[Realm: Álfheimr]

[Location: The Great Forest]

"I'M GONNA KILL YOU, DAMN BROWNIES!"

The shout tore through the air with such shrill, venomous fury that even the ambient murmur around them faltered for a heartbeat.

Grimm turned his attention just as the large wooden doors of the structure were thrown open with reckless force. They banged against the frame, shuddering in protest, and from within spilled laughter—high-pitched and unapologetic. Two figures burst out first, small and quick, their forms obvious even at a glance. Brownies. The same troublesome, childlike creatures he had observed earlier. They scampered past the guards, giggling madly as they went, feet barely touching the ground.

A third figure followed immediately after them—shorter, slower, and filled with incandescent rage.

"Gah! How dare you make me drink piss instead of my hard-earned ale!" the voice screeched, sharp enough to sting the ears. "I deserved that ale, damn it!"

The guards did not visibly react. Their stances remained rigid and disciplined—but the subtle tightening of jaws and the slight downturn of mouths betrayed long-suffering exasperation. This was not new to them.

The fairy girl came to a halt, practically vibrating with anger. She was small—strikingly so—but carried herself with the force of someone accustomed to authority. Her black dress was ornate despite its size: a ruffled high collar around her neck, a neat bow set with a heart-shaped embellishment at her chest, and corset-style lacing pulled tight down the front. Puff-sleeved arms were bound with crisscrossed straps and bows, matched by a frilled headpiece adorned with ribbons that bounced as she moved.

Her face was round, almost deceptively cute, though the scowl twisted it into something far less endearing. Only her left eye, silver and sharp, was visible. The right was hidden behind a black eyepatch, a heart engraved neatly into its surface. Silver hair had been gathered into twin buns at either side of her head, loose strands framing her cheeks, and pointed ears jutted through her hair—marking her clearly as another kind of fairy altogether.

She stared daggers at the retreating Brownies, shoulders hunched as if ready to leap after them at a moment's notice.

Before she could move, the lead guard of the Custodes Firmi stepped calmly into her path.

"Ugh." She groaned loudly, craning her head up to glare at him. "Move it, Ku'tar. I'm on my break. And I need to go beat some Brownies senseless."

Ku'tar did not flinch. "Perhaps, Hēafodmann Cobweb," he said evenly, "if you were not so lazy, the Brownies would not feel so emboldened as to play their tricks on you."

Cobweb stiffened immediately.

"I was not being lazy," she snapped, jabbing a finger vaguely in his direction. "I was taking a well-deserved break after having to do everything in this damnable kingdom. Not only do I command you fools, but as an attendant of the Queen, I have very important matters to oversee."

Ku'tar tilted his head slightly, the gesture small. "Do these important matters involve drinking ale?"

Cobweb bristled, huffing sharply as she folded her arms.

"Did I not just say I was on break?" she shot back. "Hmph. I do not expect some plebe to understand." She turned her head away with forced dignity, then paused. "It matters not."

Her silver eye drifted toward Grimm.

She studied him openly and unabashedly, her irritation giving way to something closer to suspicion. Her brow arched slowly.

"And what," she said at last, voice flattening, "is this supposed to be?"

"He was discovered crossing the boundary into Elfame," Ku'tar replied, gesturing subtly toward Grimm. "He was accompanied by Scout Al'tari. And Puck."

The floating fairy beside Grimm perked up at the mention of her name and offered a small, casual wave. "Hi."

Cobweb's gaze turned to Puck only briefly before returning to Grimm, her expression sharpening.

("Elfame… so that's the name.") Grimm noted inwardly, his attention fixed on Cobweb as she continued to look him over with clear displeasure.

"And why," she asked coolly, "would you allow such a creature to wander freely through our home?"

"Scout Al'tari claimed this man said he was a descendant of a dragon," Ku'tar answered. "Kin to Albion."

Cobweb's visible eye narrowed immediately.

"And you simply chose to believe her?" she demanded. "This man lacks mana entirely—but that alone proves nothing. Absence does not equal that kind of relation."

A brief silence followed.

Then Grimm spoke.

"I'll give you proof enough," he said calmly, his voice cutting through the tension with assurance. "In a moment."

Every gaze turned fully to him.

"Oh?" Cobweb said slowly. She folded her arms, posture stiffening as she looked Grimm up and down with open skepticism. "Will you now? Most tend to say a great many things when they're scrambling to save their own skin."

