A Journey Unwanted-Chapter 446 - 435: Thoughts of the witch

[Realm: Álfheimr]

[Location: Quadling Country]

[Glinda’s Castle]

"My lady, is this truly wise?" Alexandria asked, her voice careful but unable to fully conceal the concern beneath it. Her gaze lingered on Glinda, who remained seated with a composed posture, as though nothing of consequence had just occurred. The room had grown quiet—emptied of all others, leaving only the two of them.

Glinda did not answer immediately.

She lifted her cup once more, taking a slow, unhurried sip of tea, as if the question required patience. Only after setting the cup back down with care did she speak.

"You worry too much, dear," she said smoothly, her voice soft and reassuring on the surface, though her tone also held something that did not invite contradiction. A small smile touched her lips. "Everything will go as it must. It rarely does otherwise, no matter how much we struggle to shape it differently."

Alexandria exhaled quietly, the sound restrained. It was not the first time Glinda had answered her this way—vague and frustratingly beyond direct interpretation.

("She always does this, speaks as though she’s already seen the outcome and determining it isn’t worth explaining.")

But Alexandria was no fool.

Others—outsiders, admirers, even allies—might have looked at Glinda’s actions and seen simple kindness. Mercy, generosity, or a willingness to forgive, but Alexandria knew better. This was not mercy born from softness; it was all calculated. Every decision Glinda made was placed with intent, even when it appeared otherwise.

("You don’t invite people like that into your home without reason, not someone like him.")

Her gaze sharpened slightly. No matter how long she had served her, no matter how closely she observed—there was always something just out of reach when it came to understanding Glinda’s true reasoning.

("I can never quite read you completely.")

She stepped slightly closer, her tone lowering firmly in its need for clarity.

"But that man..." she continued, choosing her words carefully, though the concern in them was clear. "He all but confirmed that he is related to dragons. He did not hesitate or obscure it, he did not attempt to lessen what that implies." Her brows knit slightly. "That alone makes him dangerous—far more than the average traveler and far more than anyone who would simply wander into Quadling Country by chance. Keeping him here..." she paused, weighing the thought before finishing, "...I understand the advantage of proximity. To observe him, to limit uncertainty or perhaps to ensure he does not act unchecked."

A breath.

"But something tells me that is not the true reason you invited him to stay," Alexandria concluded, her eyes searching Glinda’s face, seeking confirmation of what she already suspected.

Glinda’s smile returned—slightly wider this time.

"Sharp as ever," she said, her tone carrying a note of approval. She shifted just enough to rest her cheek lightly against her palm, elbow braced on the armrest, her gaze drifting forward, distant as if she was looking beyond the present moment.

"I suppose," she went on, almost idly, "I was curious."

The word lingered.

Then she added, more precisely—

"Curious about something fractured."

Alexandria’s head tilted slightly, confusion surfacing more openly now.

"Fractured...?" she echoed, trying to grasp the meaning behind the phrasing.

Glinda exhaled softly through her nose, the smallest hint of amusement touching her expression.

"He is very interesting," she clarified, though her tone suggested the word interesting carried far more importance than it appeared to. "Not simply because of what he is, or what he claims to be—but because of what does not align."

Her fingers tapped lightly against her cheek.

"There is a narrative there," she continued, her tone more thoughtful, "one that does not quite fit together cleanly. Pieces that belong and others that feel as though they were forced into place. A presence that exists here, yet does not fully belong to this world’s flow."

Her golden eyes shifted slightly.

"And as a member of the Quaesitorum," Glinda added, her tone smoothing out, "it is not only my privilege—but my responsibility—to take interest in such things. To study them. To understand them before they become something less manageable."

She leaned back slightly, her posture relaxing once more.

"And him," she finished, "he feels like something worth understanding. Not merely observing from afar, but guiding, if such a thing is even possible."

Alexandria frowned slightly, her gaze lingering on Glinda’s face—on that distant look that never quite settled into something she could fully interpret.

