[Realm: Álfheimr]
[Location: China Country]
Reaching—and getting in—the porcelain city was a quick affair, even with the Cowardly Lion shadowing them like a guilty stain that refused to wash away. The plains were dead and quiet, the porcelain walls rising from them, and as they drew closer the Lion did at the very least prove he wasn't entirely stupid. The moment the first porcelain structures appeared on the ramparts, the Lion slowed, then slowed again, then all but folded himself into the low terrain and stone as if trying to become part of the landscape.
He made himself scarce.
A given, seeing as he was responsible for nearly destroying it.
Grimm did not comment on it, nor did he look back. He didn't even acknowledge the Lion's retreat into shame. He simply kept walking while Puck drifted beside him, hovering just above shoulder-height.
The gates were already opening.
The porcelain people were already watching.
The moment Grimm stepped through, voices rose immediately.
