A Journey Unwanted-Chapter 452 - 441: Meeting with the guild

[Realm: Álfheimr]

[Location: Quadling Country]

[Glinda’s Castle]

"How interesting, another visitor, hm," Glinda murmured, her voice light and amused, though the faint gleam in her golden eyes betrayed a deeper interest than her tone let on.

She sat comfortably within a vast chamber, her posture relaxed against a large, plush red couch that seemed almost indulgent in its softness. The room itself was expansive, though sparsely furnished. A chandelier hung above, its glow spilling downward in warm light. Along one wall stood a cupboard lined neatly with antique cups and plates, each piece carefully arranged and polished to shine. A book rack rested nearby, filled but orderly. Beneath everything stretched a red carpet threaded with gold, leading toward a smooth, round wooden table placed before her, with a matching plush chair positioned across from it.

It was not the same room where she had met Grimm and the others—but it carried the same elegant arrangement.

Glinda lifted an antique cup, steam curling from its surface, and took a slow sip without the slightest concern for its heat. She set it down on its small plate with a gentle movement, the soft clink barely audible. Her gaze remained forward, unfocused in the physical sense—yet attentive to something others would not have been able to see.

She hummed quietly.

("There’s a tether, it is faint, but there. That one is connected to the moon,") she thought, her expression unchanged as her mind moved ahead of the moment. ("So the seals have begun to weaken more noticeably than before, it follows that they would send another to tend to it. A lamb, sent to stand before something far greater than herself, poor girl.")

Her fingers idly traced the rim of her cup.

("And yet she chose to approach that man,") Glinda continued inwardly, the smallest hint of curiosity crossing her gaze. "Oh—"

She blinked once, almost as if pulled back into the present by the realization.

"I forgot to ask his name," she said softly to herself, a small note of genuine oversight slipping into her voice.

Before she could dwell on it further, the white door to the chamber opened smoothly.

Alexandria entered first.

Her emerald eyes found Glinda immediately, as they always did, but she did not linger. Instead, she stepped aside from the doorway with a practiced movement, her posture straightening as she gestured for those behind her to enter.

The first to step through was a woman.

Her presence altered the room the moment she crossed the threshold.

She wore a tailored uniform of deep imperial blue, the fabric cut sharply along her form, fitted at the waist and perfectly structured. Gold trim traced the edges with refinement and her collar stood mid-high, embroidered with small gold stars against a navy band. Her long black hair fell smoothly down her back, while her bangs framed her face in a way that only emphasized its delicate structure.

Her skin was pale—strikingly so. Not the softness of someone untouched by the sun, but rather something untouched by warmth itself. Her eyes, a vivid and luminous blue, moved across the room with scrutiny before settling on Glinda.

There was no hostility in her gaze.

But there was no warmth either.

She stood out—not by effort at all, however, it was a contrast. In a room bathed in warmth, she felt like an absence within it.

"Snow White, Mortifer of the eighth rank and holder of the seat of Zeboiim," Alexandria announced clearly, her tone formal. "And her Legatus... Wolf."

The second figure entered behind her.

He was tall—imposing in both height and build. Broad-shouldered, with a presence that filled the space. His hair was wild, black, and unkempt, falling around his face in a way that told them it wasn’t styled that way. His eyes, a faded blue, moved sharply as they scanned the room, alert and restless.

His clothing stood in contrast to Snow’s. A long black coat, worn and torn in places, sleeves rolled up carelessly. Beneath it, a plain white shirt, slightly loose. Baggy black pants and heavy boots completed the look. It seemed functional enough but very unrefined.

He could have been called handsome, in a rough, unpolished sense, even with his rough beard.

But there was something feral beneath it. Maybe it was in the way his gaze lingered too long.

"Welcome, welcome~" Glinda greeted warmly, as though none of it—none of the tension mattered in the slightest. She gestured lightly toward the seats across from her, her smile easy and inviting. "Please, do take a seat. There’s no need to stand on ceremony any longer than necessary. We have much to discuss, and I would hate to keep things from getting underway. And of course, help yourselves to the pastries. They’re quite good, I promise."

Snow’s gaze lingered for a moment longer, sweeping the room one final time as though committing it to memory.

Then she gave a small nod.

"You are too kind," she replied, her voice soft but empty, making the words feel distant, as though they were spoken out of habit rather than feeling.

She moved forward with swift steps, each one seemed carefully placed until she reached the chair. Without hesitation, she sat.

Behind her, Wolf shifted slightly, as though intending to do the same.

Snow’s eyes moved—just slightly.

"You’ll stand," she said.

The words were not raised, they did not need to be.

Wolf’s jaw tightened, a quiet grumble slipping under his breath as he straightened again. But he did not argue. He stepped back into place behind her, folding his arms across his chest, posture tense with irritation.