("Guiding...?") That was new, or perhaps it wasn’t.

Her concern did not lessen; if anything, it deepened.

("You’re not just planning on watching him, you’re involving yourself.") That unsettled her the most. She did not allow that unease to settle in her chest and remain unspoken for long. Yet, before she could gather the right words, Glinda’s voice slipped gently into the space once more.

"But I suppose we should not keep our other guest waiting, hm?" the witch mused, her tone airy, yet there was decisiveness beneath it—as though she had already noted the core matter and moved past it entirely.

"Ah—yes," Alexandria straightened slightly, the shift in topic pulling her back into duty with ease. "The Retorta Guild has been waiting for some time now, longer than is proper for guests of their standing... I do hope they do not take offense to the delay, my lady. It would be unfortunate to sour relations before discussions have even begun."

Glinda’s lips curved in mild amusement. "I’m quite certain that if we offer a sufficiently cute apology—one delivered with just the right amount of charm—they’ll be more than willing to let bygones be bygones." Her eyes playfully turned towards Alexandria, as if she were already imagining the scene.

"I believe a normal apology, spoken plainly and respectfully, would more than suffice, my lady," Alexandria replied dryly, though there was no disrespect in it—only familiarity with her antics.

"Pssh," Glinda waved a pale hand dismissively, the motion graceful but at the same time careless in a way only she could manage. "Where is the enjoyment in that? You possess such a cute face, Alexandria—it would be a terrible waste not to put it to proper use in moments like these."

"Your words honor me, my lady," Alexandria answered, and this time—despite the warmth that threatened to rise to her cheeks—she held her composure, just barely. It was a small victory, one she carried quietly. Glinda, for her part, seemed almost slightly disappointed by the lack of fluster, though she did not press further.

Instead, the Good Witch reached forward, fingers brushing the surface of the table before lifting her wide-brimmed hat with a smooth motion. She settled it atop her head, the gesture graceful.

"But I do wonder," Glinda murmured, her tone shifting as she rose gracefully from her seat, "what exactly the Retorta Guild seeks from this visit. They rarely act without purpose, and rarely without motive."

"Perhaps they wish to establish an alliance," Alexandria offered, falling into step beside her as naturally as a breath. "Or to negotiate trade routes, much like the Heart Kingdom has in recent years. Given their reach, it would not be surprising if they sought influence here as well."

"Viable," Glinda hummed softly, the sound thoughtful, her gaze drifting ahead though it seemed to look beyond the walls. "Entirely viable, and yet," she added after a pause, her smile returning, "something tells me their visit will prove to be a touch more exciting than simple diplomacy."

Alexandria did not respond immediately, though her expression shifted just slightly at the implication.

"But I am curious," Glinda continued, her voice light again, "which Mortifer shall we be hosting? I would very much like to know which story is about to walk through our doors."

"The Mortifer of the seat of Zeboiim," Alexandria replied without hesitation. "Ranked eighth." There was weight to that title, one that lingered even after the words had been spoken. Such were the Mortifers after all.

"Oh?" Glinda’s brows lifted ever so slightly, intrigue sharpening her expression. "We are hosting quite the name, then, how fortunate for us." The words were pleasant, but there was something beneath them, interest, certainly, but not without dissecting what was stated.

"You know of her—from the Book of Records, I presume?" Alexandria asked, glancing toward her.

"Indeed," Glinda answered, her tone softening. "She is... quite a tragic figure, that one. A story shaped by loss, by pressure and by expectations that were never truly her own." Her gaze dimmed for the briefest moment before returning to its usual clarity. "Those are often the most interesting stories."

A silence followed.

"Though," Glinda added, almost as an afterthought, "perhaps it was not the wisest decision to invite an individual with ties to dragons into my castle at the same time she is present."

"Oh..." Alexandria’s steps faltered just slightly as the realization took hold, her eyes narrowing slightly as she pieced it together. "I see then this is not merely a coincidence."

"No," Glinda said simply, her smile returning. "With those Keepers, it rarely ever is."