"I don't particularly need words to save mine," Grimm replied. "After all, none of you are really a threat to me."

Cobweb's single visible eye narrowed at once. A tight grin crept across her lips, a small and dangerous smile. "Oh?" she echoed. "Leave it to humans to be so prideful. Always mistaking bravado for strength."

"There's no pride in it," Grimm answered, tone unchanged. "Pride is an indulgence. The habit of fools."He paused only briefly before continuing, voice steady and matter-of-fact. "It isn't needed when you're the strongest."

There was no smugness in his words. No challenge and no flare of ego—just a statement delivered as though it were as self-evident as the ground beneath their feet.

That, more than anything, seemed to irritate Cobweb.

"You are quite annoying," she said sharply, irritation bleeding into her voice despite herself. "And it takes a considerable amount of effort to annoy someone like me."

Grimm tilted his head a fraction. "That seems untrue," he said. "Considering the earlier scene."

Cobweb's eye twitched.

Puck stared at Grimm as though he had lost his mind entirely.

("Honestly, what is wrong with him?") she thought, hovering back slightly. He was painfully straightforward—almost willfully so. He stood in the heart of fairy territory, speaking without a hint of caution, restraint, or even self-preservation. ("I don't personally know Cobweb… but her reputation as a commander is brutal. Though, honestly, the Custodes Firmi mostly just look tired of her.") Still, Puck frowned. ("Even so… this is not how you speak to her.")

"Gah!" Cobweb burst out suddenly. "It's because they turned my ale into piss! Why wouldn't I be angry?!"

"I see," Grimm said calmly. "So it is easy to rile you up."

Cobweb's teeth clenched audibly. "You little—"

"Little?" Grimm interrupted, genuinely curious as he tilted his head. "Perhaps you should consult a mirror. Or are most placed too high up for you to see?"

The surrounding Custodes Firmi stared.

None spoke. None moved. Whether they were shocked, amused, or quietly offended was impossible to tell—but Grimm distinctly caught the sound of a stifled laugh before it was abruptly silenced.

Cobweb's voice dropped low. "Do you want to die?"

"No," Grimm answered immediately. "But you'll have to forgive me for not finding you threatening." He gestured lightly toward her. "You're quite small."

Cobweb ground her teeth together so hard it looked painful.

"…Fine," she hissed. "We'll see if you're truly related to dragons." She snapped her fingers sharply. "All of you—leave. Except you." Her eye turned toward Puck.

Grimm half-expected resistance.

There was none.

"Yes, Hēafodmann Cobweb," Ku'tar responded without hesitation. "We shall resume patrol of the forest."

With almost mechanical precision, the Custodes Firmi turned in unison and marched away, armor shifting softly as they disappeared between the trees.

Cobweb turned sharply toward the longhouse. "Come," she said curtly. "If I'm going to listen to how you're apparently related to dragons, I'd rather be drinking while I do it."

Puck watched her go, then murmured, "She's… not what I imagined."

"Never met her?" Grimm asked.

"No. Elfame is vast," Puck replied. "But her name is well known. Before becoming a commander, she was one of the Queen's primary attendants." She paused, then shot Grimm a flat, unimpressed look. "She's an important name. Which means it's important not to act like such a mean idiot in front of her. You're far too blunt."

"I'm merely truthful," Grimm said simply.

He began walking.

Puck sighed, hovering just behind Grimm as they followed Cobweb, her form drifting more slowly now, thoughts spiraling.

("What is his deal…?")

Many trespassed into the forest. As such she had met warriors before. Knights, mercenaries and would-be heroes puffed up on songs and reputation. Even the dangerous ones knew they were dangerous—there was always tension in them, a need to be seen, to be acknowledged. Grimm had none of that. He simply existed, as though the world around him was already studied and found wanting.

It unsettled her.

He spoke without cruelty, yet without softness. Not careless—just unburdened by consequence. As if nothing here truly mattered enough to warrant caution. That wasn't arrogance. Arrogance sought validation. Grimm didn't seek anything at all.

("And that's the frightening part.")

And he lacked mana. Meaning there was no familiar warmth or sting. And yet her instincts refused to relax. The air around him felt occupied, like a space something dangerous had already claimed.

("Dragon kin? Maybe he truly is.")

He was blunt to the point of rudeness, yet never lied. Insulting without malice. Observant without innocent curiosity.

Puck frowned, hugging her arms closer to herself as she drifted after him.

("I don't like him.")

She studied his form.

(…But I really want to know him.)

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