Glinda’s brow lifted ever so slightly at the exchange, interest flickering—but she did not comment.

Instead, she lifted her hand in one smooth motion, removing her wide-brimmed hat and setting it gently at her side just as Alexandria moved to stand behind her, mirroring Wolf’s position.

"As you are no doubt aware, I am Glinda—the Good Witch," she said lightly, her tone almost playful despite the formality of the introduction. "Though I suppose I say that more for the sake of manners than necessity. It would be rather rude not to introduce oneself properly, wouldn’t it?"

Wolf let out a faint scoff at that, barely restrained.

Snow’s gaze shifted to him instantly.

That was all it took.

He looked away, jaw tightening further, but said nothing more.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Good Witch," the Mortifer said, her voice maintaining that same soft tone. "To be granted audience with someone of your renown is an honor. One I do not take lightly."

The words were correct and the delivery was flawless.

But the emotion behind them remained absent.

"Aww, you’re too sweet," Glinda replied with a bright grin, seemingly pleased regardless.

Behind her, Alexandria remained still, her expression composed—but inwardly, she could not help the faint sigh that passed through her thoughts.

("My lady... you truly are far too easy to please.")

"But say," Glinda began again, though this time her voice carried a softer curiosity beneath its sweetness, her golden eyes settling fully on Snow’s cold blue ones without the slightest flicker of hesitation, "I find myself wondering—truly wondering—what reason your lady, The Ereš, would have for sending someone of your standing, a Mortifer no less, to meet little old me. It feels like a rather grand gesture for what could have been a far simpler message."

Snow did not immediately answer. There was a pause before she spoke, her gaze unwavering though something almost imperceptible shifted behind it. "I would hope," she said slowly, carefully choosing each word as if weighing its reception, "that you do not interpret this as an insult—that our lady herself did not come in person to meet you. That was never the intention behind this decision."

"Oh, perish the thought," Glinda replied almost instantly, her smile widening just enough to soften the moment, her tone warm. "If anything, I find I much prefer having such a pretty face sitting across from me instead. It makes conversations far more pleasant, don’t you think? So truly, it is quite fine."

That—unexpectedly—made Snow blink. Just once. A small fracture in her otherwise perfect composure.

"...I see," Snow murmured after that brief lapse, clearing her throat ever so slightly as she reassembled her neutrality. "Your words are exceedingly kind. More than I had anticipated."

"Think nothing of it," Glinda waved off lightly, though her gaze lingered just a moment longer than necessary before she leaned back into her seat. "But if I were to hazard a guess—and I do so quite often—I would say this is less about me as an individual, and more about the Quaesitorum as a whole, wouldn’t you agree?"

"You are remarkably perceptive," Snow admitted without resistance, her tone remaining even, though there was no attempt to veil the truth behind her words.

"Oh, and here I thought I was special," Glinda sighed in a playful, almost theatrical manner, though there was no real disappointment in her voice. "But oh well, I suppose I can share the spotlight when necessary." She tilted her head slightly, her expression shifting into something thoughtful. "Though, considering the Retorta Guild’s reputation, I imagine you are already well aware that most of the other witches are currently occupied, dealing with the leyline disturbances. I have a few of those matters here myself, in fact." Her fingers lightly tapped the armrest. "And even beyond that, each of them has their own pursuits. The Quaesitorum, as you know, is not an organization that idles—we prioritize discovery, experience and the pursuit of the unknown above all else."

"We are well aware of the Quaesitorum’s current position," Snow responded, her voice neutral, though it carried a faint firmness now, as if grounding the conversation back to its purpose. "However, even with that understanding, the matter I bring before you was deemed of the utmost importance by The Ereš herself. It is not something that could be delayed or redirected."

"Hm... curious," Glinda hummed softly, her gaze sharpening just a fraction. "I would have thought you might have approached Oscar instead. If I recall correctly, your organization has had dealings with him before."

"Our lady considered that option," Snow replied without hesitation. "However, she ultimately determined that you would be the more suitable candidate, given your standing as a more powerful witch."

Glinda tilted her head slightly at that, her smile returning, though this time it held a trace of something more knowing. "Well, I suppose I do possess a fair measure of strength. I won’t deny that much."

"She also deemed you more efficient," Snow added, her tone unchanged.

"Efficient," Glinda repeated softly, as if tasting the word, before letting out a small, amused breath. "What a flattering way to describe someone."

There was a brief silence.

Then Glinda leaned forward just slightly, her posture still relaxed but her attention now fully engaged, her golden eyes locking onto Snow’s once more.

"Well then," she said, her voice lowering just enough to signal a shift from pleasantry to the main purpose of their talk, "I suppose I’ll indulge that decision. Go on, Mortifer, tell me—what is it you need from me?"