A Journey Unwanted-Chapter 456 - 445: The General and fair girl dislike each other

[Realm: Álfheimr]

[Location: Quadling Country]

[Glinda's Castle]

The Dominion of Oz—Quadling Country in particular—was unlike most other regions one might traverse. It was not barren or starved. The land was alive. Not merely in the sense of flora or life, but with something more fundamental in mind. It was not deprived of mana, nor stripped of the currents that flowed from the leylines. Instead, those energies lingered here in abundance, saturating the environment, making it difficult to ignore, even for those without any particular sensitivity to it.

And within the Good Witch's castle, that truth became even more pronounced. Mana clung to everything. It lingered along the walls, settled into the ceilings, and drifted through the air. It did not overwhelm, but it was constant. Even the untrained would notice it, or the indifferent would feel it.

Which was precisely why it stood out. An absence. It was not merely a lack; it was more akin to a disruption. As though something had punctured a hole straight through the fabric of that ever-present mana. A void where there should have been something. A distortion that moved by displacing the air.

Something that mana did not cling to, that mana avoided, and that lacked it entirely.

Snow's eyes snapped forward the instant she felt it, her body reacting before thoughts could fully catch up.

And there it was. Right in front of her. A tall figure, clad entirely in dark armor that swallowed what little light touched it. Even the face was concealed—hidden behind a helm that revealed nothing and offered nothing.

Nothing except that one detail. That vivid red hair.

Her attention locked onto him immediately. The fairy hovering at his side was ignored and dismissed without a second thought.

Because that presence, or rather, that lack of one, was far too familiar. It was something she had felt before, something she recognized.

A being devoid of mana. Like a dragon.

Her body tensed instinctively, her posture lowering just slightly. It was the stance of someone ready to move to strike. To close the distance without hesitation if the situation demanded it.

The air seemed to tense around that movement, but it broke just as quickly as it formed.

A pale hand rose into her field of view, gentle, halting that shift before it could become action.

"Now, now, dear, let's not be so hasty. There shall be no conflict in this castle, not while you stand within it," Glinda's soothing voice reached her, warm and calm, yet carrying authority that did not need to be reinforced.

Snow blinked once, the motion small but grounding her, her gaze turning to the side.

Only then did she fully register it. She had been so focused—so entirely drawn toward that armored figure—that she had momentarily forgotten Glinda was beside her.

Alexandria and Wolf both cast her questioning looks, but Snow ignored them without acknowledgment.

Instead, she straightened. Her gaze returned to the armored man, now accompanied by the fairy as they came to a stop a few paces away, the distance neither too close nor truly safe.

"What exactly is that?" Snow questioned sharply, her voice edged, her eyes refusing to leave him even for a moment.

"What a rude fool," Grimm noted idly, voice flat, his hidden gaze meeting hers without hesitation. "It seems basic manners were never something you were taught, or perhaps you simply chose to disregard them."

"Can you maybe not escalate this immediately?" Puck murmured lowly at his side, her voice quieter, filled with mild annoyance as she glanced between the two.

"You are nothing normal. That much is obvious to anyone with even a shred of awareness," Snow stated, her eyes narrowing further, tension threading through her voice. "So I will ask again—clearly this time. State what you are before my patience begins to wear thin, and I decide I have indulged this long enough."

"You'll have to forgive me," Grimm replied evenly, "if I don't find that particularly threatening or compelling enough to answer."

There was the slightest tilt of his helmeted head.

Snow's expression grew colder.

"You truly have no understanding of who you are speaking to," she said, her tone dropping and sharpening. "Perhaps a lesson is required to correct that ignorance."

"Alright, as entertaining as this is beginning to become—truly, I mean that—I'm afraid I'll have to intervene," Glinda stepped in smoothly, her voice light and entirely unaffected by the tension that had ignited between them. She placed herself between the two without hesitation, as though the act required no effort. "You are both guests of mine, and I simply cannot allow you to be at each other's throats the moment you meet. That would be terribly impolite, don't you think?"

