. Puck focused, her gaze sharpening slightly as she tried to properly perceive what she was feeling rather than just reacting to it.

And then she saw it.

The aura.

It wasn’t overwhelming. It didn’t press down on the room or suffocate the space like raw power might have. Instead, it spread quietly—refined yet incredibly vast. A soft, radiant gold that filled the room without dominating it, like light naturally occupying space rather than forcing itself into it.

("...That’s... strong.") Puck’s expression shifted, the earlier irritation from her argument with Grimm fading. ("You can’t even see it properly unless you focus, and even then it doesn’t feel heavy. Just refined.") Her eyes lingered. ("Guess that’s a witch for you, especially one with a reputation like hers.")

Glinda, meanwhile, had already begun taking in the room, her golden gaze moved first toward the Cowardly Lion.

"Been a while," she said, her tone softening just slightly as recognition settled into her voice.

The lion visibly shrank under her gaze. His shoulders lowered, his posture curling inward just a fraction as if trying to make himself smaller without actually moving.

"Y-yeah..." he managed, the response barely more than a breath as it left him.

Puck blinked.

Her head turned toward him, confusion alight across her face.

("...Wait.") Her eyes moved between the two of them. ("He actually knows her?")

That hadn’t been expected. Before she could question it further, Glinda’s attention shifted completely.

"And my..." she said, her voice lifting with sudden interest as her gaze landed on Puck. "You’re quite a bit more adorable up close than I anticipated." The comment was delivered so naturally it almost felt like an honest observation rather than a compliment.

Puck blinked again.

"Thanks...?" she replied, her tone uncertain for just a second before settling.

She hesitated, just slightly; if she were being honest, she would have preferred beautiful. But she wasn’t about to correct the Good Witch on something like that. Still, her expression shifted slightly as she crossed her arms.

("Adorable, really...")

"You’re very welcome, dear," Glinda replied warmly, clearly unbothered by the tone of Puck’s response as her attention moved on just as easily.

Her gaze settled on the final member of the group.

The only one who had not stood.

Grimm.

He remained seated, that blank surface of his helmet reflected nothing back, offering no hint of expression as his gaze met hers in silence.

Glinda paused.

Then smiled.

"Ooh," she murmured, the sound carrying genuine intrigue. "You are quite a bit more peculiar than the others, aren’t you?" She tilted her head slightly as she studied him more closely. "Now that I can see you properly..." she continued, her voice thoughtful, "that complete absence of mana is even stranger than I expected."

There was no hesitation in her words, not even an attempt to soften them. Just her open curiosity.

"My lady..." Alexandria sighed quietly from beside her, the exasperation in her voice suggesting this was not unusual behavior.

Glinda waved her off lightly, her attention never leaving Grimm.

"So then," she said plainly, "are you a dragon of some sort? Or something that merely resembles one? Because a complete absence like that doesn’t happen without a reason."

The question landed in the room surprisingly, with no build-up or even careful phrasing. Just direct curiosity and for a brief moment, the room went silent.

Puck blinked at that. 𝒻𝑟𝘦𝘦𝘸ℯ𝒷𝑛𝘰𝓋ℯ𝘭.𝘤𝘰𝘮

("...That’s how she asks?")

Grimm, however, did not hesitate.

"A descendant of one," he answered calmly. The response came just as easily as the question had been asked. No reluctance to be found.

Puck stared at him for a second.

("...He really just said that without thinking twice.") Her expression shifted slightly. ("He doesn’t even try to hide things, does he?")

Across from them, Glinda’s interest deepened almost immediately. Her hand rose, fingers lightly touching her chin as she considered him with clear fascination.

"Ooh," she said softly, her tone brightening. "I have heard of your kind." Her eyes narrowed slightly in focus. "You’re somewhat similar to the spawns of the Gods, are you not?" she continued. "Not quite divine, but touched by something beyond ordinary lineage."

She smiled slightly.

"How interesting."

Without waiting for a response, Glinda moved forward and took a seat at the table, settling into the chair opposite Grimm with ease. Alexandria remained standing just behind and to the side of her, her posture straight and attentive.

On the other side, Puck drifted closer to Grimm, while the Cowardly Lion hesitated for only a moment before moving to stand near him as well—still tense but unwilling to remain alone.

The table now felt complete.

"Quite a few interesting guests I’ve invited today," Glinda mused, her tone light. Her gaze passed over the table once, then over each person again. "I don’t often gather such varied company in one place," she continued, her voice soft and thoughtful. "So when I do, I like to make sure the moment is worth remembering—for myself just as much as for those I’ve invited."

She raised her hand.

There was no flourish to the movement, just a simple snap of her fingers. The sound was sharp.

And in that instant, a brief golden flash rang out across the surface of the table. It wasn’t blinding, nor did it linger. It appeared and vanished in the same breath, like something perfectly controlled down to the smallest fraction of a second.

But when it faded, the table was no longer empty.

Where there had been nothing, there was now a full arrangement laid out. Five red antique cups, each one lined with gold detailing, rested neatly atop matching small antique plates. A large teapot sat at the center, its surface polished, its design consistent with the cups, refined and beautiful.

And beside it, a plate of biscuits. But it was not carelessly arranged; there were many of them—far more than necessary—shaped into stars, triangles, and softer rounded forms, each one decorated with patterns.

The scent reached them a moment later.

It was warm and sweet, carefully made.

"Please, help yourselves," Glinda said, smiling as if the act itself were nothing worth commenting on. Her hands moved to her hat, adjusting it slightly before lifting it from her head and placing it gently on the table beside her.

Her attention settled on Grimm once more.

"Won’t you remove your helm?" she asked, her tone still polite. "It would be good manners, especially in a setting like this. I find that conversations tend to feel more honest when faces are not hidden."

The room stilled, just slightly.

Grimm did not move immediately.

"It would be better," he said, his voice neutral, "if I remained faceless for a little while longer." He did not elaborate.

Alexandria’s expression shifted, if only slightly. There was a flash of confusion there, small but present.

("Remained... faceless?") Her eyes lingered on Grimm’s helm, as though trying to parse whether his words were literal or something more abstract.

Glinda, however, merely hummed softly.

"I see..." she said, her tone thoughtful. "So, at this moment in time, you lack a face, hm?" There was something vague in the way she said it. It was not quite a question or a statement. "And I wonder," she continued, tilting her head slightly as her gaze remained fixed on him, "whether you mean that in the physical sense or in a way that runs a bit deeper than that."

Her fingers lightly brushed the brim of her hat where it rested on the table, absent-minded.

"Well," she added after a moment, her voice easing again, "I do hope I’ll have the chance to see it one day—whatever form it takes when you decide it matters enough to show."

She leaned back slightly in her chair, posture relaxing—but her attention did not waver.

"But for now," Glinda continued, her eyes narrowing just a fraction in curiosity, "there’s something else I find myself far more interested in." A small pause lingered as her gaze shifted between them once more, mainly focusing on Grimm.

"Do we know each other?" she asked.