"This thing is a guest of yours?" Snow's brows furrowed, her gaze shifting to Grimm again, scrutiny sharpened, her tone carrying clear disbelief.

"Now, now, that is far too rude, dear," Glinda chided gently, wagging a finger as though correcting a child. "And yes—he is. Oh—right." She paused suddenly, as though catching herself on a forgotten detail.

Then, with a smooth turn, her attention shifted fully to Grimm, her dress rustling softly with the motion.

"Silly me, I completely forgot to ask earlier," she said with a bright smile. "What is your name?"

"Grimm," the General replied curtly, offering nothing more.

Snow's tension did not vanish—but it shifted.

Her apprehension gave way to something more contemplative.

("Grimm… that name… I have heard it before…")

Her eyes remained fixed on him as she searched her memory.

"Hm, Grimm…" Glinda echoed thoughtfully, tapping her chin lightly. "It certainly rolls off the tongue rather nicely. There's something about it, I could swear it's familiar as well."

"One of those names, I suppose," Grimm replied, entirely unconcerned, as though the recognition meant nothing to him.

Puck gave him a questioning glance, hovering slightly closer.

"I'm pretty sure 'Grimm' isn't exactly common, at least not by normal human standards," she said dryly, her tone carrying mild skepticism.

"I'd have to agree with that," Glinda added lightly, before tilting her head again. "And speaking of which—I forgot to ask your name as well."

"Puck," the fairy introduced, pointing at herself with a small, confident gesture.

"Adorable," Glinda grinned warmly.

Puck visibly resisted reacting, her expression shifted just slightly as she folded her arms.

"…I still would have preferred 'beautiful,' but sure," she muttered under her breath.

Whether anyone actually heard the fairy's quiet muttering was unclear—if they did, none of them acknowledged it.

Grimm, for his part, did not linger on it at all.

Instead, he turned his attention toward Glinda.

"What exactly is the issue with this rude woman?" he asked idly, lifting a gauntleted thumb in Snow's direction as though the gesture alone was enough to encapsulate his disinterest. His tone was flat, but the words themselves were not subtle.

Snow frowned lightly at that, the smallest tightening at the corners of her lips betraying her irritation at being addressed so casually and dismissively.

"A Mortifer from the Retorta Guild," Glinda answered without hesitation, her voice still eerily composed, as though the growing tension in the air was little more than a passing inconvenience. "She's here on business, something rather important, I might add."

That prompted a slight tilt of Grimm's head.

At the same time, Puck's expression shifted—recognition alight across her face as she drifted closer to him, lowering her voice just enough to keep it between them.

"Mortifers are not the kind of people you take lightly, Grimm," the fairy warned, her tone carrying an uncharacteristic seriousness. "Like—really not lightly. They're bad news. The kind that are freakishly strong."

Whether Grimm cared—or even registered the seriousness of her warning—was impossible to tell.

("What concerns me more…") His thoughts moved elsewhere entirely. ("They were speaking about a dragon sighting earlier.")

His attention had not wavered, not even for a moment. Even before their arrival, his ears had already caught the details of that conversation.

("That will need to be addressed later, with the witch.")

For now, however, his gaze returned to Snow.

She had not looked away once, not even briefly. Those cold, unyielding eyes remained locked onto him, and now—there was no ambiguity left in them.

Animosity filled them.

"You've a problem, girl?" Grimm asked bluntly, his voice cutting cleanly through the space between them.

"Perhaps I do," Snow replied just as sharply, her words restrained but carrying a clear bite. "If only because of your complete and utter lack of respect. It would do you well to learn it, especially when you are standing before those who are, by every measure, your betters."

"I see no betters here, girl," Grimm answered without pause, his tone almost dismissive in its certainty.

Alexandria's brows furrowed slightly at that.

Not because of Snow.

Because Glinda was standing right there.

And yet, Grimm's words had made no distinction.

Snow's gaze grew colder at the response, something beneath the surface being aggravated further, her composure holding—but only just.

Glinda, standing between them, let out the faintest sigh.

These two did not like each other.

Not even a little.